The Scramble [Complete]

[PepsiWhirda]

Facing the portal, prepared to take the plunge that would shape the next phase of her life, Whirda paused. Her ears perked. An explosion in the distance, from the direction of the fountain. She squared her shoulders. The affairs of those strangers should be none of her concern, and truthfully they weren't, but Whirda had known, too many times, the feeling of being thrust into unfamiliar territory. She had borne the weight of change so many times, decisions like the one she made to separate herself from the group were simple ones. Discord and unfaithful allies were two of the principle ingredients of a concoction that resulted only in death, by her experience.

But those people... some of them were children. Some were not fit to adapt as she was. Had it been too selfish, she wondered, setting off on her own? Without consulting any of them? Aside from the red-haired one, the mass of flesh and arrogance subtly bent on bringing the other newcomers under his banner, the group was young, certainly, impressionable, probably, weak, perhaps, especially when facing an army.

Still, Whirda didn't turn. In her time in Luskan, still what she considered the best eight years of her life, her mother instilled in her a simple litany. To isolate yourself is to ensure survival. Befriend only those you are certain you can trust. The logic had kept her from certain death innumerable times.

The plan came to her almost unconsciously. Omnilium. She had felt the power brewing inside her from the start, the sensation that she was the same, yet somehow different. At the fountain, the red-haired one had used it to summon clothing, seemingly without difficulty or more than a flicker of thought.

Whirda brought that power to bear, crafted a specific vision, and after several minutes, the osprey appeared before her. The bird was sleek, with ruffled brown-black plumage and sharp, yellow eyes. Whirda's message was already clutched in its talons. She smiled. The bird reminded her of an old friend.

"Go," she whispered, and the bird beat its powerful wings and was gone, streaking back over the blank expanse to its only ornamentation, the fountain. Back to Nyx and Eighteen, back to the green-skinned orc woman.

The message it delivered was simple: There are those who will always seek to control you. Be cautious with your trust. If it goes to hell, if you need an ally or an escape, follow me, find me, but I cannot stay here. Not now. Whirda

It was a final gesture of... of what? Friendship? Alliance? Two paradigms to which she'd never lent an ounce of credence. Loyalty, perhaps. To kindred spirits, embroiled in a conflict for which they hadn't asked, weren't prepared. It was a hollow gesture. They would not make the decision to follow on their own. But now it was done. There was no going back. Of that, Whirda was certain.

She swept a strand of white-blonde hair out of her face. Her weapons hissed from their sheaths. Before she could reconsider, without looking back, she stepped through the portal and was gone.