Ray walked silently to where Senosha sat crying for her dead brothers by the ruined gate. She sat on her hunches looking away from the dead monastery; a place she called home.
Ray sat down on a nearby rock on her side.
“They could have left,” Ray said.
Senosha looked at him, “Do you think?”
“I didn’t see any bodies,” Ray said looking into the forest.
Senosha shivered. At least, she thought, there was a chance Father lives.
“We need to talk to those wretched villagers,” she growled. Senosha tried to make herself get up, but even for her, a half-orc, she was exhausted. She just walked all night through the forest and ran back to the monastery.
“We should make camp and rest,” Senosha said. Laying down, she gave in to dulling pain of depression and exhaustion.
In the morning, Senosha, opened her eyes to see the golden light cascading from the sky. The warm heavenly light defrosted her cold hard skin. Morning birds sang their precious tunes as Ray grumbled in his sleep.
Just a few days ago, she recalled, she woke up in the monastery.
The golden haze glistened through the open window. She got up from her bed and shivered, the monastery was always cold, but Senosha never shivered unless something wasn’t right.
The day pressed on, and the monks decided it was time to do their weekly shopping in the nearby port.
“Sen,” Father Orlando said, “you must go with your fellow monks. Help them find the right ingredients for the dinner tonight.”
She nodded her head, and looked down. Father almost never gave her a direct order, but she also never been out of the monastery since she was a baby. All she knew of the locals were that they were human.
“Yes, Father,” she responded. She flew away to the monks standing by the great gate. All of them shifted nervously and looked to Senosha, and glanced quickly away from her glare.
She knew that her presence only complicated their relationship with the farmers and fishermen at the Roxwood Port who regarded the Order of the Araihaja with fear and prejudice.