P.O.V.

by SpunSilk

Part one: Stranger

He appeared one after-high-sun without warning.

This is my story, and now-I-will-tell-it.

I was preparing food when I heard the crowd approaching, with the warriors at the lead, singing out their arrival and their pride in the prisoner they had captured. Oxmelsa was grinding Borbuk'ka seeds into medicine, as is his duty, and he heard the tumult too. My Shaman rose to investigate. I followed him out the door of the hut, head bowed and attentive, as is my duty.

The sight of him was shocking. His face and hands were as pale as gamb'ka fruit's flesh, and he had sharp eyes and hair that was... well... pale also, but not really so much pale as red. He wore the finest of cloth, over unnaturally most all his body, and on his head was a basket headdress made of finely worked fibers. Even his feet were covered with white hide. As you hear me tell the story, you will laugh and insist such a man could not exist! Yet there he stood; held under spear-point, watching Oxmelsa with those sharp eyes as the warriors told their story of his capture. I cowered behind Oxmelsa and kept my eyes low.

Netan'akte was bragging, as is his way. "–but I tested him with my spear-point; and he bled," he told with over-stuffed voice, addressing the crowd as much as addressing my husband, "So by this, I deemed him to not be the danger-enemy returned. I deemed him safe to bring to the People, and I present him now into your hands, Wise-One," he ended. "This is my story, and now-it-is-told."

All his bragging got him nothing, as my Shaman was not hearing his words. He was staring at this stranger with wide-eyes. I was afraid. Afraid of how this man looked (whether he bled or not) because he was wondrous-strange. The stranger held my husband's gaze without shying from it (an act which by itself showed great authority) and waited till Netan'akte was done with his bragging. The stranger then spoke, but when he did, he did not use real-words.

Oxmelsa spoke in words, though. He cried out "Kolch'ak-who-is-bound-to-me!" and all the People were amazed. I shrank in astonishment. Bound? To this stranger?Name-bound?

My shaman staggered forward and greeted him, then raised his injured hand to examine it. "Wife! A healing slurry!" he called, and I flew. My mind was a-jumble as I ripped the leaves from their roots behind the hut in my garden and hurried to grind them on my stone. This must be… must be… he from the colors! I thought in amazement – as my husband had told me of his encounter late one night during the enemy-hunting. I am co-bound to a man from the smoke-trance! And he has left the words of my husband's story and stands here in the city!

My hands were shaking so badly I feared I would drop the healing mass as I bound his hand with a new cloth. His blood was right-red and his hand was warm, and this calmed me, but I did not dare glance at his unnatural bright face, instead I busied myself with the healing.

Oxmelsa was addressing the crowd. "–which we fought and defeated (songs-be-sung-of-our-victory). But we would have grasped no victory without his good-council. Remember how strange? Guidance-council no-man could have guessed. I declare this: this stranger is why the People survived to tell the story!"

A great quiet came across the crowd. I glanced side-ways at Netan'akte, who was pale-beyond-unhealthy at this telling. He had drawn a hero's blood! All the hero needed was to say it so, and demand revenge, ten-times-ten. I smiled secretly to see how this would play-out.

But the stranger was merciful, and did not call the Blood-for-Blood. He said things to my Shaman, but it was garbled and held no meaning. "He uses the outsider-words," said Bemeroc. The stranger motioned and insisted, but no-man understood him.

My husband pondered the problem and quoted, "One head cannot hold up the roof. We will have many-council." Oxmelsa began to issue directions; call the gathering of elders, bring Quelat'chi the portuguese-speaker, prepare a feast of welcoming that we would celebrate this very day. The crowd flew apart with excitement and purpose, and the council began gathering at the Circle inside.

I hurried to the store-house in the center-square for mek'tahksh'a leaves for the refreshment of the council. "Can it be true?" whispered my friend Watahn'ish, as she handed me what I required. "I have heard there is a stranger arrived who is name-bound to your husband! Tell me this is wild rumor!"

"It is true. He is the hero from whom my Shaman received council – within the Smoke-and-Colors!"

"And he walks our world?!" she squeaked. I nodded. "Not made of smoke-and-colors?"

I shook my head. "I have tended his wound myself. He is flesh."

"What will you do?" she whispered with wide eyes.

"My duty," I answered simply. " –as is correct." But I spoke it with more confidence that I felt.

When I returned, the council was already in discussion. These are topics for men-folk; magic and mysteries. But I was preparing the refreshment and could not be blamed for my hearing what was said. Or what was not said, as it happened. There was no talking with this hero-man. Even our speaker, Quelat'chi, said the words from his mouth held no meaning. The elders were unquiet-in-spirit, to wonder what manner of visit this may be.

The stranger valued an odd bundle that he carried in a carry-bag; a bundle of leaves bound together, and these delicately patterned, also pale (like so much of what he possessed), no bigger than a man's out-stretched fingers. He had pressed it for some reason into the hands of our speaker, but whatever magic it possessed was lost on Quelat'chi. The elders now examined this, with wonder and worry.

Oxmelsa came to me, and led me to the side, as the circle puzzled on this bundle. "You understand your part in this." he stated.

"I do."

"Here is great-opportunity for you to strengthen your husband. Are you frightened?"

My breath caught in my chest. Speaking of my fear made it larger in my mind, and brought my fear close enough to touch."Yes." I answered finally, truthfully.

"I know you will not fail me."

Then spoke the dutiful wife, "I will strengthen the bond between you. May it be as is correct; I will be an additional link between the two of you. May your wife seal for you a strong ally in him."