Continuing on from where we left off last week — Bellica Agate and her regiment have arrived in Southland, where an army of “gypsies” has taken over the town. And yes, this is all first draft stuff, so there will probably be some grammatical errors.
It didn’t take long for someone to come out and meet them. A whole lot of someones, truth be told.
Their welcoming party consisted of fifteen people, all armed with spears or longbows. Damien to her right fidgeted, his hand twitching towards his sword; she held her hand out in a steadying gesture. The people greeting them were gypsies – Agate would have known even if they hadn’t been talking among themselves in Ixil. Their hair was dark, lustrous and curly; their teeth shone white against the dark brown hue of their skin, and their eyes ranged from a light hazel to the velvet brown of a deep pool of water on the forest floor.
The sight of them sent a pang of longing so sharp through Agate there was no way she could convince herself it was loathing, this time. Ever the perfect bellica, she kept her features composed and tried to ignore the feelings being stirred up at the sight of a people she’d lived with for so long in her youth.
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