The fires of the camp burned low as Jhakara prepared her equipment. The dragon armor gleamed in the low firelight, its’ surface not yet tarnished by heavy combat. Jhakara had hoped for a chance to prove herself, and here it seemed, she found it. She was ready for a fight. That much she knew. This “Lougas” family had tried to kill Khal Natan… and on top of that had two of her closest friends. She sat and busied herself with sharpening a blade as the orange sunset dimmed behind her, casting everything into shadow.
She’d felt bad leaving them in the forest, but they were blood-riders just as she was. Or “sworn swords”. Jhakara was getting used to the new words. It was good to know they were still alive, but Jhakara worried what else had been done to them. Death never seemed to be the worst outcome. Khal Natan said it was the only thing keeping the Lougas Khalassar alive, so they would not dare to harm them. Jhakara busied herself with sharpening some of her knives and rechecking her bowstring. Elia seemed to be busy with much of the same. Her mind drifted back to Essos again, where she’d first met Toten and Arya.
Some of the younger warriors who hadn’t quite learned their lesson about Jhakara decided they would try to take her. She’d nearly killed Toten that day. She turned to face one of the warriors who had grabbed her, swinging a right hook right for his temple. Toten was there, shouting at the man. Before she knew it, he’d placed himself between her punch.
“Hey, leave her alone!” he said, just as a burly Dothraki fist shut his mouth for him. It had given Jhakara all of the time she needed to bash the Dothraki off of Toten. At the time, all that had seemed important about his intervention seemed to be the precious time it had given her to strike down her assailants. In time, she came to find just how different Toten’s outlook was. Maybe it was all of Westeros that was different. In the Dothraki Sea, everything had been a battle. Sleeping, eating, even riding could be turned into a battle. Not that Jhakara minded fighting. It was what she was raised around. The warriors always seemed to take offense to her fighting alongside them. With the Dothraki, she’d had to fight to be anything but property. Here, it was different.
Toten was willing to pit himself against some astonishing odds to see that people weren’t wronged. What he lacked in fighting ability, he reaped in spirit. And that spirit could be waning any second now. She had found a kindred spirit in Arya as well. Their first few fights had proven that much. The bottom line was that House Lougas had taken her friends. As the light faded, Jhakara looked up to the castle looming on the mountainside behind her. It would be a tough climb, with the sheer rock wall. They’d have to drop onto the battlements from above them.
Yes, it was going to be tough.
But for Jhakara’s friends, she would do anything. Toten was a good man, far better than any of the Dothraki she’d known. He’d helped bring her around to coming to Westeros. He’d been by her side through everything, even the Dragon training. Even in Bonetown, when everyone else had forgotten her.
She didn’t have time to think of this now. Darkness was falling. Her and Ellia had a rescue mission to complete.