Sir Kiba swore. "Hana! What a senseless piece of recklessness!" he cried angrily.
She took no notice of him. She was still staring at the smooth rock fate. "I don't understand it. How could I miss? It's as big as a house," she murmured thoughtfully, and raised the revolver again.
But Sir Kiba caught her wrist. "For God's sake don't make a fool of yourself a second time. You have lowered your credibility quite enough already," he said in a low voice, with a glance at the group of watching Sunas.
Hana jerked the little weapon back into its place reluctantly. "I don't understand it," she said again. "It must be the light." She mounted and wheeled her horse alongside of Sir Kiba's, and held out her hand. "Goodbye, Kiba. Expect me a month after you arrive. I will cable to you from Otogakure (capital of Sound Country). Good luck! I shall be there in time to be your best-man," she added, laughing, and with a nod to Akatsuchi she turned her horse's head southwards—toward Wind Country.
For a long time she rode in silence. The quarrel with Kiba had left a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew that what she was doing was considered unconventional, but she had been brought up to be unconventional. She had never even thought, when she planned her tour, of possible criticism; it would have made no difference to her if she had thought beforehand though, and she had been amazed and amused at the sensation that her proposed trip had caused.
The publicity to which it had given rise had annoyed her intensely, however; she had been scornful that people could not occupy themselves with their own affairs and leave her to deal with hers. But that Kiba should join in the general criticism and present such a complete reversal of attitude to the opinions he had always held was beyond her understanding. She was angry with him, and contempt was mixed with her anger. It was inconsistent with the whole of his lifelong attitude towards her, and the discovery of his altered ideas left her rather breathless and more than ever determined to stand to her own deeply-rooted belief.
Kiba was responsible for those beliefs, he had instilled them, and if he chose now to abandon those beliefs then that was his concern. For her own part she saw no reason to change principles she had been brought up in. If Kiba really thought there was danger in this expedition he could have sacrificed himself for once and come with her. As Shino Aburame had said, it was only a month, an insignificant length of time, but Kiba's selfishness would not allow him to make that concession any more than her own obstinacy would allow her to give way. It was too much to expect. And this was the desert! It was the expedition that she had dreamed of and planned for years. She could not give it up. The idea of danger brought a little laugh to her lips. How could anything in the desert hurt her? It had been calling to her always. There was nothing strange about the scene that lay all around her. Her surroundings seemed oddly familiar. The burning sun overhead in the cloudless sky, the shimmering haze rising from the hot, dry ground, the feathery outline of some clustering palm trees in a tiny distant oasis were like remembrances that she watched again with a feeling of gladness that was fuller and deeper than anything that she had been conscious of before.
She was radiantly happy—happy in the sense of her youth and strength, her perfect physical fitness, happy in the capacity of her power of enjoyment, happy with the touch of the keen, nervous horse between her knees, exhilarated with her new authority. She had looked forward so eagerly, and realisation was proving infinitely greater than anticipation. And for a whole month this perfect happiness was to be hers.
She thought of her promise to Kiba with impatience. To give up the joyous freedom of the desert for the commonplace round of Lightning Country, social life seemed preposterous. The thought of the weeks in Kumogakure were frankly tedious; Turtle Island would be a little less bad, for there were alleviations.
The only hope was that Kiba would find the wife he was looking for quickly and release her from an obligation that was going to be very wearisome. Kiba was counting on her, and it would be unsporting to let him down; she would have to keep her promise, but she would be glad when it was over. Kiba's marriage would settle definitely the possibility of any further disagreements between them. She wondered vaguely what the future Lady Inuzuka would be like, but she did not put much pity on her. Girls from Lightning Country as a rule were well able to care for themselves.
She stroked her horse with a little smile. Kiba and his possible wife seemed singularly uninteresting beside the vivid interest of the moment.
A caravan that had been visible for a long time coming towards them drew nearer, and Hana reined in to watch the long line of slow, lurching camels passing. The great beasts, with their disdainful tread and long, swaying necks, never failed to interest her. It was a large caravan; the bales on the camels' backs looked heavy, and beside the merchants on riding camels and a motley crowd of followers—some on lean little donkeys and others on foot—there was an armed guard of mounted men. It took some time to pass.
One of two of the camels carried huddled figures, swathed and shapeless with a multitude of coverings, that Hana knew must be women. The contrast between them and herself was almost ridiculous. It made her feel stifled even to look at them. She wondered what their lives were like, if they ever rebelled against the dullness and restrictions that were imposed upon them, if they ever longed for the freedom that she was indulging in, or if custom and usage were so strong that they had no thoughts beyond the narrow life they led.
The thought of those lives filled her with aversion. The idea of marriage—even in its highest form, based on mutual consideration and mutual forbearance—was horrible to her. She thought of it with a shiver of absolute repulsion. To Kiba it was distasteful, but to her cold, reserved temperament it was a thing of horror and disgust. That women could submit to the degrading intimacy and confined existence of married life filled her with scornful wonder. To be bound irrevocably to the will and pleasure of a man who would have the right to demand obedience in all that constituted marriage and the strength to enforce those claims revolted her. For an Eastern woman it was bad enough, but for the women here in the West, mere slaves of the passions of the men who owned them, unconsidered, disregarded, reduced to the level of animals, the bare idea made her quiver and bring her hand down heavily on her horse's neck.
The nervous creature started sharply and she let him go, calling to Akatsuchi as she cantered past him. He had ridden to meet the caravan and was dismounted, deep in conversation with the chief of the armed guard. With the thoughts that it had provoked the caravan had lost all interest for Hana. She wanted to get away from it, to forget it, and she rode on unmindful of her escort, who, like her guide, had stopped to speak with the traders. Hana's horse was fleet, and it was some time before they caught her up. There was a look of annoyance on Akatsuchi face as she turned on hearing them behind her and signed to him to ride beside her.