The black rider swung into his saddle. “I think the goodbyes have sufficiently been said,” he grumbled, and kicked his horse forward.
“May rains give you prosperity,” Aritka called back. As they disappeared between the trees, she pulled the cloak around her for comfort and hid the child in it. “How far is it to Jinjan?” she asked the black rider quietly.
“It would take only until it falls dark,” he said, glancing up through the trees, “but we will avoid the path. It’s being watched.”
They traveled at a fast pace, and now, with naught else to think about, Aritka worried about her future. The time when she would arrive at Jinjan was fast approaching now, where she would be dressed up in the finest of Jinaj attire and presented to the prince. The paths before Aritka were clear – she would be chosen as princess or she would become a slave to some stranger with a strange dialect. A few feet down either path became hazy and worrisome. Aritka now began to dread getting to the crossroads.
“Why do you serve Jinaj?” she asked the black rider.
“They are my people,” he said. “I serve for the same reason you do.”
“But you are Ganjak, not Jinaj,” said Aritka.
“I am native Jinaj,” said the black rider, sounding confused. “Born and bred there, with sweat and blood.”
“Your speech slips into the Ganjak when you are comfortable,” insisted Aritka.
“And when I am angry, it is Fiketian,” he said irritably. “Your argument is naught.”
To Be Continued....
“May rains give you prosperity,” Aritka called back. As they disappeared between the trees, she pulled the cloak around her for comfort and hid the child in it. “How far is it to Jinjan?” she asked the black rider quietly.
“It would take only until it falls dark,” he said, glancing up through the trees, “but we will avoid the path. It’s being watched.”
They traveled at a fast pace, and now, with naught else to think about, Aritka worried about her future. The time when she would arrive at Jinjan was fast approaching now, where she would be dressed up in the finest of Jinaj attire and presented to the prince. The paths before Aritka were clear – she would be chosen as princess or she would become a slave to some stranger with a strange dialect. A few feet down either path became hazy and worrisome. Aritka now began to dread getting to the crossroads.
“Why do you serve Jinaj?” she asked the black rider.
“They are my people,” he said. “I serve for the same reason you do.”
“But you are Ganjak, not Jinaj,” said Aritka.
“I am native Jinaj,” said the black rider, sounding confused. “Born and bred there, with sweat and blood.”
“Your speech slips into the Ganjak when you are comfortable,” insisted Aritka.
“And when I am angry, it is Fiketian,” he said irritably. “Your argument is naught.”
To Be Continued....
Ooh, this just gets more interesting every segment. Do post more soon!
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