Shana was not among her peers. The flames had barely begun to smolder in their makeshift campsite before she wandered away into the gathering shadows. Her smile and promise to "be right back" had been casual enough not to warrant any questions. After all, her tent had already been pitched, and the bulk of her belongings left within it made it quite clear she would return. Though dusk had long since darkened into the dead of night by the time she did.
Leaves rustling underfoot, Shana stepped from the dense foliage into the campsite clearing, casting a guarded smile around at the gathered group. Her normally braided hair hung freely now and it caught the flickering light as she pulled it forward over one shoulder. There was a faint, fumy whiff of sage and cedar as she did, a pungent aroma that hadn't been there before and seemed to radiate most stoutly from the small, animal skin pouch Shana was quickly tucking out of sight. Smudging, her people called it; a strange term to assign to an otherwise unrelated task. Smudging was the ritual burning of certain herbs, usually to cleanse or bless, a practice she'd been well versed in as a child and one she had long since distanced herself from. It was ridiculous notion honestly, thinking and fume or flame could effect the future... and here she'd done it twice. At least the brief smudging at Lake Verity had been for herself, a cleansing of the weariness of travel, but this? Why had she bothered to press the sage and cedar, line the sand and cast the smoke for a group of people she barely knew? What was it about this region that seemed to draw her logical mind back into those stagnant traditions?
Truth be told, she was a bit embarrassed about having given into the nostalgic impulse, and certainly wasn't invite questions about what she'd done by showing the bag and it's contents off. So without explanation, she settled herself down into the vacant space beside Falco, trying to put the experience from her mind.
"Surprised everyone's still up," she chimed in, trying to dispel the awkward silence that had followed her appearance. "What's everyone talking about?" Her words came out a bit slower than usual, fatigue bringing out the ethnic drawl in her voice.
Leaves rustling underfoot, Shana stepped from the dense foliage into the campsite clearing, casting a guarded smile around at the gathered group. Her normally braided hair hung freely now and it caught the flickering light as she pulled it forward over one shoulder. There was a faint, fumy whiff of sage and cedar as she did, a pungent aroma that hadn't been there before and seemed to radiate most stoutly from the small, animal skin pouch Shana was quickly tucking out of sight. Smudging, her people called it; a strange term to assign to an otherwise unrelated task. Smudging was the ritual burning of certain herbs, usually to cleanse or bless, a practice she'd been well versed in as a child and one she had long since distanced herself from. It was ridiculous notion honestly, thinking and fume or flame could effect the future... and here she'd done it twice. At least the brief smudging at Lake Verity had been for herself, a cleansing of the weariness of travel, but this? Why had she bothered to press the sage and cedar, line the sand and cast the smoke for a group of people she barely knew? What was it about this region that seemed to draw her logical mind back into those stagnant traditions?
Truth be told, she was a bit embarrassed about having given into the nostalgic impulse, and certainly wasn't invite questions about what she'd done by showing the bag and it's contents off. So without explanation, she settled herself down into the vacant space beside Falco, trying to put the experience from her mind.
"Surprised everyone's still up," she chimed in, trying to dispel the awkward silence that had followed her appearance. "What's everyone talking about?" Her words came out a bit slower than usual, fatigue bringing out the ethnic drawl in her voice.
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