Nanya.

Isra jolted awake, feeling the tear stains dried on her cheeks. 

It was... it was just a dream, she thought rubbing her warm eyes, a dream of my past... 

She stared emptily at the wooden ceiling, her mind still dizzy from the fever. She hadn't thought about Nanya for years; how long had it been?

The image of the golden dunes washed over her mind, causing her to perspire. The blazing sun pounded against her mind, its blinding light sending her a shear of pain. Grimacing, Isra squeezed her eyes shut. She fought back against the flooding memory that her dream recalled, the one she had managed to block for all those years.

On the vegetated side of the desert, a younger Isra sat cross-legged on a boulder meditating. Fading, reddish brown, henna ink adorned her body, forming intricate artwork of curling vines and snaking patterns. A dark blue headscarf wrapped around her black hair, matching the color of the light garb that only covered her small bosom and legs. Giving in to the stillness, Isra let her body relax to the rhythm of breathing.

She knew Nanya would return soon from the noon's hunt. The sand cat always returned back with a rodent carcass which concluded her day's meal. Thinking about the feline she had nursed back to health made Isra smile to herself. It felt just like yesterday when Isra remembered Nanya was a few months old when she was abandoned by her mother three years ago right here in the desert. Their bond grew over time, making their human-feline companionship very precious.

A yowl startled Isra, forcing the young woman to jump up. 'Nanya?' she wondered. Was that Nanya that she had just heard? The desperate cry grew louder, coming closer to Isra whom turned pale.

"Nanya?" Isra called out frantically. Her heart sped when she caught something rustling by the blooming purple sages.

Nanya collapsed on the dry soil, fresh blood dying her sandy black tabby coat. Her pale olive green eyes gazed helplessly at Isra, crying out pain that could shatter a mirror into a thousand shards. Emptiness slowly filled her dilated pupils, allowing death to take her away from the physical torment.

Gaping with horror, Isra ran up to the feline and fell down to her knees. The blood pooling up around Nanya reached her skirt-like garb, soaking them dark blue. "No… no…" Isra whispered in a broken tone, tears filling her eyes. 'Nanya… who did this to you?'

On one of Nanya's side, a patch of fur was shaved off to reveal an angry incision etched into a shape of a flower, a nightblooming cereus. Fresh blood fell violently from the wound like a waterfall, making Isra shudder from the bloody sight.

A ghastly feeling slithered inside Isra's body as she stared at the deliberately shaped incision. It represented the mark of Desert Flower.

The sound of the door opening tore Isra away from the memory. She sat up foggily and stared blankly at Manami whom was carrying a steaming wooden cup. The tingly, distinct, minty smell tickled the dark haired woman's nose. She knew what it was; it was catnip that filled her with sudden nostalgia. She hadn't smelled it-tasted it for years. The last time she had it was when Nanya was still alive.

"Ah," Manami began with a sigh of relief. "Ye're finally awake. I came up here earlier with another cup of catnip tea, but ye were still asleep."

Isra hung her mouth open, confused why her mate had catnip tea. Manami handed the cup of tea to her whom she hesitated to take it at first.

"That kind lass Yasen bought some from a herb merchant earlier. I'm trustin' her word 'tis good for yer fever."

Yasen? Why would the brunette waste coins on her? "Ah, thank her for me when you get to see her..."

The redhead nodded understandingly. She noticed Isra's scimitar was moved from the chair to the oil lamp, knowing that Yasen had probably moved it earlier to sit. 

Helping herself to the chair, Manami asked, "How's yer fever goin'?"

Isra took a sip of the catnip tea, feeling the tip of her tongue burn. "I still feel dizzy, but I'll be fine tomorrow." That is what the captain had hoped however. Her mind was still fuzzy from the dream, but the tea had wakened her slightly.

Manami smiled thinly, knowing that the captain was just being optimistic. It could take a week for a fever to disappear, but if Isra's immune system was strong enough, it could fight it off in a few days. Watching Isra sipped the tea silently, the redhead noticed the captain's eyes were swollen. Isra turned her head suddenly, noticing her stare.

Manami looked away, guessing it was just the fever that was bothering the captain. "I'll get ye some food once Damon orders our meal," she began as she stood up.

"No, it's okay," Isra said putting the half-drank tea on top of the drawer. "I'm not hungry."

The redhead stared at the dark haired woman skeptically. Although Isra was sick, and it made sense for her to not to be hungry, she needed to eat if she wanted to heal. "I'm still bringing ye food later," Manami replied sternly.

Isra sighed as Manami left her room. Gazing at the steaming cup, she thought of Yasen. She and Yasen were still completely strangers. Why would someone like her care about her health? It was considerate for the bounty hunter to go out and get her catnip, but Isra found that peculiar. After all, she had planned on killing her on Sorrel.

Isra moved her thoughts back to Nanya. For all of those years of escaping her past, it had seemed it was coming back to haunt her. The clear image of Desert Flower's mark made her stomach tightened in uncontrollable hate. And yet, she was still afraid, and that bothered the dark haired woman the most. She still feared Desert Flower, and Desert Flower knew it too.

~~~

Yasen still had not made a decision. Standing before the bulletin board, the brunette stared at the posters with a frown. She sighed and turned away, giving her some more time to think. 

Like I haven't thought enough, Yasen thought sarcastically. She spent the whole day exploring Brassport yet she still hadn't decided whom to hunt after.

Yasen stared at the sunset; the beauty of the scattered fiery colors still hadn't failed to take her breath away. It stole her mind from the harsh realities of life. If only she could live with the sky; walk with the stars and live on without a care.

Grounding herself back to reality, the brunette sighed. She walked out of the town square toward the docks. 

Maybe sitting down on the sand will help me think, Yasen thought. She glared toward the far west where Garnet was anchored; the setting sun casted all of its glorious light on the ship before it retired. The ship was being watched by several trustworthy men that the pirates were acquainted with. They were paid well enough to look after the ship as what Yasen knew of so far—thanks to eavesdropping in the inn.

Yasen's tanned leather boots kicked the golden sand as she edged near the shore. The echoes of seagulls danced in her ears, calming her mind with sea music. She stopped several feet away from the waves and closed her eyes. The wind tossed her brown curls, letting the bangs touch her eyes. Yasen reopened her eyes and brushed the curls out of the way. She seated on the warm sand and hugged her knees. Watching the sunset, she let it take her mind where she wanted to be.