Yoka startled awake to a strange feeling. Half of her body felt irritatingly numb, as if it had been eternities crammed in somewhere, and forced to stay immovable. Some strange smell was constantly in her nostrils, and the bedstead did not feel familiar under her flank. And as she opened her cry-sticky eyes, an interjection of panic was to flee her lips. The freaky Proud Crescent was almost crushing her against his huge chest, squeezing her with a firm grip of a sleeper. Having at least two times wider shoulders than the girl, Buzz was not the most feeble person in Kaleva. Her head was burrowed somewhere under his chin, and the breath of his unbrushed teeth hovered around her nose.

"Yrf!" she pouted, starting to wriggle away from that clinch. And as if a thunderbolt had struck her, the memories of yesterday night flashed in front of her vision.  The yells, the humiliation, the crying… and then… the apologies… the kisses, the caresses. Was there any reason in that whole whirligig? Carefully loosing Buzz' wide arms from around her, she slinked up and laid a squint around the room. Her own bed was tidily made, like no one had at all couched in it. A drastic shiver went down her back, as she shifted her regard back to the snoring man. He had carried her to lie beside him in the middle of the night? Why? Why on earth? Yoka felt very odd, and additionally fearful. Was that… some kind of effort to comfort her? Her image of him this far was that he deeply detested her. But… why this, now? At first he had brawled, offended her like an insane, broken her things, and then… Why had he gripped her like that yesterday, and instead of hitting, instead of a cuff had… kissed her? If she was meant to be a house slave, or lower than a dog, why would her owner suddenly act like that?

The cold trembles of fright and abashment did not cease. She wanted to run, run away, throw the heavy burden of grief off from her shoulders. And… what if he would suddenly wake up? What would she say to him? What would he… do to her? Yoka cringed to the horror of her own thoughts. What if the monster would come back, only fatter this time? Tumefying with evilness, ready to strangle her?

However, more strange things Yoka-hanen perceived as her languid eyes caught the rest of the teepee. Where was the mess-up he had thrown about around the floor? What she blearily recalled, the room had resembled a compost heap. Had that… had that odd man spontaneously taken a broom, and taken care of his litter? No other logical explanation was there, since she was not a sleepwalker. In addition, as she laid her eyes on the table in one corner, there was no doubt of any more who had played a butler. Lacing her fingers through the necklaces, a small titter escaped from her lips. He had 'repaired' her tinsel? Or could that be called a repair? So clumsily they were lumped, that maybe a five-year-old might have succeeded better.

Nevertheless, the fright did not quite abate. Proud Crescent was indeed the most uncanny man she had ever known. How to take this all…? It really did not make any sense. His behavior had no sense. What would follow was a black mystery. The return to the same psychological Hades, or something else?

Out there, the scent of humidity was in the air. A veil of white fog floated above the meadows, and the woodland back there almost steamed. A low pressure spread from the South, possibly bringing watery clouds along. But Yoka missed now the resin fragrance of the forest, the cool wind, and the freedom she had once felt while strolling alone in the wilderness. If she could at lest once run free, empty her heart from the desperation… But, although the girl would have endeavored to unburden her soul, it was quite not that easy. Moreover, she would need solitariness to recollect her world. Yesterday night had passed her a big basket of unsolved riddles, unanswered questions. Maybe in the caress of the woods, she would find the reason to this all. Maybe… maybe not.

Sneaking to change her clothes, she was ready in a few minutes. Something warm was needed, although the frost would possibly die away. In her leather knapsack she collected the remains of yesterday's supper. The breakfast could be enjoyed under the conifers. Rapidly, as a common habit, Yoka also lit the fire in the teepee, and gathered some nosh for Buzz onto a plate. After his yesterday's outburst of anger, the Kalevan could not be sure about anything any more. She had expected him to hit her, and thus was careful not to leave without making proper morning arrangements. However, when the swift labor was done, she would go. Her bow and quiver were soon set to their place on her back. So she whisked out, and left Buzz to hug his empty arms.

"Ynnhhhyyyynnnn…" Lightyear squirmed and whined in his sleep. Fuliginously squinting his eyes, he noticed that light was fluttering in trough the flue. Buzz lay on his back for a few minutes, in his delirious state not comprehending at all where he was. It was daytime… somewhere… he was not at home. Not on Capital Planet. And something was missing. His right hand fumbled the mattress on his side. Empty. What was there supposed to be…

"YOKA!" he abruptly squealed, his eyes turning wide. A drastic angina seized his chest. Last night. It was real, was it not? Every even minuscule memento fragment returned, giving a hysteric shiver down his spine.

"Yoka? Yoka! Where are you?" he panted, rising up every single pelt and blanket. Empty, empty, it was all empty. "Where are you? Yoka?" tears blurred his gaze, as the panic took the hegemony. Shame, guilt, anxiety, his feelings had entirely made mush out of his puny brains. "P-please don't leave me…"

Putting his suede shirt and jacket inside out on, forgetting to tie the bands of his moccasins, Buzz stumbled out. There, in the blear daylight, the ground had turned slushy. Brown mud fought with the pure, innocent snow, whereas the sun shuddered somewhere behind a heavy cloud mass. Wavering it tried to illuminate the ground, looking wet and miserable. It had reached already the zenith, so possibly the day was teetering towards afternoon already. He did not know. Time had died. Only he and his angst existed, everything else was blurry nullity. And only one destination there was, to find Yoka-hanen. He had to find her. Through the swirling sentiments he believed that she had run away, fled his atrociousness. Not paying attention at all to the fire and breakfast, he had head over heels dashed to search for her. Oh, how much he wanted to apologize again, show her how sorry he was after all this harshness.

The faiths about the conspiracy and evil shadows attacking Capital Planet had flown away. Last night, a whole new intuition had crawled in his conscious. The ranger instinct he had kept as his steering wheel, was not fully authentic. It had failed him, fooled him. Evidently the lurking evilness had used it as its devious weapon. Oh, if he only had at the first place started to listen to the reason. Mira, Zarah, they had been so right about everything. And towards them he led his steps. What if Yoka was in Nova's teepee? Or maybe the Princess had seen her.

With terrible bluster Lightyear clambered -without knocking- in the Tangean's temporal hut. Both Mrs. Darkmatter and she were enjoying their lunch, dropping their jaws on the floor at the sight of the nonsensical captain. He slurred something like a drunken, looking absolutely hideous. His sweaty hair had glued on his forehead, his feverish eyes framed with black coronas. The crabbed emotions shone their every millimeter through his face.

"BUZZ?" the both women interjected.

"Haveyouseenher? Whereisshe? Isshehere?" he palpitated, starting insanely to turn over pots and tapestries.

Mira rose up to stop his madness. The teepee would look like a bedlam in few minutes, if he would not stop his hurricane. Grabbing hard his arm, she drew him away from XR's corner. Obviously Lightyear would have trashed even the robot in order to check out that the missing girl was not huddling inside it.

"Buzz! STOP IT NOW!" she snapped, "What are you doing here? Craters, you're crazier than as Zurg's pawn!"

The man stopped. Breathing burdensomely he was left to stare at Nova with the reeling, glazed gawp. She had called him crazy. Crazier than as Zurg's pawn… yes, he admitted it now. He was crazy. And would need to gather himself up. "S---sorry…" he gave a pip. "I… I'm sorry… s-sorry a-about e-ever-ything I've… umh…" The last syllables turned to some pathetic fizz. And so did the Princess gape at him even more confused.

"Buzz? What's going on?"

"I… I d-don't know…" he monotonically lisped.

"Now would you at least explain WHY are you running in here, starting to throw things with no reason? Are you searching for something?"

"I--- I… I'm l-looking for h-her…"

"Who?" she tilted her head. Now there was no giddy sense even here.

"Y-yok-k-k-kkkkk…." The sole name turned to cough.

"You're looking for Yoka?" Mira's goggle turned piercing. "Why, may I ask? I thought you hated her. You have done something very nasty to her, haven't you? I can see that from your face." Taking a tap towards the beaten man, her statements were as sharp as the lances of his conscience. "Last night after Vainamoinen's speech, you did something to her, didn't you? And obviously she ran away, what? If you come to ask me, I haven't seen her since yesterday. And now, back to the topic. Why are you looking for her?"

Lightyear's knees doddered. With flopped shoulders, he almost cringed under the Tangean's austere gazing. She made his inners ache more than his voice of righteousness. Oh, if he could have found a deep wormhole where to hide! A wretched earthworm was he also; that would be just an appropriate place for him. But his throat could yet form a high-pitched squeak, so that Nova received an answer. "I… I just w-want t-to a-a-aaa-a-a-polo-po-po-polo-polo-pologize… h-her… I d-did-dididididlll…"

She heaved a deep sigh. The commanding officer was really out of his mind. However, something positive there was in the air. He was evidently regretting his doings, whatever he then had caused. Mira could only show him the flap door. Yoka-hanen was not here, why would he not go and ask the villagers? Buzz should have learned that much Sivakka during this time, so that he was able to inquire this kind of simple question. Yet… as he could not form even understandable sentences in English, assumingly he would fail. The man limped out, leaving the women to shrug after his shadow.

"W-was that Buzz? Or did I see a ghost?" Choi scratched her crown.

"I have no idea what's going on", the blue one shook her head, sitting back down. "I only can hope he gets over this. He has put himself into a big mess. Something happened last night after we left the Council tent, but from his murmurs I couldn't find it out."

The unsound day dragged itself paralyzed frontwards. In pyrexy, Buzz ran around the village and the near woods, searching for his missing wife. All around the Kalevans kept whispering after this manic person. But if the others regarded his light of intelligence ultimately lapsing, the man himself gathered more and more sanity. However… all that hubbub was once again of no avail. Nothing was found. He struggled with his conscience, paranoidly avoiding the Council teepee. Maybe the Head would have known the odysseys of his daughter, but the crushed man could not go and crawl in front of him.

-----

After a long, strenuous hunt day, Yoka-hanen shuffled her tired legs forwards. With a strong steed she had galloped in the shades of the forest under the morning's twilight. Light frost had pinched her cheeks; the atmosphere had been briskish. Full of freedom… full of whiffs. But the midday's low pressure had molten the ice queen's brilliant dresses into runny silt. There, in the middle of this sludge the diurnal was mostly sacrificed to vanity. Or… maybe not completely. The woman had had some time to twine her mixed emotions together. However, still the ultimate comprehension was not found. Proud Crescent stayed as an enigma. Whether to believe that a change had begun… or to come back home and abhor the swollen state of the monster? To laugh or to cry… most possibly she would be made to cry even tonight. After all, back to him she would need to creep, here in the forest she could not stay. Courage was needed; she would need to face his shadow sooner or later again.

Nonetheless, today's most fruitless issue was the capture. Hours Yoka had ridden, encountering only empty traps. No capercailzies, no kluklus, nothing. And during the return journey, her stubborn steed had suddenly hit the roof. Some dimwit dodo had spurted from a big bush right in front of the hoofed animal, putting it to lose its nerves. While the bird vanished idiotically quacking inside another thicket, her hackney had raised up to its hind legs. Being tired after last night's emotional explosion, the girl was not in the best shape with her reflexes. She had lost her balance, flying with a neat curve straight to the former nest of the dodo. Somewhere from there, she slowly had gathered herself up. The steed was gone. Muddy she was, thistles decorating her hair. Miles were there ahead to trudge. Her shoes soaked, the trousers wet until the knee line, she hours later achieved the border of the village. The sun had set its rays down already, not giving any warmth towards her. Shivering with cold, limbs aching because of the slight accident, she jogged into the women's sauna tent. A good warm bath would maybe cherish her a bit. In any case, hot herb drinks would be needed, so that flu would not surprise her. Who would then do anything in Proud Crescent's concentration camp, if she was sick? That would be the end, she understood.                          

It was near midnight, when Buzz opened slightly the corner canvas of his teepee. He was heavily disappointed because of his futile search trips. Like the grand sea would have swallowed the frightened girl he had held last night. Where was Yoka? Would he never be allowed to apologize to her? His panic had abated somewhat, and the insanity did not burn his eyes like that any more. The appearance was a lot more decent than in the morning.

"Craters…" he denounced while thinking of the whole situation. Wife. As it was concluded, only for so little time ago this had just opened to him, what this whole issue meant. But his puny brains were furthermore so much in the arms of a whirlwind, that he would have possibly answered 'Umm… what? Who's Buzz Lightyear?', if someone had called him by his name right at this moment.

But… for his shocking surprise, Yoka was there abruptly in front of his perplexed eyes. Wondering why the home was deserted, the girl had stolen inside for a while ago. Well, maybe the man of the house was again on one of those odd tournées of his. She had finished her washings, put the nightdress on, getting gradually ready for the slumber. In the hut's posterior part, the woman was squatting on the floor, back against Buzz. She was completely absorbed in her little work. Combing her wet hair, she assorted still little burrs away from among it. The soaping had not fully released her locks from their dominance. 

However, Buzz now stood at the entrance like some traffic sign. He tried to gulp the sudden dollop away from his throat, but it did not vanish. Something gushed again his heart, squeezed it violently so that it made his inhales heavy and scorching. In a flash he recalled all the nasty words he had been bawling last night, the girl's crying, her panicky behavior… The combing maiden had not even noticed who was behind her, but went on with her slow labor.

Lightyear gathered his courage, and began to take noiseless steps towards her. He took a look at her feminine, light little movements, and the maroon, long nightgown she had put on. The Captain ruffled somewhat because of his emotions. For the first time, he was watching at her being, not considering her as some irritating, inanimate piece of furniture. There… two steps more… his heart beat faster and faster, obviously it would soon get fees for overspeed.

"Odd… she doesn't seem to notice me…" Buzz spun the words in his rambling mind. One step. Silently he bowed down and put his both hands on her shoulders. The awareness struck her. Yoka screamed shrill in drastic fright, dropping the mirror and the comb. Faster than a bolt she jumped up, twirled around and shocked more.

"Mitae sinae haluat minusta? Et varmana ala hakata minua!" came a rapid yell from her direction, before she retreated into the corner again where the big pot was.

Buzz' shoulders flopped down, and a sad expression shadowed his face. He had ultimately frightened the woman with his cloak-and-dagger creeping. Both of them were entirely perplexed, there just staring at each other again. Fear and confuse were reflecting from her big eyes, and Buzz' blue ones were full of shame. Obviously the woman was afraid that he would start a similar kind of yell-and-curse show as yesterday. What could be expected, since neither one of them knew each other? Complete strangers, just tied up with a knot without asking.

Now Buzz was approaching her with slow steps, his arms spread wide. With a mournful voice he attempted to persuade her coming away from behind the earthenware. That seemed to be her sworn hideout.

"Yoka… I… I didn't mean to scare you again… I… I've tried to search for you all day long and I… I really really want to apologize to my idiocies…"

She did not of course understand a half of this sentence; merely just that he was approaching her.

"No co-mee, no co-mee", she put her arms also in front of her, in some kind of defense pose.

Sighing Lightyear went on, "Yoka, please… I won't hurt you, I just want you to know how sorry I'm because of all this… I've been so stupid. I'd never, ever hurt you…"

He caught finally up the big pot. As to produce at least some kind of signal of peace, he sat right in front of her on the woven carpet. Well, the girl was squatting as well, so now they were on the same level of height.

And the bashfulness shone furthermore from her regard. It was as if she had fumbled some words of English in her mind, but they never achieved her lips.

"W-would you come here?" Buzz whispered, without even pondering further what he was supposed to do. His conscience was shrieking to him, scolding and telling that he should try consoling, whatever that then was. Consoling. Tenderness, in other words.

"Craters, what am I going to do…? I don't want to see her like that, not on this planet! Buzz Lightyear has failed to be a hero, he has failed to maintain the decent and virtuous manners he has had. Blast!" the cobweb of thoughts was woven thicker in his brain cells.

"Uh… w-would you come here?" he repeated his question. This time, he patted his knee with his palm.

The woman gawped at him, taking a look from his legs to face. There was no evilness there, only sadness. Or that was what she was able to read from his gesticulations. Did he ask her to come to him? Why? What would he profit of that?

Yoka took a small stir towards Buzz. And that was enough, he gripped her from her shoulders and drew the girl to sit in his lap. She yelped, but then again met his beseeching eyes.

"I… I'm sorry, I… I just want you to know t-that…" Without observing his own movements, Lightyear had pulled Yoka right against his chest, and closed his strong arms tight around her.

"No-o, nn…" she put some hasty sounds in the middle, while trying to push his massive thorax at least even a bit further.

"Why?" he whispered dejectedly, looking grievous. Buzz ran his other hand's fingers through her open hair and pressed his forehead against hers. "I… I d-don't know if you even understand what I try to tell you, I… I j-just yesterday got the point, that… in what kind of situation we are, and I… I so much would like you to know… umm… that umm… emh… ommoo…" There the words tangled up. Buzz' heart was bouncing up to his throat ten times a second. At the very moment, he realized how close he was holding the girl. And inch, an inch distance. There was something in her presence that made him want to act against the space ranger inside him. This same emotion had been buzzing in him yesterday, that something inexplicable. But, biting his teeth forcefully together, holding his breath for a while, he fought back, and won himself. He could, could not put his lips on hers, what he would have so desperately wanted. And he after all did not even understand why he would have wanted to do that.

"No, no, no. Keep yourself together, Buzz Lightyear. You have done harm enough already, keep yourself together. You have acted like you'd be walking the paths of the dark side. Now, keep your patience, Buzz Lightyear." The man had closed his eyes, repeating those statements like some hymn. And furthermore her soft, fresh cheek was so close, so close…

Her small whisper woke him up. "No-o und-eerstand?" Opening his eyelids, Buzz comprehended he had been chanting his brainwork aloud.

"Uh, no, I… I was t-talking to myself. I…" Cupping his large palm on her bucca, he gave a sigh, "Yoka, I… we… we have to… learn to like each other. I've been such an idiot… I… I've been treating you completely inhumanly, I…" He went on hiding her head under his chin. Slowly he tousled her hair with his fingers, smoothing it, probing it. It was not the thickest of kind, but felt nicely smooth and soft under his hand. She seemed not to resist.

"Do… do you l-like this?"

"Laik…?"

"Umm… yeah, I mean… do you it like that I… umh… well… uh… sm-smooth your hair a bit…?" he wheezed. And in his brains, a sneer grunted, "Craters, couldn't you pick up anything more reasonable to ask?"

Like. That word Yoka knew. The anomalous man was asking her that did she like what he was doing? Strange question, indeed. As she listened to herself, it anyhow did not feel bad, the thing what he was in the middle of. Odd it maybe was, but not uncomfortable, not at all. His fingers felt soft, tender. But why would he act like this? Why would he want to know what she liked? Had not he all the time been the one that needed praising, serving, attention?

"I… l-like." A tiny, shy message was said.

He smiled dolefully. At least he had done something that had maybe brought a bit comfort for her. He found her hand, and took it in his own. So like this looked the hand of a woman, who had done hard work all her life? Chappy, sinewy, with a wide palm… still it was so small compared to his one. And the poor thing did not dare to squeeze back, when he massaged her fingers? Scared, poor thing. He brought the hand to his lips, giving a peck on it. But she drew it rapidly away, almost bouncing off from his hold. In Kalevan culture, hands were considered as 'inferior', something that were for work and fabrication. No one was supposed to kiss them.

"Please… don't go…" he sighed. But she was already on the other side of the room, arranging some earthenware for supper. And so he had to surrender, and sink in his sorrow for a moment.

The food did not taste, although Buzz had eaten nothing this day. He forcibly gulped it down, and flushed it with a cup of apilannatustaja-milk. She ate quickly, with a huge appetite after the wandering in the forest.

"If I could only… get to know her a little more…" he scrutinized her every stir with a woeful glance. "She's my wife… and I don't even know her." The last remains of the meal were gnawed, and the sleeping hours began.  

Yoka tapped to her own mattress, beginning to set aside the pelts and blankets. A heavy yawn of exhaustion made her body tremble. But more she got Goosebumps as she felt two hands gripping her arms again from backwards.

"No, Yoka…" a pleading voice came at her ear. "D-don't…"

"No what…?"  she laid her diffident mien down to look at his imploring visage. Hadn't that person caused her enough consternation already? What there still was that she was not allowed to do?

"D-don't go there… alone… I…" he wined an arm around her, beginning to lead her towards his own bed, "It's… warmer and… softer and better here… beside me. I… I don't want you to sleep alone there."

This sentence she understood, almost wholly. Abashed she resisted a little, but he carefully pushed her down to sit at the edge of his mattress. Wrapping his own felt around her, Buzz then bit by bit drew her nearer, down, to rest in his arms. Gently he placed her head on his shoulder, smoothing her hair and whispering consoling words. And… how she felt his embrace, it was indeed mellow, hearty. How could it be like this suddenly? Did he not hate her? Proud Crescent was truly a nodus. Nonetheless, the fear somehow flew away, and gradually a velvet dream rose instead. Closing her eyes, she soon puffed like a child under his strong arm. And cozy it was also for him to reach the dale of darkness, as he knew he was at least partly forgiven.

…to be continued…