IGNORE. xD

He was practically a child again.

This was one of the things Otsoa thought as he sat in the Endikai camp, overlooking the mixed Gathering. Bruises marked his arms, belly, and chest from a scuffle earlier: a training session. Both the tribes knew that the Thiasans were mustering for war, and Otsoa had become a slipshod warrior over the five years of his ostracism -- soullessness. He was still in pieces, still picking up the shards of the person he used to be and trying to fit them back together. His friends, and Maite, and Garden -- they helped. But in the end the healing was up to him.

The next thing Otsoa thought was that he was lonely, followed shortly by the reassurance that he didn't have to be lonely anymore. Now that his otso was beside him once more, he could be with his tribe, even if the children and the wiser ones were still a little afraid.

And it was with that that he stood up and brushed the grass and dirt from his breeches, and straightened the woven belt Erlea had made for him, marking that his knife and pouch were still there at his side. He felt the brush of fur as he walked, his spirit's presence, and it gave him strength. And then, something white caught his eye as he wandered closer and closer to the Zerui.

Given that this Gathering was to discuss war with the Thiasans, it was quite a shock to Otsoa to see one here, among them. But as he came closer, he realized that it was a Thiasan woman, and women were not war-makers in the Baskari culture -- and probably not in the Thiasan culture, either. He had seen their women, and how fragile they were. Much more fragile than the Baskari women; not good for fighting. So he went closer, examining the white woman with coal-black eyes.

"Where did you come from?" he asked softly, not wanting to frighten her.

She whirled at the voice and looked up at Otsoa with wide green eyes, her shoulders seized protectively together-a hedgehog, rolling up to hide from a predator. But when the girl had time to think she realized that his voice had been soft, and slowly let herself relax. She kept a watchful eye on him, however, and stood perfectly still so he could survey her. Where had she come from? It was a kind question, far kinder than the ones most of the Zerui asked. She simply wished she knew how to answer it.

"...I am the murroi-emazte of a Zerui chief. He brought me here." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, and she looked at the Endikai warrior with a faint dread in her face. The Endikai did not sacrifice, she knew this and was glad-but both tribes took concubines. And probably both thought nothing of using an interloper concubine for their own purposes. She was nothing to either of them. "My name is Renna, and I am not a whore."

Gergori's attack had left her doubly defensive and skittish, and she was more ready than ever to strike first. in fact, she kept one of Izotz's knives in her belt these days. She would not be abused again.

"My name is Otsoa sem'Patxi, and I did not mistake you for a whore."

Well. She was a frightened little thing. Otsoa spread his hands, palm-up, in a gesture of peace. So, a concubine -- he hadn't known the Zerui were taking concubines. Nobody in the Endikai had taken an interloper, at least that he knew of. And while this one was pretty, she was spooky -- and he hoped no one would take a pale-face concubine in the Endikai.

He noted the knife in her belt, similar to the one he himself wore. Her entire body screamed tension. And Otsoa was suddenly unwilling to get too close to the poor thing, until he had gotten her out of that frightened state. The wolf spirit in him was torn -- Renna had showed weakness by being visibly afraid, and the wolf would normally drive out such weakness; but the wolf also wanted to comfort her, because her snappish tenseness reminded him of Maite. And he, and the wolf, had grown very attached to Maite.

"So you are Zerui. I am not -- did you sense it?" Otsoa took a careful step closer, hands still spread. "You don't have to be afraid, Renna. I'm not a bad man. I know what it is to be... outside the rest. I won't touch you."

The pale girl studied him for a moment in surprise. It was almost as if she didn't know quite what to make of him, but then she relaxed and folded her hands in front of her with a small smile. Kind words. Soft words. What she had been aching for since the day she'd been taken. "....I did suspect you were not Zerui, and then you did not take me for a whore and I was certain. I'm glad to meet you..." What had he said his name had been? Baskari names were so hard to remember sometimes! "....Otsoa. "

That was right, Otsoa. She didn't have the faintest idea what it meant of course, but in any case she had remembered it and that was the most important thing. Renna's glance sharpened and she studied him up and down curiously. He didn't really look different from a Zerui warrior, with the exception of face paint and clothing decorations. Otsoa was strong and bruised, just as Izotz was when he came home from training. And then her brow furrowed. How could he know what it was to be on the outside? He was an ordinary warrior, as far as she could tell, and he could see- unlike that horror Gergori. Maybe he was an outcast because he was kind? That would almost make sense. Except Izotz and Zeru himself had both been kind to her in their own ways, and neither were anything close to being outcasts.

And then she realized that neither had been kind to her at first. It had taken some time of knowing before the Zerui men had stooped to show her any kind of courtesy. Most still did not. There was only one person who had been decent from the get-go, and Oihana was a woman in the same situation. She knew what it was.

Renna blinked and then blushed. She had been silent for too long; what must he think of her now? "...I-I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be rude. I was just thinking that you are the first warrior to greet me kindly. I'm afraid I got a little...amazed. Is that why you know how it is to be outside? Is treating the little white concubine gently against Baskari rules?" Maybe it was. It would certainly explain a lot.

He had to hide a smirk at the casual insult to the Zerui -- most of the Endikai would be pleased to hear it, but he had no quarrel with the Zerui thus far. "Glad to meet you, Renna," he said, feeling the new greeting roll around in his mouth: glaaad to meeeeeet youuu. It tasted funny, but then everything did, since he had been gone for so long. Maybe this was the way the Zerui greeted one another, or perhaps it was something adapted from her own language.

In either case, they were both quite for a moment. "It means wolf," Otsoa murmured, feeling the answering call of his jainko'otso -- the interloper said nothing. In fact, she said nothing for quite a long time, and seemed to be studying him. Otsoa didn't mind; he was content to watch her, watching him. It was quite the turn of events, being this close to -- being kind to, a pale-face. And then, something she had said came back to him, about her husband having brought her here.

Ah. So that explained her fears: the girl had not come willingly. She had been taken. And really, what interloper would ever come with the 'barbarians', and live with them willingly? It made him a little sad to think about. He had seen the men and women from across the river, and they interested him. The men with their short-cut hair and big voices, and the ladies -- tiny, like dolls, with full round skirts and frilled collars, and curly, corn-colored hair. This one, Renna, was probably out of her element wearing the Baskari tunic and breeches instead of the big skirts, and her hair was brown and red instead of corn-colored, but it curled in such a sweet way around her face. He'd never even imagined being able to get this close to one. And were they all this fragile-looking?

Then he realized she was talking and smiled. "You're not being rude. And as far as the rules go, I really can't say -- I've been gone for five years. But I don't think the rules have changed since then... as far as I know, being kind is not against them." His smile faded a little when she asked why he had been outside. It was a difficult story to explain.

"Renna, I don't know what your husband has told you about the Endikai. But I'm going to tell you something now: each of us has a spirit, and the Endikai get their spirits on a Spirit Quest. All of them are different. There is the Bee, the Butterfly, the Horse -- that one is very special, the Oak, the River... many of them. And there is the wolf -- which chose me. Five years ago, my spirit abandoned me. And so I was cast out. I was soulless, and it frightened them; does it frighten you?"

Otsoa looked at her from under the fringe of his hair, eyes black as coal. "I had to go on a Quest to find my wolf. It was damaged, and it left me when my wife, Erlea --" killed herself, he finished in his head, but didn't say it. "-- died. It is back now. I'm not scary anymore." At least, he hoped not. A lopsided smile tilted his face, like a little lost boy's.

The interloper girl looked at him, hard. She didn't quite understand this nonsense about losing souls and being scary and wolves and trees and other animals, but she could understand a soul being damaged. Or a heart. She could also understand his final question to her. "Otsoa." Wolf. He was nothing like a wolf; the creatures that prowled the mountains and preyed on anything that had no defense for itself. It was a pretty word for an ugly creature, and an ugly name for a man who seemed to be the perfect opposite of his namesake.

Renna lifted her chin and let green eyes meet black. Now that she didn't think he wished to harm her, she could allow some warmth into the glance and did so. "Otsoa." She was repeating his name foolishly, like a child, but he had left her speechless. "It does not frighten me." There, a coherent sentence. She could pat herself on the back for that one. Renna bit her lip and looked at her feet, suddenly blushing. It had been so easy, once, to just say what she was thinking, and to express what was in her heart-but now she was shy, and bumbled over any attempt to comfort a stranger. She had no faith in her words anymore. Still, she would try. "I do not believe that a person can..." Well, that wasn't quite right. Of course people could lose their souls, in a manner of speaking-through very great wickedness. But even then they did not cease to exist. "I think it....takes a lot to lose a soul. I don't think you did. I don't think you were ever scary."

The girl managed a timid smile for him. "But I do believe...no. I know what it is to lose your heart. To have it break, and then maybe for it to stay broken...or maybe to mend a little crooked. Many people find it frightening because they don't know what it is. They would rather ignore. And they do, and loneliness comes, and with loneliness and the thought that no one cares the broken heart turns dark and questions itself. It has no love for life because what is there but hurt? It would rather hide, and keep itself safe. It would rather...."

She stopped and turned red, then mumbled to her toes. "I'm very sorry about your wife."

"Maybe that's all it was," he replied, slumping down to sit on a felled log. "Maybe I just mended crooked. No one in the tribe really knows, they only pretend to know, what it felt like -- but you are right. Without a spirit, without a piece of my heart, there was nothing but pain. You know this; but you have a spirit, because I can see it around you." Otsoa picked at his fingernails absentmindedly, always worried about the dirt beneath. When there had been no one to talk to, it didn't matter. Nothing had mattered. But now that he was back among his people, he tried to put up a good front for them, to make a good second impression.

Nobody seemed to pay it much mind, his constant ablutions. To Otsoa, it was a nervous tic. But nobody noticed the tense and twitching nerves under the benign gestures. "Don't be sorry about my wife," he said abruptly, but still quietly, almost as quietly as she had murmured it. "She wanted death. She drowned herself because she was ashamed to be married to one without a soul. An Oak spirit. She was supposed to be strong."

Ever since he had seen Erlea's spirit turn haggard and cruel, and demand his presence in the Spirit World, Otsoa could do nothing but feel as though he had been betrayed. Some sacred trust, some promise that came with marriage, had been broken -- Erlea had wanted him to die, for her own selfishness, and it had been something like selfishness that had taken her from him in the first place. It was a sour emotion mixed with a wistful sort of sorrow; he had lost something irreplaceable a long time ago. Now he felt as though he were an old man, still mourning a toy he had lost when he had been a child. But he shook the feeling off in time to catch a glimpse of Renna's red cheeks from where he sat.

"Please don't hide your face, I like this color, this flush... your eyes are interesting."

The girl turned even redder, but lifted her face and gazed at him. It made sense that he found her interesting to look at-vanilla skin spread with soft pink, green eyes, hair mingling brown and red-she had all the colors of an entire garden in her face. Most of the Zerui couldn't help a curious stare every now and then, and she patiently let them look as much as they wanted. Renna didn't suppose she could blame them for it. She was different, and so she stood out.

Otsoa's praise of her color was only part of what was making her blush, however. The rest belonged to the embarrassment that came with learning that his wife had committed suicide, and that he was so frank in sharing it. It must have hurt, so very much, to think that the one you loved best chose to die rather than be with you. So she shook her head. "Still, I am sorry about your wife. She didn't really want death, you know...it wasn't you." Renna met his eyes again. "Sickness and sadness and fear drive people to that. But if there is faith...in something...it never needs to go that far. You didn't rob her of her faith. That was her choice."

Timidly she reached out and put a hand to his shoulder, changing the subject. "Your eyes are interesting too. I've only seen Izotz with eyes so dark." And then a smile. "Can you really see my spirit? What do you think it is?"

"I don't blame my wife for causing me pain, I couldn't feel anything else. But she caused my daughter so much hurt, and that is... unforgivable."

He was certainly giving a lot of his secrets away, today. But it didn't matter, because this woman was a stranger, and she might go home and say to her husband that she had met the most interesting Endikai man, and he would forbid her from ever seeing him again, and his secrets would be safe with a stranger. Or maybe, she would tell his story to the Zerui -- but probably not, because the so called "blood-worshipers" would never believe in something so intangible as the losing of a soul.

Renna put her hand on his shoulder, and Otsoa instinctively flinched at the unexpected touch. He recalled Erlea's final words to him: what is soulless is dead, and one does not show love to things that are dead. Still, he looked up at her, giving her a chance to examine the eyes that she found so interesting. My, but she was pretty up close. From far away she almost looked like a linen doll or blanket, something that was inanimate and not quite real. But from here, there was so much life in her. And just like with Maite, he could feel the soft hum of her spirit in her touch.

He smiled. "I can't see it with my eyes, but I can see it with my spirit. And I can feel it in your hand. It's... singing. We call spirits jainko, I am a jainko'otso, a wolf spirit. And you, I think, because you sing so sweetly, are a jainko'enara -- a swallow, like a songbird."

The color did not fade now. If anything, it heightened-but this time it was coupled with a smile so brilliant it lit up the woman's full face. Renna beamed at Otsoa, and dipped a hand into the pouch slung at her belt. "I do love to sing," she admitted, "and at home Papa always calls me his little bird, and well, look!"

She laughed and pulled out a tiny wooden carving of a songbird, shyly holding it out for the Endikai warrior to study. The wood was warm and smooth, worn from what seemed to be endless handling. In truth Renna was in the habit of touching it for comfort, and since she found herself needing comfort an awful lot a patch on the bird's head had been worn silky from her rubbing it. But she let it rest in Otsoa's hand and gave him a bashful smile. She could trust her treasure with this stranger; he was not like other men. That much was certain.

"He made it for me, years ago. It's very pretty, don't you think?"

He was looking at her, right into her eyes, and something in the expression made her stomach jump. Renna quickly ignored the feeling, however, by convincing herself that he was simply curious like everyone else. She was reading more into it than was actually there because he was being so kind to her. That was all. The girl let her hand drop from his shoulder and put it behind her back, shuffling her toe in the dirt. "I'm glad you can feel my spirit. For a while I was afraid that I had lost it, or would lose it. It's very comforting that to know that I haven't."

He chuckled, taking the little carved bird in his hand and examining it. "I am only guessing. There would only be one way for you to really know, and that would be to go on a Spirit Quest; but the Zerui would never let you do that. But this..." he spun the tiny wooden bird in his fingertips, "is just like what I carry. Many times, we carry a token of our spirit. And you have your beautiful little bird." Carefully, he handed the bird back to her, almost regretfully. The little carved token had something more to it than just smooth wood, it was warm with life in his hand.

"It's very pretty, don't you think?"

He smiled. "The token is a reflection of the person, and yes, I do think it's a pretty bird." He knew she hadn't been looking for a compliment, and his experience with women made him thoughtful enough to give her a moment to recover from the words, and looked away.

Otsoa tugged at the leather thong around his neck until the copper wolf charm came jangling noisily back down along the beaded necklace. Deftly, he undid the knot as it, too, snaked around over his shoulder, taking the necklace from around his neck and laying it across the girl's outstretched hand. He had to laugh again, though, at her comment about losing her spirit.

"I can only imagine, Renna, you losing your spirit after all this. After being tossed over the back of a horse, stolen away by a man you've never met before -- and I am willing to bet you were terrified of him then, if not still -- and brought to a camp full of strangers speaking another language. And then to pick yourself up, agree to marry one of them, live among them, learn their language... you're a true lehoi, Renna. I don't think you could chase your spirit away if you tried."