[ @suturenin ]
The vast forests of Fire Country have fallen away, and only clinging shrubs remain this close to the Hill Country border. The land feels bare, the rocky landscape foreign and unsettling. Thunder rumbles somewhere far to the south, but the sky above remains dingy gray with threatening rain.
The Jounin at her back shift restlessly. The Sandaime had smiled at her, when he gave her this assignment, but it hadn’t quite reached his eyes, and his smile had been thin where it curved around his pipe. Hill Country, he’d told her, Is neutral ground, and your guard will meet you by the border.
Jun watches idly as a crow’s dark wings carve through a thermal, then send it in a lazy spiral, climbing into the damp air. The Flock eases her tightly-bound fear, if only somewhat - at the very, very least, she has them.
There’s a prayer waiting to be said to the gods of luck, should her guard be one of the more unsavory types Kiri has to offer - but she won’t say it aloud, not yet. Her next two weeks are going to be spent on Kiri’s bloodstained soil, she’d like to save her prayers for when she needs them most.
For now, she will wait.













