It was one of that golden hours; I was trying to regain some strength, silently cupped in some hidden corner, when I realized I can no longer look at that damn man as my mere troop captain. Muddy sweat is all over his body, dripping from his temples to his cheeks and chin. Everyone can tell he's exhausted, but he's never let a single hint show. Instead, he kept running around the camp for god-knows-how-many lapses. It was an act of protest-- his rebellion for the decision of the Chief to keep his hands off the Shiku trench, a disputed territory and the border between the tribes of Iblan and Dag-Iw.
Ullinen has been obsessing about the area since his assumption of the post as the troop captain, eagerly trying to win the land, and even starting a war against Guma-- a tribe ruled by the most powerful clan among the Northeans.
I am Mira, the sixth troop commander of the first brigade, second-in-command to Ullinen, and the only successor of Dagli. I've been fighting alongside him to win Shiku, as it was a very important place related to me and my brother's roots; It is where Muhi--a powerful tribe with rich historical and ancient origin, used to exist, before the genocide that wiped out the entire Muhian race 28 years ago.
I am the daughter of the late Chief, Kilus, who died in sickness back when I am only 6, and my brother 14. My mother, Maru, was his head combat adviser; a skilled huntress and a granddaughter of Muhian origin who also passed only months after my father. My great grandfather was a Muhian who married an aristocrat of Dagli. Despite having born in this tribe, my great grandfather's Muhian roots still dominated our traits in all strength, skill, and wit. However, it wasn't a common knowledge among the Daglians that their current chief-- my brother, Tilus, and I, were the last remnants of Muhi. Not if it would mean the same fate to Dagli as Muhi.
The rulers of Guma and Gamu tribes belong to the same clan, making the two the most powerful among the Northeans, both in combat and economy. The Gumians have been monopolizing rice, and the Gamians, salt-- two of the most expensive products abundant in the region. It may look simple, but it was the cause of the 8-year tribal wars that ended only recently, after the surrounding tribes submitted to their wishes, as the wars brought nothing but devastation along an epidemic that had spread to most areas in the region, making the weaker tribes-- despite having strong convictions and will to fight-- vulnerable and helpless against them. It was understandable that the most practical action is to surrender, if the war would only cause more loss because resources, money, and lives are being wasted. Thus, Guma and Gamu, being the wealthiest, become the ruling clan of the region.
But all that are nothing but history now. Dagli have already won autnomy, and no one, including the Gumians or Gamians, can meddle with our tribe's business. We operate our own market, have a well-established military force in par of that in Guma and Gamu, and influence almost equal to the ruling clan. We are almost in peace with all the surrounding tribes; only if it wasn't for the disputed Shiku, Dagli won't have to waste lives in the war.
I don't like death. In fact, I hate it. But there's something about Shiku that makes me want to fight for it...perhaps to retrieve the land I can barely say my own as I've never been there nor somewhere close to it when the tribe still existed. I've only been there when Ullinen started the battle to conquer it, and make the area free from any tribe's control.
I don't understand where that strong conviction came from, perhaps from his righteous nature. He's the only son of the general, most likely the next in line, too. His father is my brother's most trusted adviser and teacher, and a very respectable man. He cares for the poor and values justice. Maybe it was the wrongful end of that race that ignited his desire to free their land as the last act of respect for them. I'm not sure, though. But I have a feeling it is something close to that.
Blown by the cold gentle breeze of the approaching autumn, strands of hair that escaped my now-messy braid brushed against my cheeks, dragging my wandering thoughts back to the person I was watching.
The dusk have already painted the sky red and orange as the sun's rays gradually fade from the horizon, making his figure a beautiful running silhouette I can't bring myself not to look at. It was a big question what exactly did I find attractive about him. I can't tell why exactly my attention is drawn to the general's son-- my captain, when all he ever did was to get mad at everything. He's the grumpiest person I've ever met who hasn't smiled even once, or showed that he could make any other expression than his cold, blank, stare. Maybe I've already lost my mind. I couldn't find an answer no matter how much I ask myself. I just know that what I feel is not what a troop commander must feel for her captain. It's something less than love, but definitely something more than respect.
Perhaps... I am infatuated.