<div class="floatleft">(http://24.media.tumblr.com/0772c3596747f45ef5dcf2d5f074c0ca/tumblr_mf1oeeiy4L1rflk1eo1_400.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Bastet<br/><strong>Current Form:</strong>Haas Filoth<br/><strong>Players Nearby:</strong>N/A<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Haas-Thuban<br/><hr/><br/>Sweat dripped from her brow down top of her nose before she quickly brushed the offense away with the tip of her fingers. As always, her people were on the move to a new location due to growing conflicts with their neighboring tribe. The new chief did not wish to deal with the violence due to dwindling resources with both water and food. Bastet did not necessarily agree with his choice but there were a lot of young ones to be watched and cared for. So now, they walked towards another one of their favorite places to live during this time of year. The land was rich with vegetation for them to harvest and herds. The tribe carried all of their life possessions on their shoulders and on the backs of their camels. Due to growing up within the heat of Duumar, she did not bother to make any complaints like some of the young children walking alongside their parents.<br/><br/>The scent of water in the air told her they had finally arrived to their new destination. There was no time for rest yet since their shelter needed to be created before individual tasks were assigned to each person within the tribe. Her family, commonly seen as unwanted, were forced to create their temporary shelter further away from the group. No one actually stated for them to move out loud but it was implied through years of cold stares. Bastet occasionally wondered if life would be better if the reason for the other's hatred just died but the old man seemed desperate to live even if his drawing breath made the rest of the world miserable. Being one of the eldest in her family, she helped them to secure the poles made branches before cool shade was created underneath a tent colored with a bright red dye. Absolutely exhausted, she collapsed down into the sand as her mouth ached for cool, refreshing water. Her hand went down to her waste, caressing the handle of a blade gifted to her by her father. It was called Askja and had supposedly been in her family for many generations. Even after all this time, the blade was still sharp and dangerous to any of her foes.<br/><br/>A rustling sound caused her to tilt her head up and look directly into her mother's eyes. The woman had not aged well. Wrinkles of pain and happiness was written on her face although now what was most evident was impatience. "We need more water," she said with a wave of her hand to get rid of the insects hovering in the air around her. Bastet turned her gaze in the direction which lead towards the springs of fresh water. It was a good distance away from the main group. "Can it not wait till nightfall," she replied before pushing a thick tendril of her hair behind an ear. There was no answer. Bastet looked back up to see her mother had retreated within the shelter of the tent with footsteps so quiet it did not even alert her warrior daughter. It was one of the skills of her people. Knowing the answer, Bastet rose to her feet and did not bother to even brush the sand from her clothes. Before leaving, she picked up a handmade pot to carry back some water. She began to walk, paying little attention to the people still putting together their makeshift homes. Their eyes stared at her although she was not as scorned as her family members. Over the years, she proved herself useful to the tribe again and again in their battles.<br/><br/>It did not take long until the quiet noise of them was behind her.