[Reminder: This story contains explicit sensual content, violence, mature themes, and references to trauma/abuse. Reader discretion is advised.]
After freshening up again and being lathered in oils and perfumed in fragrances, she was finally dressed and ready to set off from the galago military village.
Some galagoes even jumped onto Bazil and her from the shade of trees, playing with them.
They were greeted by the village, all of the people eager to give them parting gifts, most of which they could take without burdening their load.
The guardians did formal greetings and wished them well, and Salīa formally did the same, thanking the zazi for being bastions of the sxvages.
It dawned on her that Bazil, with his rank, also had many zazi under him, wanting to follow his lead. Yet he chose to let others lead them, all so that he could stand by her side.
And with her newfound clarity, she decided she'd put her pride aside and never take that for granted again.
The wetness of his newly done braids had been shaken out by Sibu, who was hugging him dramatically, not letting Bazil push away for even a moment.
At some point, Bazil realized that the more upset he got, the more determined Sibu became, theatrically groaning, "I'll miss you, little brother!"
"Yeah, I'll miss you too."
"Huh?" Sibu shoved Bazil back, astonished. "Did I take too much of mama's hoodjah oil, or did you just say. Oh, I could just cry."
He pulled Bazil back into a squeezing hug before Bazil could slip away and whined on about how much he loved his little brother. But eventually, he did talk sincerely when looking at the map.
"From here, there will be a straight road to Palosa, but a long one. It's a pity you can't bring horses with you, that'll quickly unravel your disguise, since only military and royalty have them there.
We don't have camels either, but even that might have you drawn for inspection to present merchant documents at the gates. Unless you want to transcend and get there in a flash."
"Yeah, because traveling as shifted animals into the land that banned transcendence certainly won't attract attention either," Bazil quipped sarcastically. "It'll be fine, brother. We'll find our way."
Sibu nodded and poked his headband, then said, "You better."
After pulling Salīa into a long, but less crippling hug, he wished her many blessings and said, "You'll reunite with your family soon."
The last thing they tended to was paying respects to Mkango.
Standing behind a tree quietly was Nagapie, her large eyes lingering over his grave. Her face had been puffy with traces wiped away.
"Little bushbaby," Salīa said.
Nagapie instantly stomped out of her hiding, ready to give her a scolding.
"Who are you calling lit—"
"She'll come back," Salīa hugged her, then held the link on Nagapie's neck, releasing a sensation that was certainly breathing yet unsteady. "Never lose faith."
"But what if they never find—"
"I promise that I'll bring her back."
"One thing about her," Bazil said. "Is that she never breaks a promise."
Nagapie looked at them seriously, as if wanting to warn them not to lie to her. Yet she found their eyes glimmering resolutely, unblinking as they leveled with hers.
Her eyes now twinkled, a small smile formed, and she nodded. Tentatively, but firmly, she raised her arms and made an x.
They smiled and made the same.
The sxvages sang out to them as they left the land and set off all the way through the elms until they touched a shadowed road.
A surprise met them when they broke through the shadows and glanced up at the sky. For the first time throughout their trip, they felt a drizzle patter down.
Somehow, they'd always only arrived at places long after it had rained there, with only the remnants left behind.
Even when they set off out of Salazā, the clouds had blackened as if promising a storm, yet nothing let out.
These clouds were just as dark and finally released the deluge.
It was fortunate that some of the trees proved to be fortified awnings, and so they lay back under them for a while.
Bazil seemed upset by the delay, yet Salīa slipped her hand with his and shook her head.
There were times when they were young that they'd pray for rain just so they could dance in it, their hands just as connected.
It eased back into a drizzle, yet Bazil was still reluctant to have her brace through it and suggested they make an encampment and continue the next day. Yet Salīa shook her head.
She had been embracing the three links on her neck, steadying her pulse with that of her family. This longing had since deepened.
"Let's go," she said. "There's much for us to do when we get back home, isn't there?"
Bazil's eyes lit up, and he smiled.
"Yes, my Queen," he squeezed her hand. "Salīa."
They set forth, leaving the last of the rain behind them, the sun burst through, bringing with it a crowd of pillowy clouds that stroked through the azure canvas, dotted with all sorts of birds.
Pine trees lined like soldiers upon the russet roads winding upwards and ahead back into a tunnel of shade.
As they trailed, they left the earthy, green ground and merged with spilling red sands that now firmed into a long, long road that seemed to have no end.
Each time they crossed a hill, there were more awaiting them. Each curve they took right, they'd soon take left. Each time they thought the ribbon of road would rubble out, and they'd meet the land, a sweltering breeze would roll them dizzily into the next juncture.
It was as long a day as Bazil promised.
Yet it was worth it when they came out of the shadows and into the blazing sun.
Then they saw it in the large, vast expanse of the orange sands.
The looming walls were burnt sienna, patterned with iris fronds, ceasing at the two protruding bronze columns, standing taller than the walls themselves.
These columns were crowned by molded slabs of beige anthemion stretching to each other; each separated by a slender spike. It gated around the pastel-colored palaces of Palosa.
In abundance was a swirl of swaying silk drapes lined back and forth across the streets.
She could only make out so little from behind the wrought-iron glistening gates, bound with a golden swirl that spiraled up into a sculpture of a scorpion dipped in lacquer gold.
"Bazil, it's so beautiful," she smiled. "Look at the—"
He caught the spiked arrow just before her face, his hand drenched in blood.
As she turned to him, another dove through his stomach, yet he kept his stance, his eyes locked on her, pleading, "Run!"
Before she could refuse, another cleaned through his neck and he fell, still.
"Get her!"
She ran.
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