Erramun crouched low within the tall grasses, his bare chest a deep tan from summer’s heat. Upon his feet he wore leather moccasins that silenced whatever sound his steps may have made otherwise. His dark gaze swept over the terrain, ever vigilant, ever careful. He did not trust these lands for here handfuls of the zuri aurpegi, the white face, people were scattered throughout. It was only for his horse’s benefit that he came. The brown and white paint needed the lush, more nutritious vegetation that grew around them in wild abandon. Erramun and his zaldi had spent far too long in the hunt and not enough time replenishing their bodies.
Had he been within da’Zeru, Erramun would have dozed into a light slumber with his body effectively camouflaged. Instead he remained wary, the lines etching along each muscle drawn taut as his vision retained its sweeping motion. He wanted to miss nothing. The horse munched contentedly, its own ears pricked as if aware of the danger. Erramun respected the animal, knew its hearing was far greater than his own. His calf muscle cramped as he stayed low but the ache was not registered in the hunter’s mind. He had long since learned to fade any such hindrance by silently offering prayer to Eguzki thus concentrating on his faith.
As the afternoon wore on, the sun’s rays beat down upon man and beast. Each had a film of sweat beaded across their physique, neither bothering to wipe the resulting dampness away. Erramun watched the horse’s tail as it swished away the flying insects. He leaned back, squatting now as he drew forth dried jerky from the leather pouch kept tied to his waist. He had so far seen no one, which of course was just fine to the Baskari man. He would in fact prefer to remain in solitude, especially if that meant avoiding the pale faces who dwelled across the Oran River, but it didn’t seem he would today. Just as he noticed the horse’s slightest movement, he heard the rustle of approaching feet. One person, he thought, and lighter than himself. Erramun wasn’t one to hide. Rising so that he would appear in plain sight, he stood in wait while the steed returned to its grazing.

Renna had not yet learned the art of being wary. Oh, she was certainly careful, and rather jumpy-ever since Izotz had taken her, she kept as far away from members of his sex as was humanly possible and looked both ways before stepping out of the tent, but that did nothing against those who might be hiding in the grass. The interloper girl never even considered that a Baskari warrior would hide himself from her eyes; she couldn't fathom what the point of that would be. The barbarians were strong. If one of them wanted her, he wouldn't need to hide. It had already been proven that she was helpless against one of them.

Today was one of those days. She sat, and wove, and chatted with Oihana....but before two hours of this had passed, the girl felt so restless that she was compelled to leave the company of the women. It was a homesickness time, and it helped to wander a little, alone with the wind and the grass. She didn't want to be bothered when the memories proved too insistant to shove away, and somehow adding the extra lonliness of the plains helped a little bit. It was a reminder that her lonliness was small; that she herself was small and didn't matter so much. Renna never was able to figure out why that was so soothing, but she was not the sort to mind not knowing. It worked. That was the main thing.

The weaver was about a half a mile away from the camp when she spotted a horse, grazing away with no thought for the rest of the world. Renna's eyes lit up and she picked up her pace, eager to do something good for the tribe. Who could scold her for returning a stray horse to the herd? True, she was not the most impressive rider around, but Izotz had taught her well and she was fairly confident in her abilities with a Baskari-trained animal. The young lady cooed softly to the creature and smiled when it lifted its head, then went ahead and walked toward it. This would be easy.

It came as quite a shock when a man stood up out of the grass. Renna bit her lip and stopped short, then took a careful step back. She was ready to run. "Oh. Hello. I'm sorry, I didn't know you were..."

She faltered and fell silent, one hand moving down to the knife at her waist. What must he think? He had been right there, and she was white, and waltzing up to his horse like she meant to steal it. The knife would do her no good at all, of course, since she didn't know how to use it- and there was little chance of her outrunning him. Besides, running would only make this look worse. So she tried a smile instead, and backed up one more step. "I will leave now. But ah, your horse is...beautiful."

That at least was true. Paleface though she was, Renna loved horses and had to admit that this startling warrior had a lovely one. "What is his name?"

Erramun’s scowl portrayed his opinion. He wasn’t happy his horse had dismissed her as a threat. Worse yet, the animal had taken a step towards her when she called for it. He had stood, his arms crossed over his bare chest with a glint in his eyes that told without spoken word how he felt about her intrusion.
The woman in front of him was nothing but a murroi-emazte. That was plain to see. She could never hide her white face, never stop the tainted blood that ran through her body save for death itself. When she hesitated and stepped back, the scowl on his face turned to partially amused grin. Erramun wasn’t a cruel man, not towards his own people, but he had little tolerance for those who had intruded upon da’Eguzki. She was nothing more than aid to those men, no matter who claimed her now. Still, he was an honorable man.
He then saw the subtle move towards her wrist, his gaze slitting half closed as if in silent dare. Should she draw weapon on him, he’d be left to teach her some manners. When she backed away more but presented the smile for bravado’s sake, he had to admit she was bolder than he initially thought, or perhaps just smarter. He said nothing though, having ignored her first greeting completely and only nodding after she inquired of the horse.
The paint gelding was a remarkable specimen of his kind. He was young but well trained, used to the simple rope halter and the freedom of not ever feeling the weight of a saddle upon his back. He was trained to respond to shrill whistle and certain hand signals, not to walk right to an unknown person no matter how exotic her pale skin and light green eyes seemed.
The white woman’s words were surprisingly fluent. Erramun wasn’t certain if he approved of this though. In fact, he continued to just stand there and stare at her as if she had not spoken in his native tongue. At long last, he figured perhaps he should at least inquire as to who she was and keep an eye out to make sure she wasn’t really a spy of some sort.
“Zaldi,” he practically spit the word at her, pointing his thumb in the direction of his horse. His face wasn’t friendly but neither had he moved so much as a centimeter in her direction. “Hodei,” he answered finally, saying the word slowly as if she were too dumb to follow it. He didn’t care that she had just spoken more words than he. It was a way of getting the point across that she was beneath him, beneath his own people.
“Who are you?” he demanded then, eying her with that unwavering scrutiny. He felt no passion towards her, preferring his women dark skinned and obedient. He spat down in front of him, the action leaving no doubt she had nothing to fear if the worry had been he would touch her.

Renna's smile wavered. The man's hostility was plain as day; she could feel it hemming her in on every side-a violent, throbbing force and certainly a reason to panic. Even Izotz had never looked at her with such hatred. One could argue that he had hurt her the most, but he had never hated her. No one had. Even Hibai had been polite to her face, and the other women whispered about sorgin magic and paleface curses and evil prayers to the undead God, but she could understand that. She was something new and unknown and it was natural, she supposed, for everyone to assume the worst. But that was a whole lot different than outright hatred.

Numb fingers slipped off the hilt of the knife and she took another half-step backwards before forcing herself to stop. The girl winced when Erruman spat and turned her head away. She'd expected anger from the warrior; or disbelief, shock, amusement, wariness, even curiousity-any one of a thousand different emotions. Any and every emotion except the faceless hate staring her in the eyes.

The sudden wrench of her heart was enough to make her lift one hand to her breast. Renna pressed down on the offending organ in an effort to still the painful staccatto, but of course it was too no avail. Memories flashed and flooded after weeks of suppression, and would not be stayed despite every wish of their bearer. John Mochrie, tenderly inviting his little daughter to sit on his knee for a story and a kiss. Marta, combing out dark curls with all the care of a mother and two tiny sisters taking turns adding ribbons to the braid. Golden-haired Thomas, twirling her round and round in the air to let his sister fly. A lifetime of love and gentle living, and now...and now...

This.

For a moment the weaver looked completely stricken, but she caught her tears before they fell. Renna lowered her head to the man staring her down and thought a little prayer; a plea for the right words and the ability to speak them calmly. Then she fixed her mind on the warmth and safety of home and let the words fall.

"...My name, sir, is Renna alab'John." Amazingly, her tone was serene. Naturally her hands were trembling, but she solved that by clasping them tightly behind her back. "As for who I am..."

She had to admire his choice of question. Of course she understood that he wanted her to admit her lowly station in the tribe, but Izotz was not there to soothe her or protect her and there was a wildness rising that could no longer be ignored. Whatever the consequences, she would have her way here.

Renna drew herself up and looked him in the eye, all the while keeping her voice soft. "I am the concubine of Izotz sem' Hibai. I am his property and his captive and his lover and the only one able to comfort him when his father died. I am a weaver, and I hope to be a mother, and I am lonely everywhere I go. I am a sister and a daughter and..."

She was speaking too quickly now, with words tumbling over each other like stones in the river. The girl wet her lips and gentled her tone, inclining her head with maidenly modesty. "...And I would be a friend, if any here could look at me without seeing the soldiers you all count as enemies. I regret that it seems impossible for you, and...for whatever my people did to you, or your loved ones, or your God...I am deeply sorry."

The dignity of the speech was slightly marred by the sudden shame coloring her cheeks, but was quickly redeemed by the trail of a quiet tear moving toward her chin. Renna did not move to wipe it away. Instead, she bowed herself to him still further, and whispered her final response. "And, if none of that interests you, then I introduce myself as your servant."

The interloper felt the bitterness rise in her throat, and quickly threw it behind bars. Humility would do no good if it was coupled with even the slightest amount of sarcasm or arrogance; nor would she ever be happy living her life in the same hatred others lived theirs. So she raised her head to give him a gentle smile, and offered out a flower from her hair. "You, sir, must be the fabled warrior who could make himself invisible. I didn't even see you until you moved."

Since Erramun had been staring towards her, he easily caught her wince when he had spit. For a moment, he thought she’d run and time felt suspended in those few seconds. He couldn’t control the hatred. When he looked at her face, he saw the white men responsible for the devastation brought onto the Zerui. He saw their traditions falling apart, being forced to fight alongside the Endikai. He saw blood.
Once more he listened without movement nor speech. Her name was memorized, stored away for future reference. When she mentioned her captor, Erramun twitched the slightest bit, almost indecipherable if one wasn’t looking for it. He had been raised with firm guidance and expected to offer the same loyalty to the tribe as his parents. He did that, his riled posture lessening just the slightest degree. It still didn’t make her presence right but if Izotz wanted to lay with her, he had no verbal objections. She was strangely beautiful in her own way. The green eyes were captivating, almost enough to ignore the fact she was skinned in ivory. He only hoped she wouldn’t become the mother she wished to be.
Her next words were almost enough to cause Erramun to feel remorseful of the way he treated her. Almost. They were just words though and even if she hadn’t actually taken part of the wrongs committed against da’Eguzki, she had a long way to go to gain any speck of trust from him.

She was full of surprises for sure. She was afraid at first, he knew this. Then she almost ran away and now here she was offering herself as his servant. His brooding glare was getting harder to maintain and a hint of a smile was beginning to crack through. “It is enough,” he told her. Did they all talk so much? She talked so fast it made his head spin.
As she presented the flower to him, he grudgingly stepped forward to accept it. It wasn’t the flower itself that mattered. It was the action. It was outright rude to deny a gift especially from one who had just presented herself as honestly and meekly as she had. Erramun had to cover several paces as they were distanced apart a fair bit. He moved through the tall grasses with apparent ease. When she told him she hadn’t seen him, even teased him a bit about being invisible, Erramun looked at her in contemplation. He chose to ignore the humor she had attempted. “That is the point, Renna.” Her name was odd to him, the syllables so unlike those he was used to. Her name came out sounding drawn out, more like a “Rennnnahh” than anything else.
He took the flower, tucking it into the leather belt tied around his waist. He had come here without a tunic and so he had no pockets. The flower would be crushed in no time at all but the fact that he had not only taken the gift but placed it on him was representative of the truce called and accepted. She had passed whatever initial test he had dealt her even if he hadn’t warmed towards her kind. She would always be different.
Now it was his turn. He hesitated before pulling out a hawk feather tucked behind his ear. Twirling it once in his hand, he then stuck it out to her. His expression was mixed now with sorrow, sadness for his people that it came to this. Making truces with enemies. He was a very proud man but he was also bound by the unwritten rules of honor. He could not refuse to return her gift else his intent would be false.
“You are not my servant,” he would say to her as she took the feather. He didn’t mess with the property of other Zerui men. Her existence was relative to what Izotz declared. Had he ordered her stoned to death, he’d not have disobeyed. Still, this wasn’t the time to imagine more killing. There had been enough of that already.
“I am Erramun sem’Mitxel,” he told her, finally breaking the shield of silence. “I come here to let Hodei eat,” he continued, watching her now with a curious glance and less hostility, “I hide because of the white men.” He pointed across the last hill to emphasize his point. They lurked there, watching, waiting. He couldn’t afford to let down his guard. He had a daughter to provide for.
He didn’t apologize for his demeanor. That would have been asking too much. He did however, whistle once, the sound easily carried over to the paint horse. The animal came willingly, happily, lowering his muzzle into Erramun’s hands briefly either in greeting or just looking for a treat. Erramun patted his neck, running his hand down to the withers. It was obvious he knew horses. Every Baskari knew horses.
“Do you ride?” he asked Renna. It was another challenge of sorts. Was she too soft to know how to handle a horse? Was there real courage beneath the bravado? He smiled then, the expression amusement for he had already dismissed her at being able to control Hodei. “We don’t use saddles,” he added with a grin.

The interloper concubine accepted Erramun's returned gift with a nod of thanks, and took a moment to braid his feather into her hair. It was a perfect way to show gratitude for the truce, but also a perfect opportunity to reassess the situation. He had almost smiled, once or twice; and that might have all been in mockery, but somehow Renna doubted it. The warrior still hated her, but his responses at least indicated a measure of honor. It was true that Renna was still a very young woman with little life experience, but so far it seemed to be a rule that a man with honor was a man capable of softening toward another human being.

She straightened then and returned his glance, but held her peace for the moment. He was evidently a man of few words, and anyway a quiet smile was the best response to a new introduction. Renna canted her head slightly to one side as she listened, all polite curiousity. Again the smile flickered at his tactless reminder of her servitude, but she recovered it swiftly enough. She'd certainly heard worse.

Still, it was with no small amount of relief that Renna stopped her new acquaintance on the subject of horses. He was definitely mocking her now, but she didn't mind. Teasing about her fabled interloper softness was infinitely preferable to the constant jibes on her forced status as a pleasure slave.

"...Hodei." The girl stepped over to Erramun's mount, her hands cupped before her in a greeting. There was a new brightness in her eyes to be near the animal, and it was with unmeasured delight that she took his muzzle in her hands. Renna laughed softly and cradled the great head against her shoulder, stroking her fingers down the roughness of his mane. Erramun might not have understood the tender emotions of this paleface woman, but there was no mistaking the light in her eyes. It was love.

At last she remembered that he was there, and lifted her head to answer the warrior's question. Renna kept herself pressed against Hodei as she spoke, cuddling the horse as she would a kitten and finding refuge in his girth. "...Yes, I ride." Hodei nibbled a stray curl, and she had to smile. "Much better now than when I first came here. I tried to run away, once, and nearly killed myself not knowing how to ride without the saddle. But I've been learning."

She pressed a kiss to Hodei's cheek. "I used to be afraid of horses, before. They were so big, and I so small...but not now. Horses and dogs both..." A big smile. "I love them dearly. I think they know it, too."

Then she fell silent. Erramun disliked prattle, and anyway Renna did not yet feel comfortable diverging the reason for her love. He was a big, cold man; not someone to confess to. He didn't need to know that horses never cared about skin color or religion and never injured to the extent that humans could; nor that dogs were happy to simply cuddle in bed without a thought to tainted blood and no more violation than an occassional surprise lick to the nose.

The homesickness throbbed again, and almost automaticaclly the girl tangled her fingers into Hodei's mane. She was astride in a trice, and moving into a trot before she remembered that she was mounted on a stranger's horse, blushed, and pulled him to a stop. Still, she had to look just once to the horizon-only a few hills away to Thiasan land and home-

Very, very slowly, Renna let herself down, and forced herself to move to Erramun's side. Wordlessly she held out a woven cord that encircled her wrist, and before he could even blink she had bound the free end to his arm. "I'm sorry, sir."

She turned to press her face into Hodei's neck. "I know you want nothing to do with me, but I must ask you not to let me run. " Renna gave him a trembling smile. "Today is an aching day; when I miss home like this I always want to run. I can't now, though, I can't-I would shame Ema."

'Ema' might have been recognizable as a pet form of the title 'Emaita', but even if it wasn't, the interloper was not concerned about Erramun assuming the mentioned man was any other than her captor Izotz. The woman continued with muffled voice, her face still hidden from his view. "You see, he's been so kind."

And she was going to run the Sundance for him, but it would be incredibly foolish to spread that ahead of time. Instead of elaborating, the girl let out a rueful sigh. "It's strange. The first night he had me, Izotz told me that theree was no shame in what he was about to do. It was a lowering of rank, he said-but no more; mostly an honor to my bloodline-but bad men try to lay with me any chance they get, and good men see me as the dirt beneath their feet. Not even a worm, because what kind of man goes out of his way to tread on a worm?....How is that no shame?"

And then came an urgency, out of nowhere; so insistent that Renna could not have stopped her mouth if her very soul depended on it. She lifted her head and looked the warrior dead in the eye, almost disturbingly earnest. "If you ever have a daughter, sir, and there is danger...Kill her."

With that she turned and went back to currying Hodei with her hands, banishing foul memories in the warmth of a perfectly neutral companion.

Erramun watched as the pale face approached his horse. He recognized the passion that shined from her sight and glanced away from it. It had been too long since he had seen that passion in a woman. His late wife Gaztain had looked at him much the same way once with that eager affection. And just as Hodei was held in rapt attention by the female’s gentle touches and soft whispered words, so had Erramun been to Gaztain. The pain of their separating was dulled now but the flash of memory it brought wiped the former rigidness of hatred from his face. White or not, this Renna had that same emotion he had once clung to.

When she started that unfamiliar, lengthy chatting again, his head turned towards her in time to see her practiced pull onto Hodei’s back. Horses to him were as needed as the sun and grass and water. They were a constant, always there, for which to be grateful and thankful for. He respected horses, treated them with the noble care they deserved, but they were just horses. He wasn’t one to consider they were absent of the prejudices inside mankind, inside himself. Hoofed servants if you will but ones that were representative of the way of life.

When Hodei eased into the trot his rider directed, Erramun tensed. He wondered if he’d be forced to ready his bow and prevent her escape and what exactly would Izotz think if he returned her wounded? Luckily, Renna answered that before he had time to draw his arrow. He knew the specific whistle Hodei had been trained with that would halt him immediately. It was a sound Zerui men shared with no one else, not when their life could be hanging by whether or not their stolen horse returns to aid them. He knew Hodei would have halted, waiting as if he’d been frozen in time and fully expecting his light rider to be tossed off and a new one jumping on. That was the routine. Stop, stand still while the humans skirmish, and then do as you’re commanded at once. He also knew Renna showed more horsemanship than he thought possible and so had pulled his bow, one hand almost plucking an arrow when she had returned and suddenly tied herself to the very arm then left reaching for nothing.

The action and the words that followed were enough for Erramun to grasp her by the arms, his hands around her just below the shoulders and facing her directly. The fact that he had been reaching for his quiver was enough to convey he wouldn’t have let her escape. He didn’t need to tell her that. “You have feelings for Izotz?” he asked in surprised disbelief as she went on talking, speaking of honor and worms and shame. She had even mentioned her first night together with her captor and the words spoken to her, something Zerui just never talked about as far as Errmaun was concerned. And surprising them both, his head went back and he laughed loudly, releasing her in the process though they remained tied by the rope. He understood what she was saying. Bad men wanted to lay with her but good men thought she too dirty. The reasoning amused him, finding it ironic she then had considered him a “good” man since he would never allow his seed to spill inside an ivory body.

Upon her last words though, his chuckling abruptly stopped. He did have a daughter and vowed she’d never know the wicked ways of the interlopers nor the Endikai. Everything he did was for her. It was his responsibility she had food to eat and safety in where she stayed. The image of her imagined death was disturbing, picturing the chubby hands reaching up to him as she giggled and called him aita.

Erramun frowned down at Renna then. Murder was not acceptable. Death was only honorable if one has either reached Old Age or killed in combat. Renna spoke of missing her home. Did she think death was better than the life she’d been given? So far he thought it sounded as if Izotz had treated her too mildly. Erramun would not have tolerated a slave left to wander alone and then he wondered if she had really been trying to escape before coming upon him. His eyes narrowed, their center pupils regarding her with suspicion. By Eguzki, he’d not admit such private matter as having a daughter to an interloper.

“The Zerui do not kill each other,” he reprimanded her, his tones flat with condescending. Did she not know anything? Only the Endikai or the interlopers could be sacrificed. Giving the rope a firm tug, hoping to cause her to be yanked around a bit, Erramun stood directly in front of her while he lashed out a scolding.

“Do you not value your life, murroi-emazte?! Do you not value the gift of life Eguzki has given you?!” Erramun was fast approaching furious. She could whine all she wanted about how drastically her life had been changed but in his mind, she was pretty damn fortunate Izotz had treated her as well as he had. Rather than trying to reason with her, he walked forward, thus forcing her to follow or risk stumbling. She had tied the rope to him so she’d better learn to keep up. He had no tolerance for other religions and other blasphemous ways of regarding one’s life. Danger or not, you lived your life and offered prayer to Eguzki for it.

After several long paces, Erramun stilled. He let his anger diffuse. She was only a pale face after all. She would never understand. He glanced to her then, the hatred not back but just a stony exterior instead. It would take time for the hint of smiles to return.

“You don’t know where you belong,” he stated to her matter-of-fact with a certain degree of pity audible. Erramun couldn’t think of anything worse than not having faith in Eguzki. It was unbeknownst to him that his youngest sister Itxaro struggled with that very worry. To him, it was inconceivable. He was Zerui. He was proud. He was dedicated to their Tribe. And she was testing that very existence.


(*aita = father)

Renna was about to say something, but then Erramun put his hands on her arms. The effect was the same as a driven arrow would have been; her skin went white as winter snow and she stiffened in his arms. She could scarcely hear his question over the thunder of her heart, and offered no resistance when he decided to let go and tug on her rope instead. The girl fell to the grass on the first yank. She landed clumsily, but made no effort to right herself. It would have been completely pointless to even try; the touch of a man brought such terror now there was no hope of controlling her limbs enough to stand. It was just as well. Erramun went into a fury and continued to jerk her rope around.

The little woman kept still and silent until Erramun finished his tirade on a note of pity, looking down at her with all the contempt of a man strong in his faith towards the weakness of a woman with none at all.

You don't know where you belong.

The pity in his tone was almost worse than hearing the derision, but Renna said nothing in answer. She shifted onto her knees and wrapped her arms slowly around her shoulders, his voice echoing in her head. You don't know where you belong; do you not value the life you have been given; you have feelings for Izotz....murroi-emazte....

How she hated that term! Slave-wife, not even worthy of being called by a proper name; worse than a slave because the 'wife' in the term only meant that her master got the use of her body, along with everything else. Renna drew a shuddering breath, and then another, breathing slowly so she might force herself to calm down. He was angry with her, and perhaps justifiably so; but he was not going to hurt her. No more than a few bruises, at least. Nothing compared to what Gergori or Hibai had been prepared to do.

For a moment there was silence, other than the wind in the grass and the slow shudder of the interloper's breath. When Renna finally spoke she was still on her knees, with her head bent to the earth, and in a voice so soft it was barely audible. ".....You're right." It seemed a good place to start, and she was a little ashamed. "I'm sorry." Another silence, during which she could feel the place on her arm with the rope tied around it beginning to chafe. There would be bruises, later. "But you misunderstood my meaning."

She still made no attempt to stand, but did tilt her head back to at least look in the warrior's general direction. "I did not intend to complain about Izotz, or insult the Zerui, or imply that I would be better off dead." Renna lowered her head again. "Although Thiasan women are raised to believe that it IS better to die than to let a man....." She couldn't say it, not to him. He wouldn't understand, and she did not want him knowing more of her private life than he did already. Not that there was any point. He knew she was murroi-emazte; and the entire world knew the little humiliating details of how she had been taken and violated. There was no mistaking it.

Hot tears burned behind her eyelids, but she made herself continue. "...We also believe that life is a gift, and one to be valued. That's why I did not ever...I simply meant...."

Renna took another deep breath, and forced a calm response. "I cannot imagine surviving this without belonging to someone like Izotz." She found that she could meet his eyes again, and did so. "He is a good, gentle man, and I love him for that. I have been very blessed to know him at all. I'm sorry for complaining."

She hugged herself once, and then fell silent. Renna did not bother to finish her explanation, nor did she add that he was wrong about the Zerui not killing each other. Hibai had throttled his own daughter for the suspicion that the mother had borne her to another man. Gergori had tried to murder Izotz when he came to her rescue. But there was no point in shaming her husband for the sake of an argument, and she would not do so though it painted her in the worst light possible. "But you're right. I don't know where I belong."

The weaver was tempted to scream. How could she possibly know where she belonged? She was doing everything in her power to fit with Izotz and his people, but then someone like Erramun came along and made it quite clear that she was unwanted in that circle. "I love my husband, here; and my family in Thiasa. The two loves are equal. Yet I have no place here because I am a white woman who shares a Baskari man's bed, and I will have no place there for the same reason."

Renna rose, then, and gave him a humorless smile. "There is no belonging for an interloper whore who loves the Baskari. Eguzki has blessed me richly, but I think He never wanted to give me a place."

She slipped her hand out of the bracelet binding her to him, and watched it fall to the ground , shaking her curls over her eyes. "If....If I could belong anywhere, I promise I would. I try."

That was all she said. Renna stood there meek and silent, not even bothering to look up and watch him. He could beat her if he wanted; she was past the point of caring and perhaps physical pain would do something to soothe the hurt that was weighing down her heart.

In his rage Erramun hadn’t really bothered to see what Renna was doing. He knew only she had not fought him, wisely backing off even if it meant suffering the resulting bruises. When she stiffened, he barely noticed and when she crumbled onto the ground, he ignored her.
He would never know what it felt like to be a woman raped. He knew only what it felt like to risk one’s own life to protect those of others. Each time the Thiasans attempted to take more from the Baraski, it was the men who fought back to save their wives and children and land and horses. It was the men who fell, who were butchered, who were sliced opened and bled to death. To die in battle was of great honor but to die not appreciating the life given was shameful. Concubine or not, she had been given life.

Not until Renna’s quiet agreement did Erramun bring his steady dark gaze back upon her form once more. He met her glance when she lifted her sight to his and for once actually listened as if she were important enough to hear. It was a significant first step for a man with his level of intolerance. He refrained from speaking until she was done, another sign of respect albeit reluctantly given. This time it wasn’t that he had no words to say. It was that he waited until she was finished before saying them.

“Izotz is a... good man,” he said quietly as he untied the end of the rope from his arm. A good man yet by her own terms, he was a bad man for claiming her body. Erramun wasn’t aware of Gergori or Hibai and their murderous ways. He was a common tribesman who was often called for help during battles or large gathered hunts. He had been instilled with Tribal loyalty and so the idea of killing another Zerui over a pale face or suspicion was rather foreign.
In a rare moment of openness with an interloper, Erramun admitted, “I do not know what it is like to have two loves.”

He thought about what she had said, about what it would feel like not knowing whose people you belonged with. He found he couldn’t imagine it. He would always belong to the Zerui Tribe. Catching her wrist, this time loosely, Erramun said quietly, “You are wrong about Eguzki. Perhaps He has left the decision to you.” The warrior knew life wasn’t easy. It wasn’t meant to be. One must work hard in order to live. “Eguzki’s plans are known only to Him. No one ever said they would be easy to carry out,” Erramun finished as he released her, stepping away just a little now.

His vision cleared as he whistled for Hodei, watching with a half smile of satisfaction as the flashy gelding came to him. He lurched his body over the horse, settling easily into the saddle-less seat. With a nod, he watched Renna as vigilant as before. She would have to ride behind him and hold on if she didn’t want to fall off. Hesitating only a moment, Erramun decided her show of submission was genuine and so he extended his hand to her, offering aid to pull her up onto Hodei as well. “Come and let Hodei show you what freedom feels like,” he commanded gently.

The lass just barely restrained a flinch when he took her wrist again, but restrain it she did. Unfortunately it might have been obvious that she was still stiff as a dead woman in his arms, but no one could have accused her of being inattentive. Renna stayed perfectly motionless through his lecture, and remained so even when he had left and leapt onto Hodei. Pale lips moved soundlessly in imitation of his words, and then she finally turned to him with a look of quiet admiration. Here, at last, was a confidant. Izotz did not understand religious matters; not quite like this, and it was unfair to unburden herself on him when he was still working on forgiving himself of the crimes he had committed against her. Zeru was kind but had far more important things to worry about than the confusion of a child, and Oihana was preoccupied with her new son and husband and still the lost daughter. There was no one else to speak to; no one to use as a support when her own convictions began to gave way to despair.

And here, at last, was someone to trust.

It was odd. He hated her completely, but at every moment those black eyes looked into hers Renna had the distinct impression that she could trust him with her life. She was an enemy, but judged to be a harmless one-and until she was proving guilty, he would treat her with honor.

Renna looked at the proffered hand, wondered a moment if it was unfaithful to ride with someone who was not one's husband, then looked at Hodei and yearned so achingly for the feel of the thing called 'freedom' that her hand reached forward of its own vocation. She mounted behind him and tightened her arms around his torso, leaning forward enough to whisper in his ear. "Thank you."

She wished she could say how badly she had needed the encouragement; some kind of reminder of her own faith that she was clinging onto as best as she could. And here it was, unexpected and from the lips of someone who believed in a different God-but completely true nonetheless. Renna gripped Hodei with her knees and waited to be off on the wind, but like the woman she was she could not resist offering at least a little more of her soul to this Miracle Warrior. "I believed that, once, but with no one to remind me I began to think I was crazy. Thank you so very much."

She smiled, but then the expression turned to one of yearning. "But is there a way to know Eguzki's wish? I have been asking and asking but I still just don't....I want to please Him, truly I do; I want to choose what is best in His mind. Until now I did not know and that was fine. I didn't have to choose. But, but..."

Renna looked at him with all the solemnity of a woman walking to her grave. "Please, do not repeat this anywhere. I tell you what no one should know because you are wise, and have a greater and more solid understanding of the Creator than I do. It is only my little soul, but it matters very much to me and I would appreciate it if you kept this in your heart only." She lowered her eyes. "A choice approaches. I have been permitted to dance the Sundance, if I wish....become Zerui; become Izotz's wife. But I want to know if that choice will only destroy that which I have come to love. I want to know if it is right. Sir, is there a way to know?"

It was Erramun’s turn to slightly stiffen as Renna settled in behind him. Not since his wife died had the Zerui warrior been as close to one of the female gender. It was a subtle response yet distinctly disturbing to know a pale face could cause him such reaction. He recovered quickly though since it was near impossible to remain seated bareback otherwise. At once his thighs clasped loosely around Hodei’s torso, his muscles relaxing to become tuned to the paint gelding’s movement as they eased into a trot.
Erramun appreciated the words Renna spoke. Though he had at first thought she would attempt physical escape, he now surmised she ran more from her lack of faith than any specific man. He smiled when she complimented him though whether or not she could actually see the expression was unknown. Erramun had never thought himself a wise individual. Loyal and steadfast, yes. He lived each day with the unwavering knowledge Eguzki shined his blessings down onto His people. How did one explain that deep-rooted part of your soul? Even when Gaztain had finally breathed her last, Erramun prayed his gratitude for their brief time together. He had not once questioned Eguzki’s plan or placed blame onto the God for his resulting loneliness and heartache. Life wasn’t meant to be easy. Little Alais grew without a mother. It was a humbling reality for Erramun. He wasn’t sure he knew how to accurately convey that spiritual security to an interloper.
“Perhaps,” he answered her, “you think too much.” It was a simple reply said with a touch of humor. He didn’t know if she’d understand the real meaning behind it. He considered questioning Eguzki as dishonoring Him. There was nothing funny about that so his mouth settled into a thin line of contemplation.
He directed the horse to stop fully as Renna spoke of the Sundance. When she admitted the possibility of her incorporation into da’Zeru, he turned to glance at her. At their close proximity she seemed more human than enemy even as he was made more aware of their differences. It was confusing and yet the news she told him hadn’t brought the anger he expected. “It is a great honor,” he said solemnly, “to become Zerui. Izotz must return your love greatly to allow this.” Erramun wondered if she realized the risk her captor took. Izotz would become responsible for her. It was a strong testament to the strength of her value. Erramun respected that, no matter what the color of her skin happened to be.
Perhaps he had misjudged the Thiasan woman. The thought brought a quirk of his brows but he refrained from voicing such speculation. She still represented the white men to him and would until she became Zerui. After that, he wasn’t certain how he would feel. Her blood would always be tainted for how could she still the flow of her ancestors? She had already admitted she felt torn between their two worlds. “Two loves” as she had called it.
“Your confidence is safe,” he replied as Hodei began walking again. “And there is no such thing as a little soul if it is owned by Eguzki.” The easygoing pace made conversation possible. “My youngest sibling, Itxaro, will be announced as adult during the ceremony. She can then find a husband and fulfill her role.” It was that easy to him.

After several moments passed, Erramun asked a quipped “Ready now?” and set the horse into fluid motion. Long strides galloped across the countryside. “Eguzki music!” Erramun grinned as he shouted, letting out a loud “Whooop!” in exhilaration as they covered acres of terrain. Hodei raced through the grasses, obviously enjoying the sprint as much as his riders. It was as if the wind competed, sending puffs of pollen in sudden bursts around the trio as they ran. Tendrils of mane whipped the warrior’s chest as he gave and received the freedom of which he had spoke.
The thud of hooves stretched into the beat of drums. The current blended into the melodious tune of the flute. The warmth of the sun cast down words to a song and only the clear blue skies were the limit to this flight.

When the music stopped and Hodei stood inhaling and exhaling deeply, Erramun leapt from his back, landing expertly onto his two feet. He almost hugged the beast with admiration, smoothing his hands along the horse’s solid neck in reassuring strokes. Reaching for Renna, Erramun easily pulled her down to stand next to him. He was careful with her now, the thrill of their shared taste of freedom lending him a softer side.
“That,” he told her happily, “is what Eguzki brings. You just need to silence your doubts and put your trust into Him. When you are ready, really ready, to listen to what He is trying to tell you, then all of your questions will already be answered.” That was faith. Erramun finally smiled at her without reserve. Renna was a fine woman despite her inner turmoil. He was beginning to understand why Izotz cared for her so.

In all of his joy and reflection, the Zerui man failed to hear the sharp, ominous growl emanating from the nearby panther, crouched half hidden just several paces away. He missed the great cat altogether when they had stopped here, and now the sound reached his ears as if far away and slow to register. Hodei, however, had known instantly the danger. The gelding reared just as the great cat sprang forward. She was beyond irritated these humans had so abruptly invaded her territory. She had kittens to protect and they were considered a threat. Too late, Erramun knew his bow was of no use. He didn’t have the time to reach for an arrow. Too late he realized the cat had leapt towards Renna's direction and his arms instinctively reached out to shove her from the feline’s path.

Renna clung to Erramun's waist, so delighted in his kind words and the beauty of "Eguzki music" that the ache for home noticeably diminished. She had a good family at home, yes; and she loved them dearly, and that would never change-but because of one good man, she was able to see the good around her once again. The girl had managed it quite well for a month or two, but ever since Gergori's attack on her had found it almost impossibly difficult to continue. But she let Hodei carry them both, and smiled up at the sky, and despite her very best efforts a hot tear or two fell onto Erramun's back. Gratitude for her was a strong emotion, every bit as potent as fear or anger or love, and when they had slowed she thanked him with a silently pressed hand and a look that said more than words could ever have managed.

She was just about to ask him to pray with her when Hodei launched up into a terrified rear. There was no time to think; no time even to see what was happening-no reality but Erramun's hands, shoving her roughly and firmly out of the way.

The girl fell with with a quiet cry, and then whirled to see the great cat that had eluded them both. Both hands flew to her mouth as words strangled in her throat, but only a second later and she had launched herself forward. Renna ripped the knife out of her belt and flung it towards her rescuer, then stooped to find any stone of any size that might be available. Years of thwarting hungry crows in the garden had done wonders for her arm, and it was with dead accuracy that she started pelting anything she could find at the attacking carnivore. In her panic the moment's prayer was spoken aloud, and in Scalian, and to utterly the wrong God. "LordgiveusstrengthifitisThywillhe'sagoodmanifnotpleasetakeoursoulstothykeepinginChrist'snameAMEN!"

Her 'amen' was punctuated by a final stone, thrown right into the beast's side.