The masks were displayed in exceptional prominence: animalKin, all. It was acceptable—sought after, even—to emulate the raw, highly prized senses of their wilder brethren. The Elemental Powers were sacrosanct, forbidden to the skills of Grandmother’s mortal children, but these…
After all, Šaákfo šaself had been mate to Forest Spirits, get of hareKin.
Be one with my skin. The hareKin half-mask flickered, seemed to speak. Taunt him to the chase. And if he can catch you? Dance him giddy.
Skills. Senses. Thisnow seemed to deny the alien latency biding within his Spirit. His heart pounding to match the bass pulse of the drums. The songs lifting, voices rising and falling, over and under the beat, carrying sharp towards Sun and Sky. For every denial there remained a pleasure, with every warp woven into his senses, a woof snugged it to him, his.
No vocalisation was adequate. Tokela peered at the masks, his fingers twitching with longing. Only forbidden arts, it seemed, could describe the truly indescribable.
Tokela walked forwards, gently pushing through the group. They gave courteous way, as they had done to every other who had so obviously made his choice. And if there was a whisper or two?—well, Tokela was used to that. He took down the hareKin mask and peered into the eye sockets. Unremarkable, empty. Yet as he tilted the mask to the torchlight, the hollow orbs glittered, a trick of shadows that was not.
Enemy, Hare suddenly whispered.
Tokela shivered, blinked. A voice sounded from behind him and he whirled, hand going to the knife sheathed at his pectoral.
Mordeleg stood with arms akimbo. “Look to how you have changed our game.” Too close, broad and encroaching, truly more alien than any presence trying to surface in Tokela’s Spirit. Eyes dark as his heart, talk pitched to Tokela’s ears alone. The others, intent upon their own doings and choices, paid little heed.
How had stoneClan birthed the gentle strength of Tokela’s father, yet also this?
“Finally, your Uncle has done his duty,” Mordeleg murmured. “Made of you oških.”
Tokela, already too conscious of the indigo paste still on his cheeks, felt even more the dry pucker and flake. Mordeleg’s eyes scaled him, starting with Tokela’s cheeks then up and down his body like slimy feet.
Tokela gave the only answer he knew: with a steady, flat-eyed glare he walked away from both Mordeleg and the mask wall. He’d little hope it would help.
Mordeleg snatched up a mask with such indifference that several oških, also pondering a choice, barked protest. Mordeleg ignored them. Clutching the bearKin mask in his thick fingers, he shadowed Tokela. Tokela made a seemingly casual path towards where the group of Dancers had gathered within the den’s heart. With Mordeleg, there was safety in numbers—even if those who’d defend ahlóssa would likely pay little heed to another oških who should be perfectly capable of defending himself.
The oških were laughing and scuffling, preening, flexing both muscles and authority. All the while, they pretended not to see each others’ choice of masks. Several were oiling their skin in preparation for the upcoming contest. One was tying a gaily beaded ribbon to his spear haft, another tying back his forelock with finery of beads and fur. Tokela leaned on the wall not too far from them. He knew many of them, of course, but thisDance would include others from far-flung tribes and moieties. Not to mention that ahlóssa did little mixing with oških. Many of the painted faces seemed unfamiliar.
And Mordeleg kept shadowing him. “But Sarinak has been in Council constantly. And you have not been gone long enough to make any Journey. How is such a thing possible?”
Tokela flicked a scornful gaze. There was an oddling something in Mordeleg’s eyes; it scraped uneasy against Tokela’s hyperactive senses.
N’da. He was normal. This would prove it, as Inhya always said.
“Perhaps you were enough of your own heart to make them yourself, as we do in midLands.”
As ill-aimed shots went, this flew too square for Tokela’s liking.
“Did you make them for someone?” Mordeleg smirked and shifted, heavy on his feet but no less a threat. “Did you make them for me?”
A derisive snort escaped Tokela. “I make nothing for you!”
Mordeleg’s face darkened. Tokela answered by taking a whetstone from his pouch. He began to sharpen his obsidian spear point. Growled, soft, “One thing, then. A keen edge to my bla—”
“Eh, hold up, newcomer!” An oških, his Clan Marks of neighbouring lowForest, sauntered over. He looked, from well-muscled maturity to wealth of finery, well along his way to earning his adult Journey. “N’da, not you, midLander.” He shoved Mordeleg aside with careless arrogance.
Tokela’s mouth twitched in bleak humour.
Mordeleg puffed up and angled forwards, a threat.
Within a heartbeat several other oških moved forwards, ringing their companion. The lowForest oških gave a slight smile, rocked on the balls of his feet and lifted one hand, palm up. Come, then.
Mordeleg snarled, threw first the gathered oških then Tokela a venomous look. The debate was clear: pride or wisdom? The latter won. Mordeleg turned on one heel in swift retreat.
Tokela couldn’t help another tucked-away smile, though he well knew he would have to doubly watch his back after this. In response, his hand once more started a draw of whetstone against spear point.
The lowForest oških made a grab for Tokela’s spear. In pure reflex, Tokela snatched it away, and the oških grinned, unoffended. “You’re a quick one! Good! But stop whetting your spear. Blades are dulled for Dance, sharpened for hunting.”
Tokela coloured, looked down.
“It is well.” The oških gave Tokela a friendly clout on the upper arm and pursed his lip after Mordeleg’s retreat. “With that tracking you, I don’t blame you baring your teeth. Your indigo is new? Hunh, I thought so.” He looked closer. “But I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? You’re a’Naisgwyr?”
Tokela stiffened as the small group peered at him, recognition setting in. He said it before they could. “I’m hearth-chieftain’s son.”
“The half-breed,” one of the oških muttered, and another hissed “Spawn!”—unwisely, for he was given a
