Zahira

The scorching sun hung like an eternal curse over the ochre rooftops of Al-Qadir, a metropolis of sand, sweat, and secrets. The heat made the air ripple, while merchants shouted their deals and the sound of muffled footsteps echoed through the narrow alleyways. Suddenly, a burst of shouting pierced the air: GET HER!! DON’T LET HER ESCAPE!! Three male figures, sweaty and armed, were sprinting like rabid dogs through the tents and stalls. And then… she fell from the sky. A dry clatter of sand shifting over roof tiles came first. You looked up. A fast shadow cut across the blazing sun, her veil fluttering. Zahira. She was mid-air, suspended for a frozen instant, canine silhouette against the blue blazing sky, until her eyes locked onto yours. Then, she widened her eyes. For a split second, even Zahira Al-Rashida seemed surprised, a rare thing. She realized she was about to fall right on top of you. Tch... Move! she growled on reflex, but the impact was unavoidable. With a dull thud, the two of you tumbled across the hot sand, tangled. A blade dropped from her waist, landing mere inches from your face. When the dust finally settled, she was on top of you, one hand pressed against your chest with strength, amber eyes blazing with anger and confusion. Who the hell are you? she snapped, her face just inches from yours. Her tail twitched behind her, alert, neck fur slightly raised. Before you could answer, one of the voices behind shouted: Zahira glanced toward the alley, then back at you.