9 Outliers

Jaumes

The volcano towered above the two travelers. Jiwado was the smallest of the mountains in this stretch of the Depojico Mountain range, and a hub for construction and metalworking of all kinds.

It was here that Jaumes and Mahela had grown up. Jaumes’ father, Hajuc Oiv Jirajo, was a window and doorway specialist. Mahela’s family had been interior designers who carved their houses themselves. They’d been killed along with Jaumes’ mother in the cave-ins caused by the earthquake about three years ago.

At their deaths, then-two-year-old Mahela had moved in with the Oivs and joined the family. Mahela was Jaumes’ twin sister according to him. When Reni had chosen them as his apprentices, Hajuc had been excited but worried about the offer.

“You’ll be leaving the Mountains, and with them, their protection,” he’d said, “The esosa may kill you both, and if you die out there, you’ll never make it to Jujavu.”

Mahela and Jaumes had ignored the warning. They were too excited about the possibilities that leaving Falera brought. Now Jaumes was returning to the same person who had warned him of the danger. To the place he’d lived in for the overwhelming majority of his life.

Home.

But… with Jiwado staring him in the face, Jaumes realised that he didn’t feel completely falery anymore. He almost felt like he was part aljeny. The magic that still grated slightly in his bones didn't help that, either.

‘Congratulations, Jaumes, you’re an inbetween,’ he thought wryly, ‘Dad’s going to be thrilled that I don’t belong to any group I’m supposed to.’

“Not sure you want to go back in?” Reni asked.

Jaumes jumped slightly and looked up at his mentor, who had been studying him out of the corner of his eye. Reni chuckled.

“Believe me, I know the feeling. Why do you think I went out of my way to find falery vandy?” he asked.

Jaumes said nothing and returned his gaze to Jiwado. Then he walked forward and began to climb to the lowest entry point, about twenty feet up. Reni moved with him, beside Jaumes every step of the way.

* * * * *

Greenbrook

The uncertainty and fear from the Night of Color grew into tension over the next several weeks. Chief Firmstone had issued an extermination of any and all lizards in the territory. The result was more kills than they could eat. Greenbrook felt Aunt Forest growing restless around him because of the waste of food. But what else could Western Forest do? The depojico, stealth and illusion specialists, were out there planning the downfall of the humans. Killing them was key to human survival. They couldn’t risk any depojico surviving because they cloaked themselves as their smaller, harmless counterparts.

But this morning, as Greenbrook had been preparing to kill a group of about fifty lizards he’d found, he’d felt Aunt Forest swell under him. Immediately a sharp pain pierced his chest, and he’d fallen to his hands and knees. The pain blinded his mind, and he couldn’t think. For hours he stayed there, stuck behind a bush while the chest pain grew in intensity.

Finally, through the pain, he managed to recognize it as a warning. Shakily, Greenbrook apologized for his near-action and promised to not harm this group of lizards. As soon as he did, the pain subsided and he was able to get up and go back to the village.

By the time he arrived, the sun was high in the sky. The bright light shone off of the lizard skins hanging everywhere. Many of the Western Forest people now wore clothes of the stuff, mixed with the traditional squirrel and deer pelts and the occasional bear pelt. Greenbrook unconsciously rubbed the cougar pelt that made up his own attire. The lizard skins were not meant to be worn casually. They were used for water skins, baskets, and protection in battle. Even so, there were so many skins that they had to be creative to find uses for all of them.

Regardless of the waste that was already over them, Western Forest couldn’t leave the lizards to live and plan and attack. The humans needed to protect themselves, after all. If only two depojico could cause havoc on a whole village, then Greenbrook didn’t want to know what fifty of them could do. Extermination was the only way.

“You missed lunch,” Elmtree walked up to Greenbrook, “I have leftovers in my family’s cabin. Come, the future chief needs to eat.”

“You don’t need to talk so proper,” Greenbrook said.

Elmtree flushed and glanced around. Greenbrook flushed too when he realized that he’d said the wrong thing.

“I mean, okay. Thank you,” he said.

Elmtree nodded and began to lead him to her cabin. As they went inside, Greenbrook noticed Trail watching them from the other side of the clearing. The forest-born’s expression was hard to read from this distance, but Greenbrook felt his eyes. He shuddered. Trail and Greenbrook had actually become friends now. Greenbrook hoped that he hadn’t just messed that up.

It was late that night that the Messenger Bonfire was allowed to smolder and Greenbrook could finally go to bed. They’d been entreating Mother Moon for help every night since the depojico were revealed. The worry and stress was exhausting.

Now alone in his cabin, Greenbrook collapsed onto his bed and lay there, waiting for sleep to overtake him. His muggy brain drifted, letting all sorts of thoughts make their way through. There was the problem of the depojico, the powerful lizards that hid for so long and could avoid human detection. There was the emerging problem of upsetting Sister Forest and her related spirits with the waste that the lizard slaughter was causing. There was also the problem of Trail and Elmtree.

That last problem was one that only Greenbrook seemed to notice or care about. He’d been watching the two betrothed, and couldn’t help but notice how they didn’t seem all that keen about the prospect. If anything, the idea embarrassed them and stressed an otherwise healthy friendship. And Trail was nowhere near ready for the responsibility of a family. By now Greenbrook understood perfectly why he had been traded for, and why the exchange had been for Trail’s younger sister instead of the teen himself. Trail was no chief. No tribe would accept him as one.

“That is right, my child. But you will be ready to become a chief very soon.”

Greenbrook sat up and looked around his room for the source of the voice. Part of his heart whispered that he knew who it was, though he’d never heard it before.

Now he was sitting in a forest clearing, Mother Moon shining above him. He looked up at her.

“Mother?” he asked, not even thinking to refer to her by her name.

“Yes, child,” the voice responded.

It seemed to come from the beams of soft light that were falling over Greenbrook.

“Greenbrook, when you become chief, you must work to unite the human tribes,” Mother Moon said, “In time, the depojico will come together, and if the humans are not united to face them, they will fall to the small, ancient creatures. You must unite the humans to save them. Go- let your love of all humans fuel you.”

Greenbrook bowed his head.

“But how will I unite them? They all hate each other, and even within the tribes themselves there is animosity between groups,” he said.

“Show them that they are the same,” Mother Moon said.

Then Greenbrook’s dream changed scenes…

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