The cacti surrounded Rayna. The only dense patch of cacti for miles. Every inch of her eyesight was covered with green and spikes. Perfect, she thought to herself. Now she didn't have to worry about being seen.
Rayna took her long stick off her back. She took some reed from her bag and tied a small, dagger-like granite rock to the top of the stick.
Hiya!
Rayna fell into stance, planting her feet into the sand and eyeing down her opponent---the cactus. She'd never been in battle before, of course. No Zagarian woman has. However, she'd seen glimpses of the enemies when they've raided and killed her friends. Those with pale skin and tan uniforms. Big black boots and green helmets. She'd seen the insignia on their shoulders, that of a crescent moon at the end of a thin stick.
The cacti around her started to morph and blend into the opposing army's soldiers. They towered over her and watched her with hateful eyes. Her heart started to pump and race, and her body moved into action. Before she could make any conscious decision, her arms made wide sweeps with her spear, slicing and stabbing the men. The cut men's mirage would become disfigured and fade away. She cut and slashed, moving in an almost inhuman way---certainly an unwomanly way. It was almost as if her repressed rage at these men who murdered her friends was unleashed in a flurry of attacks.
She could never let her mother see this side of her. The side of her that didn't want to become a Waterweaver like the rest of the girls her age, but a warrior.
Rayna didn't realize how out of breath she was until she took a second to breathe. Sweat dribbled down her cheeks from her hairline, and her face was red with a flush. Her arms immediately felt sore and tight. When she looked around, though, the remaining figures of the men started to move. Slowly and groggily at first, then they picked up speed, their eyes glowing red with bloodthirst. She could hear the drumming of their feet rush toward her.
Her breath caught. Too many...
She slammed her eyes shut and threw her arms up in defense.
"What the… what happened here?" a voice all too real to be one of Rayna's imaginations snapped her back to reality.
She opened her eyes and the soldiers who hated her vanished. In their place was a field of cut cacti, slashed to pieces. Oh no, Rayna thought. Her cover was gone. The footsteps she heard earlier—the ones she thought were the imaginary soldiers—approached closer. Whoever it was, they saw the destruction she caused. Rayna frantically searched around for a place to hide, but she had cut all the nearby cacti. The footsteps approached closer, one after the other, sending shivers down Rayna's spine.
She ran toward the nearest cacti. Though it was small, it would be enough for her slim frame. She kicked up sand in her rush, slipping despite her usual grace. She fell to the ground with a loud thud.
"Who's there?" the voice shouted. A woman's voice, she could tell this time. And it was close.
This was the end. The woman would find Rayna, with her spear, and she would put two-and-two together. The woman would cry heresy, and the whole village would know. Hell, every village nearby would know. And Rayna's mother would scold her, or worse, disown her. Rayna could already see it happening, and she mentally prepared herself for the turmultuous life ahead of her.
BAROOOOOOOOOOO!
Rayna was saved by the bell, or rather, a horn—the alarm system created hundreds of years ago to warn her people of an Essencestorm. Sandstorms that raged through the desert, acting essentially as a portal from the Ether to the physical world, spewing Essence in its wake. Getting caught in its path was a death sentence, and a very unpleasant one at that.
The footsteps scurried away, running for cover from the Essencestorm. Rayna sat still for a moment, her limbs refusing to budge. After the third horn came a different horn, this one indicating the severity of the storm. Typically, the storms were on the lower scale of severity—still deadly, but not as big. A short, high pitched horn was used for these storms. However, that was not the horn Rayna heard. It was a sound she'd only heard one other time in her life, a time marking great destruction. A long and deep roar bellowed from several stations throughout the desert.