Naruk laughed out loud at his wife's smart comment. Yakone grunted.

"I didn't come here to joke, Naruk. What of my offer?"

"Your offer?" Naruk raised an eyebrow, "Tuma you aren't a merchant, you're not even a trader. Why do you want passage to Republic City?"

Yakone sighed. He was sitting in an open sailors paddock in town, the main square bustling with people in the morning rush, making it quite easy for children to be lost or separated from their respective guardian. He gazed across quickly, a small feeling of relief meeting his senses when he saw Tarrlok and Noatak across the road, rolling hoops with a stick.

"It's not for me," Yakone said, turning back to the task at hand, "It's for my wife, Sura. She makes the finest clothing for miles, she knows people in the department there, she wants to sell some of her work."

Naruk nodded, "I can respect that, but what do I get out of it?"

"I told you, that's up to Sura."

Naruk scoffed, "Leaving the important things to the woman huh? I'm not taking no woman's words, I need yours."

Yakone grit his teeth, trying to control his anger before turning to face him, glaring at the sailor as if he were the world's problem instead of just his, "Fine, name your price and I'll run it by the wife."

Naruk rolled his tongue around in his mouth, considering the proposition and attempting to think of a wealthy yet non ridiculous price. He looked out onto the street, as if it held the answers. And it did, and a grin spread over his face, revealing a long line of rotting, yellow teeth.

Naruk looked back at Yakone, "How old is that boy of yours, the older one?"

Yakone stepped forward, invading Naruk's personal space, "My son is not a bargaining chip."

"How old?"

Yakone grit his teeth again, relishing in the thought of punching Naruk in his rotted mouth. Through is teeth, he said, "Noatak is ten."

Naruk only grinned wider, "Old enough to work on a boat over seas, aye?"

Yakone grabbed the front of Naruk's parka, ""Listen you little-!"

"Dad!" Tarrlok came running into the paddock, looking frantic. Yakone whipped around, angry that his son was interrupting his business, but he stopped when he saw Tarrlok's face. A thick red line ran from the top of his son's left brow all the way back to his temple, surrounded by forming bruises. Blood leaked from the wound, dribbling down his cheek and making a red stain the size of a fist on his parka. It was fresh.

Yakone bent down and touched his son's forehead, making him wince, "What happened?"

"Dad!" Tarrlok grabbed his sleeve and began to pull him into the street, "C'mon we gotta hurry! He's gonna kill him!"

"What? Who?"

"Noatak!"

Tarrlok pulled Yakone into the road and pointed forward. In the middle of the street was a very large crowd, all cheering and hooting and whistling.

"Stay here, and don't touch that." Yakone ordered. He entered the crowd, elbowing and pushing his way forward until he stood at the front, able to see the cause of all the commotion. There, in the middle of the ring of people, was Noatak. He was straddling another boy, beating him in the face and chest with his fists while shouting a vast assortment of obscene profanity.

"Damn, rotten assed, motherfucking, shit eating, piss mouthed quim!" Those were only a few phrases that Yakone could pick out over the noise of the crowd. This had to stop, Noatak wasn't letting up, he was going to kill that boy, for reasons still unknown, but Yakone was sure it had something to do with Tarrlok's head.

Yakone rushed into the middle, wrapping two arms around Noatak's waist and lifting, but Noatak had a death grip on the boy, and lifting him meant dragging the boy with him as well, which the crowd found hilarious. He pried Noatak's fingers away from the boy's shirt, raising him high in the air.

"Get the hell off me! I'm gonna fucking kill the bastard!" Noatak yelled, flailing his arms and kicking the air, trying to twist out of his grasp. Yakone tightened his grip around his son's middle as best he could without getting hit in the face. The boy, who had been the victim and supposed stem of his sons rage, scrambled back. His nose was bleeding badly, the blood running all over him, his lip was split, and the rest of his face was puffy with what Yakone knew would be bruises come tomorrow. The boy jumped to his feet and ran through the crowd, sobbing with his hand pressed to his nose.

Yakone turned through the crowd as well, still holding onto Noatak. Grabbing Tarrlok's hand, he pulled them down a deserted street and set Noatak down, but kept a firm hand on his shoulder.

"What happened?" He demanded. Noatak turned his head away. His nose was bloody. Yakone handed him a hanker chief and turned to Tarrlok, speaking in a softer tone, "What happened?"

"We were playing hoops," He said, covering his cut with his palm, "Then Quinto showed up and wanted my set, but when I told him no he took the stick and hit me with it."

Yakone nodded, "Okay. Stay here for a minute, I'll be right back."

Yakone stood and left the street, making his way back to the open paddock. Naruk raised his eyebrows and grinned crookedly as he approached. Yakone scowled, not in the mood to deal with the sailor's crooked games.

"I need your answer." He said, crossing his arms.

Naruk bobbed his head and looked down at the fish net he was holding, "Every shipment of yours I make, one of your kin comes with me, preferably the older boy, he'll be of more use."

"I told my son is not a bargaining chip."

"He's not being used as one; I'm doing you a favor. Teach the boy how to sail, put some hair on his chest."

"He's ten."

"Can never start too early." Yakone sighed.

"Alright," He said, "I'll ask him, and run it by the wife. I'll bring you my answer by the end of the week."

Naruk nodded, dropping the fish net onto the short camping table in front of him, "That'll do, Tuma. Be on your way, and put some ice on the little ones head, that shit's gonna bruise bad and hurt like hell, he might wanna be numb."

"Fine." Yakone waved, and turned around and left. Retrieving his sons from the street, he began to walk home. They didn't live too far from the village, but it was a fair walk. Noatak had given the hanker chief to Tarrlok, and the boy had it pressed to his forehead. Yakone took the old sailors advice and made him press a handful of snow to it. Sura was going to freak.

He was right, to some degree. The minute Tarrlok removed his hand from his head she had set a pot of poppy tea on and began to clean and bandage his forehead. Noatak had been silent for the entire journey, only speaking when they entered the house and he removed his parka.

"I'll wait out back."

Sura handed him the sealskin lash with a grim face. He accepted it with a mutual expression and went outside. When Noatak saw him coming, he straightened. Turning to face the side of the house, he spread his feet shoulder width apart, and braced himself on the wall with his hands. Yakone stepped up to the left of him. Noatak nodded, telling him he was ready.

The lash made a popping sound when it met Noatak's lower back, colliding with his clothing harshly. Noatak did not jump, too practiced with the exercise to do so, but Yakone saw his jaw tighten. He brought the lash back down on his lower back. He jumped that time, his shoulders shooting up to his ears, his face contorted in pain. Two was enough. Yakone lowered the lash and put a hand on his shoulder. He removed his hands from the wall, and he led him inside.

Sura took the lash from his grip and shoved a cup of poppy tea into Noatak's hands. Noatak took his cup over to the table, where Tarrlok sat with his own drink, a white bandage on his face.

Sura turned to the table, "Boys, finish your tea and lay down, your father and I need some time to talk."

They both drained their cups and headed into their bedroom, closing the door. Sura dropped the lash onto the counter and looked at him.

"Tarrlok told me what happened. Did he do it right?" She asked. I frowned.

"Did who do what right?"

"Noatak, did he beat the kid proper?" I chuckled.

"That's your concern? I think you should be more worried with what he said."

Sura laughed, "Tarrlok said that he used some profanity."

"Care if I recite?" Yakone asked sweetly, slipping off his boots and parka.

"Oh darling be careful," Sura said huskily, slipping her hands around his waist, resting her chin parallel to his chest and looking up at him, "I might like you talking dirty."

"You gonna wash my mouth out?"

"Depends what you mean."

"Well then," Yakone said, picking her up, "Please allow to brush up on my bad words.

Sura giggled as I carried her to the bedroom.