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IN the her cell, Katara struggled for a long time to sleep but the sweltering morning sun that shone through the cracks didn't wake her up from the nightmares that consumed her thoughts of survival.
She could hear the crowds crying out and a voice rumbling above the crowds. No- none of those irritating sounds botched her. She woke to a Gods-damn back ache and a rising stench of sweating bodies clumped together. And she didn't believe it was the odour of sweat; no... it was the reek of dead corpses. Death's signature scented perfume.
She sat up to see a slave dragging a rickety wagon with a stack of lifeless dead limbs. "Whatever had ripped those men to shreds is waiting for us." The hoarse voice came from the almond skinned girl. Katara gulped down that swelling lump that began forming. The very thought of being torn to ribbons by some man-eater was something that made her skin crawl with something unknown or foreign.
But Katara snorted, "and how would you know?" It was a mere challenge to make things a little lighter and stop her mind pondering on about death. "I'd been here two days before you came." She said with jerk. "I've heard the cries of weak men cleaved by claws from their bones. You can hear the bellicose of beasts roaring their claimed victory." Katara's face revealed that she swallowed what she was hearing.
"Listen..." The almond skinned girl motioned towards the ceiling, where the arena thundered above. Listening to the crowds erupt with victory as a tumult of a roar rumbled through the cheers. It was like a stream of blood flowing through the vast ocean.
As Katara brought down to eye level with her cell mate, the girl grinned with something far from feline. It was raw, like a vast heated desert. Waiting to devour all. She sat there facing the girl and asked, "what do you plan to do in the arena?" Katara braced herself against the shadows, as the girl was deep in her mind planing. "I pray the gods with grant me a horse in the arena."
A horse? If it was Katara herself, she would of wanted a sword, even though she hadn't had the proper training. Light enough to slice the air, and sharp enough to kill. It that was a interesting answer. She never would of thought of something like that. But then a thought somehow borrowed deep into her mind. Was the girl from the Red Arid? Was she a horse-warrior of Tarhana?
"Your a warrior of Tarhana?" She debriefed. Katara could feel her mouth go blunt dry as the girl nodded with another grin and revealed the dark tattoo horse sigil on her shoulder. From the tales told and the songs sung, Tarhana women were fierce and their bond with horses is such that Tarhana are said are born to fight, and die with their horses. It is said only they speak ancient Relaehrian within there clan.
But Katara was sparked by the thought the Tarhana girl could speak the common tongue as well. "Who taught you to speak the common tongue?" She said. The Tarhana girl picked at her short nails and said gruffly with no interest. "I taught myself." That was the it? So plain and simple? I taught myself. It didn'treally bother Katara and so she chose not too question it.
