A tight braid trailed down her back, the cloak was wrapped around her shoulders, the gauze and bandages were wrapped completely around her torso, the wounds still not completely healed. It had been a week or so since she'd gotten away, her legs and feet still had cuts, her fingers and hands were still cut up, bruises were on her wrists and ankles. Dazed, drawn. Tarlaka didn't exactly look like her picture of military commander, no one here knew who she was anyway, even after she'd given them her first name, sure that if her captor had gone looking for her he would never throw her name around carelessly.
Of course, that meant that Tarlaka didn't go on saying who she was, shame clouded her smarts, so she kept quiet and accepted the hospitality of the village; they didn't ask questions. Though, it was obvious they ached to ask her what the large marks on her back were, why she had a brand, why she was covered in bruises and whip marks.
A week had gone passed or so, borrowed clothing from the elder son of the lovely couple who patched her up.
Tarlaka lifted a gloved hand and traced her reflection, staring at it, the bruised colour under her eyes from not sleeping, nightmares, the hollow dazed look in her bright blue eyes, the strange blonde hair. A sigh and she tightened the cloak before she stepped out from the couples room, looking at the older woman who smiled tenderly and wordlessly handed her a backpack. Her voice was back, and it was odd, feeling the heavy cloth against her back, her shoulder blades, still so sensitive.
Without her wings behind her, she felt unprotected and exposed, but she took the backpack with a gentle smile, gave the elder woman a gentle hug and murmured a quiet thank you. Despite the ordeals she'd gone through the past few months, she was going home now, and she'd fight with tooth and claw to get there. It was mid-day, the settlement was small, so most people were in their homes eating lunch.
Tarlaka walked like she always did, head high, long braid bouncing against her back, shoulders straight. The backpack held in her arms, her back far too sensitive to carry the weight of ever light food supplies and bandages. A heavy sigh and she stood at the edge of town, fingers clutching the backpack. The castle, no... Home... Was a far ways away. And she'd have to do it all alone, too.
It would be so easy, to drop everything and stay here, and it made her slightly afraid that she even thought of something like that. Home. "I want to go home."