Kenosi

"Kenosi,"

She thought,

"Kenosi."

She had never liked it. After all, it was a boys name. Her father thought it would make his only child strong, and it some ways it did. But why Kenosi? Couldn't her name have been Kgalefa? Or Kefenste? Those were strong names. Good names that she could have felt proud of.

Now she could think of nothing more fitting. Maybe her father had some premonition of her future, maybe the name was cursed. No matter the case she really and truly was Kenosi.

The wind bit as savagely into her beautiful dark skin as the Tau into the Phala. There was no feeling left in her feet or hands. Sweu. It was everywhere. Above, below, as far as the eye could see it was sweu. How she wished to see a mokolana tree, or watch the pitse ya naga fight over their mares. Even to see the sky, the earth, or sea again!

At least the cold had helped numb the pain. If she could somehow keep the ugly gash in her arm dry, she just might have a chance.

An eerie wail echoed through the storm. Kenosi ducked as a pair of scaly talons bluffed a strike. Not these monsters!

Her heart skipped a beat. They were back.

Through the white shown one of the fiery winged serpents. It was terrifying. Never before had she come in contact with dragons, she didn't even know that they existed until seeing one with her own eyes. Giant, scaly, cold blooded, fire breathing kwena. Why oh why were such things created?

The creature roared in her direction.

Kenosi had no doubt that it knew she was there, but why ignite? Why roar? Was it taunting her? Or distracting her so that it's mate could sneak up from behind?

she spun in a circle, the corners of her frozen blanket cracking on the ice. The other one was out there. Somewhere.

She had to keep moving.

...

Two days had passed since her escape. She had traded hands many times. First it was those pasty white people with the ridiculous red bird plumes. As laughable in appearance as Phiri, and just as thirsty for blood. They burnt her village with all whom she held dear to the ground. The remnant of the people where led, in chains, to strange northern lands far, far from home. Each place they stopped was a little further, each place they stopped a few more of that remnant were taken away. At last the ship docked at an island where the rain was not a blessing but a curse that never ended.

Sold to the people of the land, Kenosi soon learned that the Anglos could be as cruel as the red plummed Phiri. They fought savagely amongst each other, amongst a people they called the Celts, and amongst whom they referred to as the savage Norse.

They spoke with hatred of the Celts but of the Norse they spoke with fear- and for good reason. It seemed the Norse did to them what the red plummed Phiri had done to her people.

...

Kenosi did her best to keep quiet. Climbing up a mountain in an exhausted state, wounded, and without feeling in your feet doesn't lend itself well to the practice though. Perhaps, with the wind, they wouldn't hear her?

High above on the mountain top came a hiss. Not the hiss of a dragon, the hiss of steam or vapors escaping their prison of magma. Kenosi looked up at the red glow.

A mighty thud in the snow sent flurries into the air. She could barely make out the form of the landed reptile, but it was there.

She stopped in her tracks.