I opened my mouth, ready to call the husk back, but the words died in my throat.

I looked down at the shaft of wood that pinned me to the plains, but I could not summon the energy to thrash against its weight like some (starving) hound.

I puzzled at the now familiar word. Because I had been starved. Brought here to do this or that. Not even sure of (friend) or (foe) or if such distinctions were even important.

And so I continued to stare up at the faint wisp of cloud, content to wait for the husk to return. Or not. From how the dead woman had wrestled with the warrior, it was clear she had received no great boon in her resurrection. Likely the Konac warriors would restrain her with their many spears, just like her master.

I looked over at my companion-in-failure. His chest rose and fell madly beneath the heavy cover of steel armor. The burns that raked across the back of his neck smelled foul, and I was certain they felt no better.

I opened my mouth as vacant thoughts of interrogation occurred. Here was a hapless human wont to share whatsoever he knew in exchange for salve and succor. While I did not have either to offer, would he know that?

And yet once more the words died on the tip of my tongue. It was not tired, but a heaviness that reached down to the very cockles of my (soul).

I smiled and continued to watch the clouds. I had been created and summoned under this same morning glow. I deserved a little rest, didn't I?

The Konac warrior did not share in my rest. The clouds had fled the sky's blue when the man began to wail. His mouth was full of curses and prayers as he undid his armor and dragged his sullen body down the hill's slow slope.

By the time another set of lofty white clouds appeared, the warrior was beyond sight. I could still hear him whimper, but the noise was quiet and distant. I could neither hear nor see the husk, and I soon decided I did not care. The young woman from the tent had interested me, not her shell.

The maij's summoned flame had not hurt, but it was not until the sun began to set that I realized how delightful the cool breeze of (night) could be. The deep winds of the plain swept over me and coated the day's aches like a salve.

The husk never returned and the warrior's wail fell silent. I was alone amidst the quiet rustle of grass as the wind ran its velvet hands across the horizon.

The spear jammed in my ribs tickled, but there seemed no real urgency to work my body free. I had no purpose after all, and I had killed the one human who might have known what that purpose was.

I simply closed my eyes and waited, waited, waited.

Human voices, but not of the Konac tongue. I roused at the distant noise, but the world had succumbed to night's embrace. Distant fires revealed the towns of man, but there was nothing to see, no star or moon to illuminate the plains below.

As I listened to the voices, some dull part of my mind thought of the husk. She had returned, and with speech! But I continued to listen and soon understood.

This voice insisted that this was correct hill. Look at the fires of Tharem.

That voice was full of bluster. They did not want to think about Tharem.

Another voice, older than the first two, calmed their (sisters) as they labored up the hill.

I could feel a power in their words, not unlike that of Cibor or the young woman from the tent. With every breath they drew the air seemed to excite in anticipation only to relax when the sisters exhaled.

The three sisters fell silent when they came across the first body. They wondered if it was (grandmother's) handiwork or that of her (̵̞͐d̴̺̞̓r̴͕͍͐ë̶̫̘́̑ṅ̸̂͜)̵̲͑̚.

I puzzled over the word, but it did not elicit even the faintest memory.

The sisters did not speak as they continued further up the hill. By the time the glow of torchlight tickled the corner of my vision, I found that I was holding my breath.

The oldest sister remarked on the scorched earth. A foreign maij, and powerful.

Another sister, her words fiery, insisted none were more favored than grandmother.

The third sister noticed me.

I was not prepared for the horrified wail that left the sisters. I awash in torchlight as the three sisters raced forward. They fell beside me, and the smallest amongst them wept grandmother. Her wet tears tickled as they rolled down my chest.

My eyes adjusted to the harsh torchlight, and I saw the oldest amongst them transfixed with fear as our eyes met.

"Aua," the eldest said, her voice dry. "Get back."

"She's... she's alive?"

"I said get back," the eldest said as she yanked the two sisters away by the long braids of their chestnut hair.

I watched them all with burning curiosity. They had the same copper skin as the young woman from the tent, but the similarities ended there. The three sisters were wide of cheek and body. Without the same muscle as the Konac warriors, but clearly built for a similar violence. And yet they carried no weapons that I could see.

"D̷͓̃h̸͚̆ù̴͖r̶̳͐ ̶̠͊l̵͖̿e̷̲̍ ̵̡̌m̸̝̃e̷̖͠t̸̤͆?̷̧͂ ̷͉̽B̶͎̋h̶̩͛a̵̦̿r̴̟͛ ̴͎̔ĺ̸͎i̴͘͜f̴̡̔ ̷̘̓d̴̤̋a̶͉͠r̸̮̈́ !" the eldest said, and I recoiled. There was something particularly foul about her words, something that dredged up a noisome black fear.

"Nani!" the fiery sister said, tugging at the straps of the eldest's robes. "What is going on? Is g-grandmother...?"

The eldest sister Nani waved her torch in the air like a drawn sword as tears streamed down her face.

"Ḋ̶̰h̴̡̆ṷ̷͗r̵̥̎ ̴̤̑l̴̞̀e̸̲͝ ̵͈͘m̶̘̊e̴̘̕t̴͂ͅ!̴̖͝ ̶̼͋B̷͉̈́h̵̻̐ȁ̷̘r̸̗͝ ̵́͜ĺ̵̤i̶̗̓f̴̞̑ ̵̝̌d̷͎̿a̵̢̎r̵̮̒ !" she said, the same words, and they summoned the same hot nausea in the pit of my stomach.

"Quiet!" I said, and the eldest's lips clamped shut and refused to part. I watched her struggle to open her mouth, to speak, but her lips might as well have been sewn shut.

"B̷͉̈́h̵̻̐ȁ̷̘r̸̗͝ ̵́͜ĺ̵̤i̶̗̓f̴̞̑ ̵̝̌d̷͎̿a̵̢̎r̵̮̒ !" the fiery sister said, her narrow eyes aflame with hate.

"I said quiet," and the fiery sister's face twitched, a mild look of surprise flittered across her sharp eyes and pinched mouth, and then she fell over dead.

"Sofh!" the smallest sister said as she knelt beside her dead sister. "Nani! Something is w-wrong with Sofh!"

I massaged my temple as the cool quiet of the night was replaced with the rancorous heat of torch and loud wet tears.

I had no idea who these sisters were. I had no idea who this grandmother was. But from their frightful words I knew them to be dangerous. I worried more over hearing their chant than spending half a day impaled on a spear, left to bleed and dry beneath the hot sun.

One of the human sisters was dead. But what to do with the other two?