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Andia Loranne Tunune Andia pushed a sweaty strand of her blonde hair out of her eyes, behind her ear. A tight headache-y feeling wracked her temples; the sun spitting its hot summer rays made it worse every second she stood out of shade. She grunted, heaving her traveling bags over her shoulder again. The Aes Sedai shot a glare at her. "I told you, girl, you should have packed lightly. What were you thinking? -- Never mind, you weren't thinking. Ready or not, I'm ready to move on now. An' you'll be joining me, whether ya like it or no!" she snapped. In her irritation she had slipped into the tangled, undiscernable web of mingled accents that she occasionally used when her temper was up. Andia nodded weakly. She lagged slightly behind Meriah Sedai, a tall, slender but awkward figure, light skinned with eyes that glimmered brown and gold at times, and green and blue at others. She looked just as exhausted as she felt: her red dress and blue cloak were rent with long tears and covered with a thick layer of dirt. Even clean, she was not beautiful -- but it was a near miss. Had she not been destined for the grueling life of an Aes Sedai, she could almost have been pretty enough to be a tavern dancer. Unlike her angelic mother, she would not have whirled hotly on anyone who suggested it; she would have blushed and been rendered speechless for several minutes. But she didn't look like a dancer now, with her bags slung over her back, and her hair matted and broken-off, her fingernails cracked and her skin dry and sunburned. The morning was not spent but she was already tired . . . and there were many hours left in the day, many miles before the sun would curve downward . . . many days before Andia would finally see it rise over the tall gleaming towers of The Grey Tower.
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