Their footsteps were dangerously close. My natural instincts kicked in immediately.

I ran through the heavy coat of snow beneath my feet as fast as they would take me. Battling frantically against the blustering wind, I listened intently to their voices (despite the blood pounding in my ears).

"Stop! I only wish to talk!"

Keep running, Ziio. You have nearly lost them.
What is they mean no harm?
They don't. They just want to slaughter me and all my people.
No. They freed you.
Get away from them!
Stop!
Keep running.
Stop.
Keep running!
STOP!

"Please! Stop!" the man shouted breathlessly.

I hugged my fur garment around my body more tightly and stumbled my way through the blizzard. The Englishman shuffled ever-closer towards me.

STOP! HE JUST WISHES TO SPEAK!
He will use me.
He FREED you!
I have run out of trust for the English.

But then, something strange happened to me. My mind was paralysed. I remembered who he was. The way he had promised softly that I would be safe. The way he had attempted to calm me. The way his eyes somehow glinted with truth.

Why on earth was I running from him? There was something special about that look in his eyes that I remembered. I had no clue what it was. All I know is that it caused my footsteps to cease. I skidded and paused.

My abrupt halt caused my balance to cease. I slipped backwards and landed on the ground, sinking into the bone-chilling snow. My body immediately fell into shivers. My bosom heaved as I began to catch shuddery breaths.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Oh, good God. He's coming!

Rapidly, I lifted myself off the ground in embarrassment. Luckily, he hadn't seen. I knelt in the snow, pulling myself together.

Why on earth did you stop, Ziio?
Because...
He will do you no favours.
It'll be fine. I'll just act firm.

He had at last caught up with me, panting like a wolf and his hat askew. He staggered towards me.

"Are you touched in the head?!" I demanded.

He took deep gasps for air between words. "Me. Haytham. I come. In. Peace."

Why do they all think that we're simpletons? I can speak English, for goodness' sake.

"Why. Are. You. Speaking. So. Slow?" I mimicked, already regretting my decision to stop the chase.

"Oh, sorry." Haytham looked helpless even as he stood up taller, straightening his blue cloak and adjusting his hat.

"What do you want?" I inquired coldly.

"Well, your name, for one."

What? He came all this way just for my name?

I suppressed a smile with difficulty. "I'm Kaniehtí:io."

"Pleased to meet you, god-z-zi-"

My feelings were now confused. I found this somewhat amusing, yet my expression remained stiff as a plank. "Just call me Ziio."

"Diio?"

"Ziio."

A patronisingly awkward silence rang out. Nothing crossed our ears but the howling wind and the distant sounds of the forest behind us.

"Now, tell me why it is that you're here."

The tension was broken. Haytham pulled something round, which resembled a turquoise stone on a string from his cloak. I squinted to look at it properly. That was when recognition hit me: the patterns seemed very familiar.

Snatching it from his leather glove, I asked (slightly stunned): "Where did you get this?"

"From an old friend," he shrugged simply.

My eyes feasted on its lines down the centre of it. They resembled a slash from a wolf's claws, emblazoned in a vivd orange. "I have only seen such markings in one other place."

Boy, did I know where it came from. The cave inside a hidden mountain I discovered as a small child. Of course, the whole village knew about it too; it was there for a reason; but no. I was arrogant enough to believe that I and I alone had discovered its whereabouts. In front of it stood a door with a brightly-coloured picture of the Sacred Story. I would sit there for hours on end, before my anxious mother would come to fetch me. I hadn't been there since I was a child.

"Where?" Haytham asked, tearing me away from memory lane.

"It's forbidden for me to speak of it." For the first time, my tone of voice indicated that I'd started to open up. I sounded apologetic.

Now it was his turn to be wary. "I saved your people. Does this mean nothing to you?" he snapped.

Hang on, hang on. He is right.
He's English. Why should I trust him?
You stopped. You listened.
It means nothing.
Tell him.
Do not.
Do it!
No.

He sighed and put his hands up, as if surrendering to me. "Look, I am not the enemy."

At that moment, he looked up into my eyes. The side of my head which wanted to run away from him dissolved in a heartbeat. As he surveyed my face, desperate for some sort of reaction, I came to a decision.

"Near to here there is a hill. Meet me there, and we'll see if you speak the truth." With that, I turned around and started to walk away. I couldn't bear the wrath to look into his eyes any longer. Oh, the humiliation.