‘Yodhya!’ The women cried as soon as they spotted Yodhya descending the stairs with a pale-looking woman tailing after her and stood up. Their actions alerted the guards who went stiff momentarily and clutched their weapons tightly, bracing themselves for any dangerous movement by the ladies.
The stunt Yodhya had pulled weeks ago was a fresh bitter memory in the minds of many and was biting their souls in mortification and disbelief. The bruise from the past fight in the public with a ‘Foreign lady’ who defeated them was an unhealed wound where the authority of the ‘warriors of Azazela’ was put to question and cruel judgement of the residents. The fear and aura that Azazela had built after year’s hard work had been mixed with the sand of the desert owning to the delinquency of one woman,
