The Lost Tribe: Maliha the Wanderer (Book 1)

Fighting The Past

Maliha was up just as the sun begun to kiss the sky. The early morning chill caressed her skin with gentle fingers. The cool breeze pulling the last remnants of sleep from her groggy mind.

Leaning over Enzo, she stared at his features. The dark, curly hair that lay haphazardly across his chubby cheeks. His delicate lips and dark lashes that were shuttered in sleep. A smile grazed her lips when his nose puckered up at the gentle caress of her fingers as she pushed the hair from his face.

Her ears perked up at the sound of heavy footfalls, the boots thundering against the softened earth.

Maliha hurriedly threw on some fresh clothes and put her night clothes in a woven basket by the door. Her tent had come a long way from the plain canvas it had once been. Every corner was full of purpose and life, it was their safe haven.

Quickly slipping on her worn out sandals, Maliha made a mental note to start making new ones once she had finished everything else she was working on. Before she could work on new shoes she needed to finish the final pieces of their home and gather some Lahi flowers that lived at the foot of the Ary tree, deep in the forest.

Maliha made her way through the slumberous tribe lands and headed towards the training grounds.

To Maliha's surprise, no one was there but she knew without a doubt that Kamir would arrive soon. Huffing a sigh, she made her way over to a lone tree beside the sandpit where the warriors trained. She sunk to tho the floor and rearranged her clothes so she could be comfortable.

Her eyes began to drift shut, the sounds of the retreating night life and the waking birds humming her to sleep. She tried to fight her need but as the time drew on and no one appeared at the training grounds, Maliha's determination wavered. Slowly her eyes drooped closed, darkness washing over her mind as she fell into a deep slumber.

A mighty howl had her jerking awake. Her head smacking into the tree at her back. Her pulse raced in fear that she was being attacked. Her hand automatically reached for the knife at her hip and for the chain that hung on her neck to find it gone.

Sweat beaded at her skin in apprehension and then realisation struck. She wasn't in the desert alone any longer and her chain no longer lay along her neck. No, it was beneath her pillow where it had been since she had first come to this tribe.

She rubbed at her groggy eyes trying to figure out what had woken her from her sleep. The guttural howl tore through the air again, causing the hairs on Maliha's skin to rise.

Her Disorientation melted away as she took in her surroundings. The sun had peaked through the sky and the tribe would be waking fully now.

Roars and pulverised skin filled the air as bodies clashed in an angry and viscous dance. Dusting off the sand that clung to her skin, Maliha made her way into the sand pit where Kamir was fighting with a ferocity that had Maliha's heart thudding in fear.

Not fear of Kamir, but fear of what his emotions were doing to him. He was beyond angry, a thick cloud of darkness exuded from his body as he fought brutally. His once controlled and precise moves, were sloppy and full of unbridled anger. All of his training was used for one thing and that was to annihilate his opponent.

From the way Abazz face was contorted, Maliha could see that he was frustrated by Kamir's performance. The man was receiving blows that he would usually dodge but each blow only served to add to Kamir's rage. He was dragging out the fight, absorbing each blow into his being and then throwing them back at the young man with a barbarity that had sparks of fire flying from his fists.

Hazel eyes full of worry met Maliha's equally worried gaze over the heads of the two fighting warriors. Shock registered throughout her being as the sparks of fire began to spread up Kamir's arm until he was submerged in an impenetrable haze of spitting orange and red.