EXCERPT

It was peaceful here, beside the river. Aiyana sighed, calling her silver tendrils back into her hand, bundling them up with one another and spinning them around and around until they became nothing more than a blur of silver in her eyes. 

“You are a Silver Weaver,” a voice suddenly rang out from behind Aiyana. 

Aiyana leaped up, heart pounding, and let the silver tendrils dissipate into the ground. She scooped up her bow from beside her, reaching behind her shoulder to her arrow sheath, and drew her bow in one fluid motion, the glistening silver tip of her arrow finding its target almost immediately. A man was standing behind her, leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his broad chest, white sleeves rolled past his elbows. She hadn’t even heard his approach. Aiyana cursed under her breath for letting herself grow so distracted.

“I am of no threat to you, Silver Weaver.” The man’s voice was rich, echoing off the trees as he spoke. 

Aiyana’s arrow remained fixed on the man, her arm unwavering as she held her bow steady. Her eyes narrowed as she drank him in. The man was tall and muscular, his skin a sepia, reddish-brown. He wore a small smirk as he stared, his eyes roving up and down her. His left arm was almost entirely covered in black lettering, the signature mark of the Kainaiwa warriors. 

“What are you doing here?” Aiyana’s voice was hushed but harsh. “These mountains do not belong to your people.”

The man did not answer. He pushed off the tree and stepped forward toward her. Aiyana reacted immediately, tilting her bow down and firing her arrow into the ground just before his feet, the dirt flying up from the impact. The man stopped, staring at the arrow. His eyes flicked up. Aiyana held her breath. She drew another arrow. Then he took another step forward.