Chapter 1

Hidden from the view of the discerning eye was a powerful shrine, small and quiet under the protection of a nondescript leather tent no larger than to occupy perhaps two people, standing. It stands alone, tucked near the back of the swarm of much larger tents that protected soldiers, armor, food, and weaponry and a select few priestesses though only one ever entered the tiny structure. A careful hand wrapped in silk and tied with armor tugged the flap of the tent aside to peer into the darkness that threatened to devour the dim blush-pink light that greeted her.

"Mother, bless this field." the woman murmured quietly, stepping from the morning sunlight into the darkness and removing her sandals as she did so. Knees lowered to the modest mat in the center of the suffocating structure - hands deftly moving through the darkness to the flint she knew was nearby in order to light the long stretch of tinder. Once she had a good light she began from her left with the first candle, "Mother, bless the women who guide us," and clockwise, each candle lighting as she spoke, "Mother, bless the children who survive us," until the final candle was brought to light and the tinder extinguished with a quick breath, "and bless the men who protect us." Laying the tinder before her she pressed her palms together and bowed forward.

The inside of the otherwise dull tent was like stepping into another world. Now illuminated by candle light the silk drapes cast a regal shimmer in the shadows - embroidered with scenes of the tales of old, the Shikon no Tama surrounded by demons, humans and hanyou as they fought to take hold of it; a constant reminder in her meditations of the power to corrupt such a warm, powerful artifact could have. Before her, to which she bowed, was a polished wooden shrine. Adorned with flowers and tied with prayers from home about the poles that sustained its roof the structure framed a stone statuette of a beautiful woman. The Mother. She sat upon her pedestal drowning in layers of fabric, carved to every detail-even the forlorn face that peered back to the bowing woman. In her hands was a lily, bloomed and opened wide and glowing that dim hue.

'I've been foolish.' the woman thought as her hands lowered, auburn eyes staring into that faint light. 'On the precipice of a breakthrough and I've let the power dwindle so much. Damnit.' Thinning her lips to a tight frown she brought her hands behind her neck to untie the leather strip at the nape of her neck and ease a small talisman from the folds of her armor. Dangling from the necklace was a golden frame surrounding a large violet gem. Circling the gem were four inlaid smaller gems of different colors, red, blue, gold, and pink, all of which were framed in intricate patterns of vines and lilies much akin to the typical symbolism associated with the Fallen Mother herself. Holding out the talisman she settled it at the foot of the Mother who reacted in turn as the crystal in her small stone hands began to brighten in recognition.

Bowing forward again the priestess placed her hands first on her knees only to have long tresses of wavy black hair brush against their backs. "O Sacred Mother," she began quietly, lowering her shoulders further, "I bring to you my sins and pray for your mercy." With her shoulders still stiffly bowed under the long curtain of hair she reached out for a cup set beside the modest shrine, carefully drawing a stick of incense and lifting it to the candle to her left. "Let me be purified in the light of you charge." The scent filled the air as she brought the incense back and forth over the shrine, then up before propping it into the small wooden lilly beside the structure.

Her hands came back to her knees, smoothing her fingers over the soft fabric of the white tails of her haori before they curled into her palms. Filling her lungs with the now nearly suffocating air she leaned forward again, slowly drawing her hands to the mat before her and her brow to the ground. "Please, lend me your power once more. Allow me to purify the wicked, protect the innocent, and bring peace to the lands again. May your love be known in the wake of your fall."

There was so much bloodshed and corruption. The fear of death, the terror to just how that death would come about by the hands of these vicious youkai; it was almost palpable. She remembered that shaking, the pale wide-eyed horror after her first battle, and she could still see it in the hardened veterans. In this small sanctuary the tension slithered like tendrils of doubt under the layers of leather and silk of her tent to reach her, call for her help to defeat their foes, and here she was desperately trying to glean what little strength the focusing crystal had left. Begging for the Mother to allow her more than she had allowed herself.

Lips tightened further, nails biting into her palms through the silk as she willed herself to lower further to the ground. She was certain the mat's rows of reed were going to make a red mark on her brow at this point.

'Please. Please help me protect them from that wretch's fangs. Let my arrows fly true!'

As if on cue to her thoughts turned battleward the sound of rattling armor came thundering to her back, stopping short of the flap of the tent and dropping to a knee. She didn't move, but she didn't need to.

"Lady Kagome," one of the men intoned, waiting for a hanging moment before continuing, "there are words from the towers; the general would like to speak with you directly on the matter."

The priestess lifted her head slowly and turned to look over her shoulder with furrowed brows. "The general?" she inquired; the voice outside was muffled, though audible enough for her to hear a rough grunt in return which sent her sitting up properly. "I'm meditating," she urged, her tone stern though her attention was still focused behind her, curious expression illuminated in the flickering candle light.

"The general would wish to speak with you directly on the matter, Lady Kagome," he merely repeated, "I extend his deepest apologies for disrupting your meditation, and he understands the imp-" the man cut off with the sound of shifting material, looking up to the figure that now stood before him. Long raven hair draped over her shoulders and back to the loose ribbon tied at the base of her neck, cascading down to nearly draw along the ground behind her. She was already adorned in her armor - the shortened hotoke do gleaming and cleaned, accentuated by the violet beads and demon fanged rosary that hung from its opening against her white haori, the petite and fragmented sode over her shoulders of the same dark pitch as the hotoke do and tied tightly against the soft white only bringing more attention to the pure color, and the kasazuri that rattled against the elongated haori tails tied with brilliant red ribbons. The short, half arm kote was in a similar fashion, glinting in the early morning light as she brought her hands up to tie the talisman back about her neck, tucking the gem under the folds of her haori. Waiting for the flap of the shrine tent to close, the men pushed themselves to their feet, the youngest of the three stepping forward with her bow and quiver which she thankfully took to complete her look.

"Thank you," she supplied with a gentle smile to the man, looking toward the others who had accompanied him-specifically the captain, who now stood rigid under her gaze. Why were they scared of their 'savior'? "Shall we be going?" The captain bowed a stiff bow, his companions following suit and leading the way for the priestess to follow to the familiar over-sized tent near the center of the vast encampment.

The trek was a long one, the camp being one of the largest she'd moved with in quite some time even after their last few weeks of near constant battles. She could expect as much, though; their goal was to finally pierce close enough to the demon lands' borders to begin to gain some ground, yet they sat here on the cusp of breakthrough and at the end of their rope. Each tent she passed gained her an appraising look and appreciative bow, the latter of which she returned gracefully. Soldiers stopped their procession to request blessings for their blades, their armor, or for their spirits. Prayers of good health or an honorable battle, often an honorable death. Each face was clean, hands tidied from dirt yet their skin was worn. Age came easily to these poor souls after such hardships, and even their smiles were tired. The soft hand of their priestess on their shoulders, a word of encouragement. If that is all that she could do to give them hope and a few moments of peace then she would eagerly stop a thousand times on her way to the general. His army needed it.

She hadn't expected any sort of real news; their last push to the front lines of the demon army and their last stand before the next front was to come to take their place and hold the ground they had gained while the current army retreated to rest and restock. She herself was in desperate need of refocusing the shikon no tama's power into the shard she drew from. There was little comfort in the warmth pressed to her chest now, which was a dull pulse in comparison to the vibrant heat it would take to if she had been able to harness the talisman's full potential. This left her praying to the Mother that the general's query was based on a lack of gruel for the troops or a concern of too few arrows for her and her assistants to be of any use in the coming battle. Something benign. Something she was woefully positive wasn't the case.

Two men opened the flaps to the general's tent, the men inside standing from their chairs around the long table and turning toward her to bow as she entered the stuffy leather framed room. "Lady Kagome," the general greeted her, his gruff voice like sandpaper to her ears, lacking any sort of gentleness. He was a hardened man, but she couldn't begrudge him for that. He had been doing this for far too long not to be. Man scent, oil, parchment, and ink filled her senses in stark contrast to the sweet oils and strong incense she wore and had just retreated from. This was the scent of war, and this was the scent of fear. With her hands folded before her, she lowered herself in return, correcting her posture swiftly and moving to the closest empty space at the table while he continued to speak.

"The towers have been watching the youkai forces beginning to make their way from the forestry on the other side of the valley flats. It appears they are fewer in number than expected." His hand reached out with the tip of a slender rod, pointing the sword shaped end piece to the small wooden figurines representing 'packs' of the demons. Each pack traditionally held 100 youkai, which was more than enough to begin decimating regiments in their own lines. There were five packs on this map in contrast to the twelve samurai carvings on the hill opposite them, representing at least 3,000 of their own men. Considerably fewer than had been expected for such a large force in the area. "They've not multiplied much more in the past hour." The dark, piercing eyes of the elder man looked toward Kagome, lofting a thick brow as if waiting for her commentary of which he received none. She merely stood patiently, hands both folded before her and gripping her bow, wearing an expectant expression. An expression that begged him to get to the point. One of his armored hands moved toward the box filled with wooden figures to his right, slipping out a thunder cloud and a lightning bolt and setting them behind the five packs. "Storm clouds have been seen gathering in an isolated position over the forest behind their fronts. They've not moved so we cannot be sure what they're planning."

"Hiten and Manten are a risk, but not unbeatable. They've been pushed back before by priestesses less skilled than those with me now," Kagome stated absently, lifting her bow to reach across the table and gently move a smaller object from their lines - a female figure, and then another, one toward either side of the field. "If we send a few of our soldiers with a priestess on either side of the flanks we should be able to slip past quietly enough and be in position to shoot them down before they cause any major damage. After the spring battle that cost Manten his arm they've been easily spooked by our presence." The various lords looked to one another, still pensive, though whether it was from her matter of fact assessment of the 'threat' or the fact that she had missed something, she couldn't be sure. "They're powerful," she added, trying to soothe the thick air of tension, "I know they cause widespread damage quickly but they're not unbeatable. Have faith."

An armored hand returned to the box, removing a few small pouches holding various other symbols. Returning to the map the general casually placed the figure of a dog's head, fangs opened wide with teeth glinting in the candlelight and red painted eyes glaring hungrily at the humans in its path.

The priestess felt her heart stop and her blood run cold, the room silent except for the sound of their breathing. Everything went numb.

'The Wild Dog...'

"The scouts know the signs to look for, the type of movement and formations its known for. One of the few scouts who have seen his image swears on the Mother that he is down there. Somewhere." Even the sandpaper of the general's voice was tight and reserved with all eyes focused on that lone figure on the map.

"Why didn't you state this from the beginning?" the priestess urged, willing a sense of power into her voice though she found herself breathless since discovering just how uneasy this all had made her. "You know what this means!" A hand came up before she could continue, the grip on her bow causing it to rattle against the table which was quelled by a snap of her own attention to her composure.

"Hiten and Manten in conjunction with the Wild Dog is a strategic nightmare. Whatever it's planning, it will certainly spell disaster if you are not sure that we are prepared for this fight." The insinuation was crystal clear, as soon as the words hit her ears she felt blood rush back to her cheeks, turning them rosey.

The Wild Dog was not known with such infamy for his losses. Those who survived one of his assaults were blessed by the Mother themselves and rarely wished to speak of their experiences, though from what she had heard, she couldn't blame them. A massive demon, taller than any castle with a thirst for blood unquenchable. Each paw destroyed hundreds, claws that rended armies in two and fangs glistening red with the blood of the innocents left behind and undefended as their men fled or were murdered. There was no mercy in those crimson eyes, no stopping the unbridled wrath.

Her training had prepared her for this confrontation. This was her life's mission, why she was brought to the shrine and why she was ultimately in this tent at this very moment and the eyes cast upon her were awash with mixed emotions. Fear, speculation, and hope, yet the general's heavy stare told her all she needed to know; he did not see victory in their future.

Soft lips parted to take a deep inhale of breath, soothing her nerves as she gathered her thoughts. Fear was natural, but in the face of this adversity they had no other options. If this was their chance to finally quiet the Dog then there was nothing to stop the wheel of fate now. The men outside of their tent, the tired, war trodden men were there to fight for their families and loved ones. They suffered based on the hope that their blades could bring about a peaceful future. A future for all of them. This could be their opportunity to strike and she wasn't going to waste it.

'Mother give me strength.'

Dark eyes focused on the map, now clear of doubt as she lifted her bow once again and pointed toward the dog's head. "We will not quiver beneath the fangs of this animal. This monster. It lurks in our nightmares and haunts the eyes of every soul in this camp, the eyes of our children, the eyes of our loved ones. Our people have lived in fear for far too long of his coming and this is the chance we have to strike it down. Is this not what we are here for?" She lifted the bow, pointing in a sweeping, slow motion to each lord of the various provinces. "We know of its presence and that is more than any other army has had. We have an advantage. Not only do we know of its presence but we have a link to a potential plan in Hiten and Manten; it is shameful that you suggest a retreat when our time to rise above and out of this nefarious shadow has drawn near."

'Mother guide my hand.'

The faces of the men now focused on her, the skepticism gone and now blank as they absorbed her words. Her shoulders only squared defiantly, chin held high. "It is in this final hour that we will stand tall with blades drawn. It is now more than ever that we will show the Youkai Lord- " the bow snapped to her right, pointing to the north and toward the capitol of the demon lands, "Sitting high on his throne that we will not be moved, that we will not be silenced." Her free hand lifted to the beads that hung from her armor, bringing the rosary out and over the table to dangle, glinting fang and violet pearl for them all to see. "It is here and now on this field of battle that we will decimate his forces!" fists slammed against the table, pride beginning to swell, "I will collar his precious beast like the dog it is," another chorus of fists against the table, an audible roar of metal ringing against wood while a few of the wooden figures toppled, "before we take the monster's head!" She thrust the beads further into the air in time with the chorus of roars that erupted from the men, fists slamming against the table in a healthy rhythm and sending cups aside, pens and parchment to the floor.

"Gather your men! We will bring them to the center of the encampment and erect as large a barrier as possible around them to keep the Dog from striking us down with another ambush," she quickly instructed. "My priestesses will sit and keep it maintained while we armor and prepare. There will be no warning when it advances so the best we can do is be swift and sure. I doubt we will be waiting long."

The General nodded, turning to the lords. "Move on, then. We have to empty the tents quietly and show no signs of our plans." The room filled with the sound of armor rattling while the men simultaneously bowed, turning to take their leave from the tent in quick succession. The general himself followed suit though he stopped at the priestess's side, turning his eyes to her and letting them take in her much smaller form. She didn't wilt, she didn't flinch, but instead stood tall under his gaze.

"You could be sentencing us to death," he stated dryly.

"I understand," she replied just as such, nodding. He pondered her for a moment, jaw working back and forth while he ground his teeth.

"Let us hope that the scouts are mistaken, Lady Kagome, for the sake of all of our safety. I trust you, and in the power of the jewel and Mother, but understand tha-"

"I understand, my lord," she interjected, offering him a warm smile, her grip tight on the beads she held in her hand. "We will survive. We must. Our people need it." His lips thinned and he turned toward the door, stepping into the light of the quickly passing day and leaving her alone in the tent with the mess of a table and the lingering scent of terror that still played with her nose.

A hand settled on the thick leather, pushing it outward while she turned to look toward the table where the lone figure stood, shaken but not toppled and towering over the lands painted all around it. An angry beast with piercing red eyes and wooden fangs that threatened to devour her without regret.

She seized a defiant breath, steeling herself and turned to the light of day and the fresh air. She stepped into the chaos, pushing into the wall of doubt that threatened to absorb her as eagerly as the piece she left behind.

'Mother let my arrows fly true.'