Headed by a Snake

"Girl..." Januarius stood tall, looming over the Elven child named Coraline Heartsong, "what is the name of that Decanus?"

"Centurion!" Phaedra scolded, "We don't have time for this!"

"His name... is Decanus Tychon!" The elf girl shouted.

"Right. That's an uncommon name--" Phaedra groaned. "However, the fact that you know a Decanus DOESN'T F*CKING MATTER!!"

The Optio placed her hand on the hilt of her sword and stepped forward aggressively, "Now, I *implore* you, you stupid, Flame-taken, xeno SLUT... to F*CK!!! OFF!!!! before I--"

"Hold," Januarius swiped out his hand to stop her... and he tilted his head in curiosity, "Miss Coraline... what color... is that man's hair?"

"Centurion!" Phaedra scowled, "You MUST be joking!"

Januarius did not answer, keeping his eyes on the elf through his cold metal mask... as his heart raced... as he prayed to the Eternal Flame to rekindle the hope he'd abandoned long ago.

Coraline tried to reply, but instead let out a hacking cough. Afterwards, she wiped a thin trail of blood from her mouth... "It's... it's green, Centurion."

...It seemed that Guild Metal Wolf had a chance for survival, after all.

"Phaedra, get the map from the tent."

...

⟬ Some time later... ⟭

Despite her namesake, Nova always preferred the night.

The desert was an unforgiving wasteland of scorched earth during the sun.

Despite the chill of night, one nocturnal hunter reigned supreme over the few other natural predators...

Elves.

The thirtieth Masked One of the Ebon Mask tribe tread barefoot over the soft sands...

For a reason she couldn't identify, the feeling of sand and dirt between her toes felt... off...

Distant, perhaps?

Her balance wasn't as steady. The iciness of the wind didn't bite as cold against her skin.

It felt like... she'd drank too much fermented juice-- even if she hadn't touched the stuff in over six years.

The fresh smells of the dewy cacti and the pervasive coppery scent of the slain didn't seem as strong...

...Nova wasn't old enough to start losing her senses. She'd turned 119 only a moon prior...

She didn't feel young, either. 119 was twice as old as a human corpse.

These worries, she pushed to the back of her mind.

Cuts and broken bones healed.

Aches and pains went away quickly enough. The stomachaches and ringing in her ears went away eventually. Compared to that, a muted sense of taste and smell was nothing...

Nova lived in the moment; it was the only way to enjoy life! And her latest endeavor... was sneaking up on her dearest friend, Notaku.

Using merely the strength of her arms, she pulled herself up the side of a smooth-faced rock and stealthily peeked over.

The most handsome bachelor in the tribe was kneeling in a puddle of blood... sweat dripping down his strong brow, crimson staining his hands. Beside him was a curved storage jar, fat in the middle... and Nova immediately understood what had happened.

She stood up and took a two-stepped leap off of her hiding spot, flipping through the air. She landed perfectly beside her target, as noiseless as a shadow.

Even the Chieftain couldn't perform better!

"Hey, there, handsome!" She grinned. "How 'bout you stick that sexy butt up in the air while you work?"

Notaku froze, his shoulders jerking upward.

Nova chuckled to herself. The surprise was a success, so she rewarded herself by teasing the man in the common tongue. He had no idea what she was saying-- and probably wouldn't believe anyone if they were around to translate.

She stepped around, to in front of him, careful not to step in the puddle of blood and gore... and she looked at his maskless face, forlorn and weary.

Notaku was the strongest man in the Ebon Mask tribe... and the perfect warrior. His eyes were as deep as the ocean, his arms as thick as tree trunks, and his heart as full as the moon.

He also had the learning capacity of a hardfruit-- and he was too stubborn to learn anything besides Elven.

"(I shall make a guess, Elder Brother... You spilled something! Did it belong to your sister?)"

Notaku quietly lowered his head, refusing to meet her gaze.

How childish... Nova shook her head, "(What is it? Oil? Animal fat? Move aside and accept my help.)"

She tried to shoo Notaku away, but he refused to budge.

Oh, the pride of men!

Elf or human, it seemed that men everywhere were convinced they were better off alone.

"C'mon, then! (No one wishes to see the First Warrior on his knees,)" She teased. "Me, on the other hand..."

Whatever Notaku was doing-- he was probably doing it wrong, anyroad.

"(Elder Brother...)" She leaned close to him and tilted her head... "(Are you crying?)"

Nova had never seen Notaku cry before... but it wasn't exactly outside of his personality.

He was a simple man. When his arrows didn't find their mark, he'd growl like a dog and flex his entire body. When he ate Nova's food... his radiant smile was the envy of the warm sun.

Crying, though... that *was* somewhat extreme.

It lit embers of rage in her heart... "(You... when the Chieftain speaks, you must listen... but words do not draw blood! Is she not your sister? You weep like she gave birth to you!)"

Notaku placed a scoop of blood, dirt, and bone into the jar. He neither wiped the tears from his face, nor the filth from his hands.

"(I... lost someone very close to me,)" He spoke with a grave face.

The words struck Nova's heart like a bolt of lightning.

Someone close? To her dearest elder brother?

WHO?!

No... No. Notaku had never been good with words. Whatever he was trying to say was surely wrong.

But even though Notaku was the most eligible bachelor in the tribe, Nova absolutely could NOT fathom another woman trying to pursue him.

There was no female warrior stronger or more beautiful than the Chieftain-- but she was Notaku's elder sister. That left only Nova suitable as the First Warrior's match.

If anyone dared to vie for her position, she'd challenge them immediately! To mortal combat, even!