Why must the north be so cold and damp? Why was there so much rain? Why were weaklings constantly trying to hunt and kill her? These were the kinds of questions Bahl-Dara asked herself as she ran through a thicket of twigs and underbrush. Of course, it hardly slowed her, but it was an irritant and made it far easier for others to continue to track her. Not that she had any intent to throw them off her trail; after the last four days of being harassed non-stop by hunting dogs and wannabe warriors, she was well and truly done with trying to avoid conflict. She just wanted it all to stop.
The first attack was multiple weeks ago now, not long after she had gone her own way from the army. Unlike others who planned to return home in the east, the giant-kin had instead decided to stay behind, linger in the west, and cull any remnants of the insurrectionists that had remained. This was, as it turned out, a horrific mistake.
