◤"This is who you were; warriors adorned in gold and red. Warriors hardened by the roughest hand. Warriors who knew nothing but the cold iron and the dry desert."
◤Disclaimers: Fluff!! And some good old angst. Contains violence but I'm not very descriptive. Warrior au. Fantasy!! Because that's my favorite genre to write. Completely imaginary, all the ideas conveyed are false.
◤Word count: 16.6K
◤Note: Clan names Heje and Zemha are extracted from the Arabic words azemharir (الزمهرير) which is the moon at its brightest, and alhejera (الهجيرة) which is another word for the sun's extreme temperature.
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1.
"Too tight," you winced as your leather armor was tightened, barely allowing your lungs to expand.
"Sorry," your best friend, Yuna, apologized as she loosened her knots. It was almost noon, and you were helping each other get ready for the battle dawning on your clan. It was nothing new. You were warriors, and this was your preparation before walking down the aisle. You took a deep breath, checking the tightness of the armor that hugged your body.
"Good?"
"It's fine," you assured your friend before helping her tighten her own. You took turns braiding each other's hair into firm braids before applying your clan's colors on your cheeks and fixing your favored weapons into their respective places. You looked at your friend as she hefted her axe, making it seem as light as a feather. You could never fathom how much strength her petite body encompasses.
You heard the blow of a horn, calling the members of your clan out of their abodes. Wives would bid their husbands goodbye, mothers would bid their children farewell, all with wishes of victory and a safe return. You supposed it was tearful—you had nobody to part with. Nobody to wait for your safe return. It was only you and Yuna in your small house, and both of you were heading off to fight on the battleground. You prayed for luck instead.
"Let's go." Yuna strode ahead of you. The spear strapped to her back glinted in the light streaming from the windows. It was dear to her, you learned after living with the girl for so long. It was her father's weapon.
You followed suit, carrying an axe in each hand as the sword on your hip swung about. When you left your home, you spotted men and women, the young and the old, all clad in their leather suits, flaunting weapons sharpened to a red edge. Stripes of red, gold, and brown ran across their cheeks like claw marks, colors they held like crowns over their heads. Like moths gravitating towards the light, you marched away, numbers increasing until you formed an army.
The eye of heaven gazed down at you fondly, her hands of light stretching out to embrace your skin. You felt the tingle of heat and your eyes turned to the sky. The sun, the eye of heaven, sat in the blue with all her glory. She didn't neglect you as you marched towards the battlefield, keeping watch over her people. The Heje.
