Skinned, dressed, and cleaned in the stream. It was a lengthy process, but Jinyel barely noticed the breaks passing. The fur was exactly as soft as an ordinary rabbit, and the organs were as large and hearty as a deer.
Jinyel cut off the feet up to the elbows and ankles, as well as the head. He carried the skin, organs, and head on his own person, while Elraya only carried the stripped, empty carcass. The feet were left behind at the stream, to entertain whatever scavenger came across them. Although the prey had been large, Jinyel now carried a good third of its weight, and the thairoch was able to get off the ground with some strong wingwork. Elraya had already been unusually muscular from his time spent unable to fly, and once he got into the sky, his flight pattern leveled out.
The hunter on the ground set a quick pace back to camp. He burned with excitement, and although he’d never been a sociable sort, he wanted to ask the Keha’al about the name of this animal. Were there other such fascinating creatures in the grass? What other great sights were there to see in the gold?
The sun was already setting by the time Jinyel set out, and halfway down by the time he finally spotted the camp. It was… larger than he remembered. And also darker. Were they banking the fire? It seemed a bit early for that, especially because he counted nearly a dozen people and elk clustered around it.
Jinyel hesitated for a moment. It was more people than he had expected. The Runwaters had assured him that he Keha’al were decent, reasonable folk, but Jinyel had met a lot of decent, reasonable people who stopped being those things if they had something to gain.
But then again, they had no reason to trust Jinyel. They seemed to intuitively sense that he was dangerous, but not exactly how. He hadn’t told them he was a mage, though his mutated tongue might still give it away.
He also had Elraya. It was dark, and the thairoch could hear in the dark much better than any human could see. None of the Keha’al seemed to be actively looking for anything, so if the turned out to be hostile, he could call down the giant bat, dump the carcass, and take to the sky.
Jinyel didn’t think it would come to that, though. The Kaha’al hadn’t seemed quite that duplicitous.
He approached with his bow stored across his back and his hands full of meat. The outermost Keha’al was one he recognized ― one of the men who had met him yesterday. The man startled, squinted, then tilted his head.
“You?” he asked.
Jinyel had no hands free to speak, so he simply raised up his burden for examination.
“You actually came back?”
Now it was Jinyel’s turn to squint and tilt his head. He couldn’t sign, and his tongue was a mess, but he let it unfurl from his mouth to attempt a response.
“I…” That one was easy. “Th… th… thaib…” He grimaced. “I… thaid… I…” The ‘w’ sound was perhaps the most awkward of the bunch. “... woulb.”
“Huh.” The Keha’al clearly understood what he was trying to say, although seemed a bit baffled that he was here to say it. “I suppose you did.”
The man alerted his fellows. The surprise passed through them like a wave, and within a few moments, all eyes turned to Jinyel. He suspected none of them had expected him to come back, either, judging by the fact they were in the process of scattering the fire and loading up sleeping equipment onto their elk.
“Builder?” The huntress who’d found him melted out of the crowd, brows raised curiously. “Hmm. I suppose you really were as good as your word.” Her eyes fell to his hands. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
“Be at ease, all of you,” an old, feminine voice commanded.
A woman stepped through the remains of the fire, dressed in red and orange regalia even finer than her colorful fellows. Her face was lined with age, and she moved with some pain around her chest area. She seemed familiar. Had Jinyel seen her before? No, he couldn’t have. She was Keha’al, and this was the first time he had met any Keha’al that weren’t hunters.
He had to remind himself of that twice when she looked at him, though. She looked at him as though she’d seen him before.
“You.” She took a moment to observe him. “You’ve brought the head of a haryena.”
Haryena. Was that its name? Jinyel lifted the head in question, and when it seemed clear that it was what she spoke of, he nodded. He stepped back, looked to the sky, and let out a shrill whistle. It was one of the only sounds he could make clearly.
Elraya let out a cheerful cry and swooped to land. A few of the nearer Keha’al stepped back to make space, but then all eyes turned to the carcass upon its back. Jinyel retreated and set the wet skin and head upon Elraya’s back, freeing up his hands to say:
This, gift. Apologies for being late. Trouble carrying this here.
There was a confused pause, and the older woman looked to someone on her left. A man squinted at Jinyel’s hands, then said out loud, “This haryena is a gift. That’s why he took so long to arrive.”
You communicate? Jinyel signed.
The man signed back, Some. I know enough.
“The man you brought here as a prisoner,” the woman said. “We have taken him to our camp.”
Before she was even done speaking, Jinyel had already signed, The man is a slaver, one of many. Do not spare him with your pity. He knows where the others are, where they take their slaves, where they hold their supplies. The people of the Running Water asked me to bring him to you, that you may use his knowledge.
“We know of his sins,” she continued at the same time he signed. “And we know of you, sin-hunter. One of our own was captured by slavers, and you freed him. We acknowledge your intent, although we do not know how your prisoner came to be in such a state. Did you starve him deliberately?”
Only after she had finished speaking did the translator make Jinyel’s thoughts known. There was a pause, and a thoughtful frown on her part, before Jinyel added:
I needed to fly here. My wing-beast recovered from an injury last season. I lessened the slaver’s weight to more easily carry him.
Her eyes narrowed at that. She looked at him in silence, and everyone else was silent with her.
After a long, long time, she asked, “Who leads the people of the Runwaters?”
Jinyel had no idea how to sign names. So he signed Old, and then Give me a moment, and wrenched his tongue around the syllables of “Dthh… Dh… Dho… yen.”
There was a round of uneasily fascinated stares at the way his tongue moved.
“That sign meant ‘old,’” the translator informed them. “Old Doyen.”
The woman sighed. She didn’t seem at all soothed by this, but her posture eased, and she cast a polite glance at Elraya’s burden.
“You honor us once with your visit,” she said, “and twice with your gift. What is your name?”
“Dhimyl.” No. Not that. “Dhlim. Dzim…” He couldn’t get his tongue around the ‘J’ of his own name. I can’t.
“Later, then. You are welcome in our camp, hunter. You will sleep in the tent I share with my apprentice. Perhaps we have a remedy for that tongue, that you may tell us your name without pain.”
There was a caution in her words that gave Jinyel pause. Did she want him in her tent for his own wellness, or so she could keep an eye on him? He couldn’t tell. He didn’t think she trusted him. But she had accepted him, and so did all the others, so for now, until Jinyel saw any foul play on her part, he would choose to accept her in return.
