Zarayne
Cairhien hadn't seen a summer this wet for decades. The heavens were unremitting in their assault against the people of the Rising Sun. For two days and three nights, rain in some form battered down across the land.
Zarayne had not anticipated such an eventuality. This close to the Dragon Wall, there had not ought to be rain. This close to the land of her ancestors, the weather should have been balmy. Instead the Aielwoman shivered, and for good reason. She lay in amongst some scraggly bushes far from the roads or villages. The ground was uneven grassland, most of which was transforming into uneven mud. One dress was acting as bedding and absorption against some of the sodden ground. Her cloak was a blanket, whilst the blanket holding the rest of her worldly possessions was her pillow. Even for an Aiel, this was slumming it.
Zarayne lay still despite the raindrops splashing against her face. There was nothing to be done about it beyond enduring it. Water welled within her left ear, garbling the sounds of the rainfall. It irritated her, but she couldn't sleep on her front or back. Endurance: that was the only thing for it.
At some point Zarayne had got sleep. She knew this because her left arm now hurt after having lain on it for some number of hours. Pain was just another necessary burden as she gathered her things together. There was no point in changing clothing at this stage. Everything she owned was wet, with the only differences being how muddy things were.
It took her only a few minutes to have everything packed up within the blanket again. The muddy dress was tucked in like a makeshift cloak. It was nothing more than ruined cloth, but she couldn't part with it. She only had these two dresses now, and the one she wore had to survive to the Three-fold Land.
Zarayne slogged eastwards across the muddy plains. She'd long abandoned her slippers, instead moving barefoot. The cold sludge no longer irked her as it once had. Under these conditions, her bar for what she could tolerate was sinking lower and lower. What she would pay for one of those unappetising Mess Hall meals now wasn't worth considering. Her stomach rumbled at the thought.
Morning gave away into the afternoon. Heat beat down from somewhere behind the clouds. The rain had grown lighter, down to a fine drizzle. Between that and the warmth, the day was looking up. Zarayne's feet ate up mile after mile as she basked in the luxurious weather.
Afternoon became dusk. A few miles ago, the former Accepted had veered from her previous course. A village beckoned in the distance, and she couldn't brave another evening sleeping in puddles. It wasn't dignity talking – that had long since vanished – but a darkness that swelled in her occasionally. Mornings were the worst when the darkness came. At least if I refuse to get up in the morning, I won't be wallowing in the mud for hours.
Dusk became night. The rain grew heavier. There was no problem entering the village – it wasn't so grand as to have a palisade – but no-one tried to approach her. She wandered around clueless, looking for somewhere that may have a bed. Or a stable. Or a hayloft.
Parting with a substantial proportion of her remaining coin, Zarayne negotiated space in a hayloft of an inn via the medium of the stablehand. She was too tired to haggle or argue. Honestly, she was too tired to even recognise if she'd been scammed or not. Clearly she looked the worse for wear, for no-one ever questioned her for being an Aiel. That would have been a fine ending to her story; run through by a village guardsman on the account of being Aiel.
In the shelter of the hayloft, Zarayne finally had a chance to dry off and clean up. The former was done by liberal use of the One Power. Most women would have drained the water from her belongings, but Water was her weakness when it came to channelling. Instead she utilised heat and fire, warming the fabric until the wetness faded. With Earth she chiselled away the caked-in mud, where it was still possible to liberate the fabric. Some stains were permanent, but again, they only had to do until she got to the Three-fold Land.
Proper tiredness began to force itself upon her. Zarayne stopped her attempts to dry things as she got ready for bed. The cloak went over a padded bedding of straw and she lay upon the cloak. It took a number of twists and turns and kicks before she got into a position that didn't result in bits of straw stabbing into her.
Her attempts at sleep did not last long, however.