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At once, I ran out of the temple, demanding where this 'head' was. The soldier guided me over the landbridge and into the remains of the Matak settlement. Fires were burning everywhere and pockets of soldiers destroyed the main buildings and items. Matak shrines were being destroyed and trampled on. I didn't know if I was to lead these kind of people: I hadn't wanted the war in the first place. I felt as if I didn't belong in my skin. It was an eerie feeling. My mind was soon taken off it as I walked down the hill, adjusting my mask.
The roads were littered with litter and fires. Rats ran around blocked drains snatching the free food. The army looted houses for gold and jewellery. I was horrified once again. Thankfully, the mask blocked my facial emotions. I didn't want the others to see how shocked I was.
We turned down a smaller alleyway to a dark entrance being guarded by four soldiers, one of them being the 'head'. He accompanied us in and at once a putrid smell filled our nostrils.
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The wooden stairs were broken and covered in dusk and rushes littered the mud floor. In the corner sat a woman in a low chair, two guards at her side.
The room connected into a small kitchen with a small fire heating a pot of food. Remains of bread and fish were stored up at the side. Clearly this person hadn't been living the best life. In the corner I saw a figure. One of the soliders saw what I was looking at and blocked my view, guiding me to the woman.
'Her name is Porta,' the head soldier explained.
'That is my name,' the woman croaked. 'And you are in the search of a young man taken from your hands at the Attack of Top Hill.'
'Where is he?' I asked, demanding an answer.
I felt I was so close to finding out where my brother was.
'Ah so many questions and not enough time to answer. First start off by telling me your name. Let me see your face.'
I took off my mask.
'I am Arra Veln, Shaman of my tribe.'
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