Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-10906938-20140218020301/@comment-11457306-20140225014728

M'Nara had rinsed off her fish and taken a seat on a patch of dry sand to eat it daintily. She wished she had taken an apple as well, for she was very hungry and she suspected they would all be gone when she returned. They were luxuries to her, imported from Skyrim or Cyrodiil. She never saw them except when traders came through the desert to sell to the tribes.

The Prince seemed to be plotting on how to begin the work of returning to the village above. He had thanked her graciously enough for the meal. He seemed nice. But he was busy and she had left him alone. The others...she was not sure how to deal with them. Most of them were foreigners. She had no experience in dealing with those not of her people. She did not think less of them--she was just nervous around them, especially so because they seemed so large and dangerous. The female magician especially un-nerved her. The only magic user in her tribe had been the old shaman.

She must think of something to do to make herself useful. The only thing that came to mind was more of the same thing she had been doing, which was gathering supplies, preparing food and the like. So once she finished her fish, she rose and returned to the fire, which had now burned down, to retrieve her gathering sack.