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Hajat

I am one of the children of the great fire, the sun, and the oasis of ten thousand stars, where we drink when the rains do not fall. We are a proud people, owing allegiance to none save our own caravan. We love first our tribe, then the sands, our bed sheets.

My father was the story keeper of the tribe, who kept the largest tent for weaving tales and smoking long pipes in the late dark with the other men. Like all our people, he smelled of orange oil and the strong, bitter tea we drank to keep our minds clear and truedreaming.

My mother was the first daughter of the fire, the fiercest warrior of our tribe. We called her the Dawn Viper, for she was a deadly asp in guise as one of the People. Mother taught me to use my eyes for capture, to charm snakes and walk undetected in the shifting dunes.

My people are scattered on the winds now, the grains of sand blown about the world by some Great Mother or Father. We carry our fire, our ten thousand stars, and our scent of orange oil with us, though the Dark Sentinels would wish to take the desert from our hearts.

In exile, I am Hajat, the lone daughter of my People, member of no Clan. I fight, wearing my desert's dunes as scarves.

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Page last modified on March 12, 2009, at 10:35 AM