[Frontier] Staghawk pt. 3 - The Admission
Posted: Sat Oct 18, 2025 10:31 pm
Continued from here.
Hunting was a quiet task. Done properly, the prey was never supposed to know it was being pursued. Vex Halladrin was not a proper hunter. That was why Jinyel knew ― or at least strongly suspected ― that the unspoken tension between them was of a predatory nature.
The wolf sensed it too, he thought. The yearling animal he had once crippled now lay beside him, watching what he watched, tensing as he tensed. Once upon a time, Jinyel had heard tall tales of wolves being able to smell fear. He wondered if it was true. He wondered if the wolf, young as she was, could smell exactly how ready he was for a fight.
“You are uneasy with him.” The Keha’s voice was soft, as usual, but still tinted with the suspicion shared by most of the tribe. She didn’t trust this stranger, and she could tell that Jinyel’s distrust was even sharper. “Do you know who he is?”
No. Jinyel sat beside the Keha’s tent, haryena fur in his hand to be spun into yarn, and through narrowed eyes watched the newlycome Avriel flit about the central camp.
Vex Halladrin spoke easily with the tribesfolk, though the tribesfolk were not so easy to speak with. He invited children to look at his feathers, but the children kept close to their mothers instead.
And then, every so often, Vex would look at Jinyel. Clearly. Deliberately. He didn’t approach, but he always seemed to know exactly where Jinyel was. Every time, Jinyel tensed. Every time, the wolf tensed with him.
“You keep watching him,” the Keha observed. “Do you think he is dangerous?”
He has two swords. The handles are well-used. Yes, I think he is dangerous.
“More than that. There’s something about this that doesn’t feel right.”
I agree. Jinyel’s hands paused on the edge of a confession he didn’t have the courage to make. He almost asked ‘Have I ever told you about my grandmother?’ but couldn’t make the words come out.
The Keha watched his hands fall wordlessly to his lap. Normally, she let him have his secrets. Now her eyes lingered, perhaps suspicious of him, perhaps suspicious of their visitor.
“If you believe there is more danger than we see,” she murmured, “we will listen. You may still be new to us, but you have proven yourself our friend. We trust you more than we trust this stranger.”
He’s coming this way, Jinyel signed.
The wolf stiffened. Jinyel placed a hand on her scruff, both reassurance and command: Stay down. Not that he trusted her to listen, if things actually turned sour, but she had grown used to people. He trusted her not to lunge unless someone else lunged first.
Vex approached with relaxed, unhurried steps, admiring their neighbors and tents and everything in the world that wasn’t Jinyel.
“Such lovely tents,” the Avriel said to no one once he was in earshot. “This land is almost entirely uncharted by Raskalarn’s mappers. And to think, such incredible artisans were hidden in the grass for so long. The colors! The craftsmanship! I honor Raskalarn as much as the next Imperial, but flat blacks and greys can grow so dull after awhile. You are… the Keha, yes?”
He turned his eye finally onto them. The Keha nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “I am the Keha. Are you of ill health, stranger? There are no roads from here to the Empire. I’m sure the journey has been difficult.”
“It has indeed, but I am in excellent health, thank you. I’ll surely come to see you if that changes.” Vex Halladrin smiled at Jinyel. “And this young man here, is he your grandson? Such fleet hands he speaks with. I’m told he’s an excellent hunter.”
“He is of my tent,” the Keha replied politely, which was technically true. Jinyel had been sleeping in her tent for the better part of two seasons, even though they weren’t related by blood. He may not have been Keha’al, but he was still her patient, and his skinned back required daily medical care. “He is an excellent hunter.”
Two answers, carefully lacking in detail.
“I see,” purred Vex. “Your families are refreshingly large. The Empire has similar families, you know. Not like those uncivilized lands to the north and south where only two people can marry. Imperial marriages can have half a dozen husbands or wives, and three times as many children. You, young man―”
He nodded to Jinyel.
“―are the rider of that thairoch I spied on the outskirts, yes? At least, I was told that animal is yours. An unusual animal in these parts, but thairochs are very common in the Empire. And wolves, you know, are of Karem. Our Lady of the Hunt smiles upon those who befriend them.”
His smile revealed nothing. Was this friendly small talk, or another poke at Jinyel’s origin?
Tell me what you want, Jinyel signed.
The Avriel chuckled. “Unfortunately, I have no knowledge of sign. I know I should; it’s a common language. If you could speak your words out loud…?”
“He has a mouth condition,” the Keha cut in. “To speak aloud is difficult for him.”
“Oh, my mistake.” Vex’s smile turned into a grin, placed fully on Jinyel. “You spoke so clearly when we arrived here, I didn’t know it distressed you. Those teeth of yours were quite a sight. And the tongue, my goodness. I’d hardly believe such a thing were possible if I hadn’t seen it. I’ve never heard of a race with mouth like yours, at least none that gives the outward appearance of an unmagic human.”
There was an emphasis on those last two words.
“Did something happen to you?” the Avriel asked. “Are those teeth and tongue recent developments, or were you born with them?”
The question was clearly pointed at Jinyel, and the Keha chose to hold her tongue. She glanced at him, though. Her eyes were a question.
Leave us, please. Jinyel faced Vex, he aimed the sign at Vex, but the Keha was the only one who seemed to respond to sign language. He might be lying about his ignorance of sign. If he is prodding for information, he might speak more freely if we are alone.
Ever so slightly, the Keha signed, You will tell me what he says afterward, she signed, if anything.
I swear it.
She looked beyond her tent, to some imagined event behind Vex, and cleared her throat.
“I must see to the red and green tent,” she announced. “I think their yellow-haired girl might be having another breathing attack.”
“Oh dear.” Vex looked over his shoulder, but the Keha was already on the move before he could see whatever she’d pretended to see. “Please, don’t let me keep you. A child’s breathing is much more important than idle chatter.”
The Keha strode off, giving Jinyel one last glance over her shoulder. Be careful, she signed.
Both men watched her go. Once they were alone with the tense wolf, and no one in the camp could have overheard, Vex Halladrin murmured:
“That’s an unfortunate wound you have.” He looked back to Jinyel. “What lies under those bandages? It must be serious, to require the personal care of the tribe healer.”
Tribe healer. Not your healer. An accusation? Was Vex suggesting that Jinyel wasn’t of the tribe?
Tell me what you want, Jinyel repeated.
“As I said, I am unfortunately ignorant of sign language. I’ll need you to speak aloud.”
Jinyel blinked. Was it true? They were alone. There was no one to lie to except Jinyel.
“No matter,” the Avriel said when Jinyel didn’t respond. “A nod or a shake of the head is more than enough. I’ll ask easy questions. Were you born with those mutations in your mouth?”
If you want me to speak your language, speak mine first.
“Hmm. Agnis did say that… my grandson was a tough nut to crack.”
Agnis. Jinyel had heard that name before. He’d said that name before. Where? Who had he forgotten? And why was Vex grinning like he had all the answers?
“My grandson is a hunter, you know.” Vex stepped closer. “And he speaks only in Common Sign, unless absolutely necessary.”
Then why don’t you speak your own grandson’s language?
Another step. “He has a strange tongue, too. But he wasn’t born with it.”
I don’t know you.
“It came from his magic.”
Get away from me.
“It came from his grandmother.”
The wolf let out a thunderous bark and lunged. Not to draw blood, just to put a few holes into Vex’s cloak.
Jinyel cried “Down!” the same moment Vex stumbled back, reached for his weapons, and remembered both weapons were peace-bonded into their scabbards.
“Stranger!” A tribesman called out from the nearest tent. Jinyel didn’t know his name, but he was one of the older hunters, and he hurried towards them with a wave that was slightly friendly, mostly panicked. “I’ve heard you hail from the East. I am very curious about the East. Come share the midday meal with us.”
Jinyel put both hands on the wolf to steer her back to her haunches. The wolf didn’t sit, but she retreated a step, enough for Jinyel to physically put himself between her and Vex.
The tribesman, meanwhile, put himself physically between Vex and Jinyel. He had tossed scraps to the wolf before, so she had no quarrel with him, and his voice took a too-loud tone as he clapped Vex on the shoulder.
“My nephew is terribly curious about your clothes.” The tribesman crowded Vex away from the Keha’s tent. “Black dye is difficult to use. We don’t often make black garments. My sister is an expert dyer. She wants to speak with you.”
“Clothes. Black. Dyer. Of course.” The Avriel’s voice shook with frustration. “I am eager to share all knowledge of Raskalarn’s ways. I have plenty of time to speak with your family. I will speak with everyone before I leave.”
He spared Jinyel a seething glare. But that was all he could do if he was to remain polite. Other Keha’al had noticed the scene, and were coming to lend aid. Jinyel had no knowledge of social graces, but the Keha’al knew everything about hospitality there was to know.
As Jinyel wrapped a soothing arm around his wolf’s neck, he returned the glare in full. The Avriel was fortunate to have the Keha'al's hospitality as a barrier.
Jinyel would offer no such grace at their next encounter.
Continued here.
Hunting was a quiet task. Done properly, the prey was never supposed to know it was being pursued. Vex Halladrin was not a proper hunter. That was why Jinyel knew ― or at least strongly suspected ― that the unspoken tension between them was of a predatory nature.
The wolf sensed it too, he thought. The yearling animal he had once crippled now lay beside him, watching what he watched, tensing as he tensed. Once upon a time, Jinyel had heard tall tales of wolves being able to smell fear. He wondered if it was true. He wondered if the wolf, young as she was, could smell exactly how ready he was for a fight.
“You are uneasy with him.” The Keha’s voice was soft, as usual, but still tinted with the suspicion shared by most of the tribe. She didn’t trust this stranger, and she could tell that Jinyel’s distrust was even sharper. “Do you know who he is?”
No. Jinyel sat beside the Keha’s tent, haryena fur in his hand to be spun into yarn, and through narrowed eyes watched the newlycome Avriel flit about the central camp.
Vex Halladrin spoke easily with the tribesfolk, though the tribesfolk were not so easy to speak with. He invited children to look at his feathers, but the children kept close to their mothers instead.
And then, every so often, Vex would look at Jinyel. Clearly. Deliberately. He didn’t approach, but he always seemed to know exactly where Jinyel was. Every time, Jinyel tensed. Every time, the wolf tensed with him.
“You keep watching him,” the Keha observed. “Do you think he is dangerous?”
He has two swords. The handles are well-used. Yes, I think he is dangerous.
“More than that. There’s something about this that doesn’t feel right.”
I agree. Jinyel’s hands paused on the edge of a confession he didn’t have the courage to make. He almost asked ‘Have I ever told you about my grandmother?’ but couldn’t make the words come out.
The Keha watched his hands fall wordlessly to his lap. Normally, she let him have his secrets. Now her eyes lingered, perhaps suspicious of him, perhaps suspicious of their visitor.
“If you believe there is more danger than we see,” she murmured, “we will listen. You may still be new to us, but you have proven yourself our friend. We trust you more than we trust this stranger.”
He’s coming this way, Jinyel signed.
The wolf stiffened. Jinyel placed a hand on her scruff, both reassurance and command: Stay down. Not that he trusted her to listen, if things actually turned sour, but she had grown used to people. He trusted her not to lunge unless someone else lunged first.
Vex approached with relaxed, unhurried steps, admiring their neighbors and tents and everything in the world that wasn’t Jinyel.
“Such lovely tents,” the Avriel said to no one once he was in earshot. “This land is almost entirely uncharted by Raskalarn’s mappers. And to think, such incredible artisans were hidden in the grass for so long. The colors! The craftsmanship! I honor Raskalarn as much as the next Imperial, but flat blacks and greys can grow so dull after awhile. You are… the Keha, yes?”
He turned his eye finally onto them. The Keha nodded.
“Yes,” she said. “I am the Keha. Are you of ill health, stranger? There are no roads from here to the Empire. I’m sure the journey has been difficult.”
“It has indeed, but I am in excellent health, thank you. I’ll surely come to see you if that changes.” Vex Halladrin smiled at Jinyel. “And this young man here, is he your grandson? Such fleet hands he speaks with. I’m told he’s an excellent hunter.”
“He is of my tent,” the Keha replied politely, which was technically true. Jinyel had been sleeping in her tent for the better part of two seasons, even though they weren’t related by blood. He may not have been Keha’al, but he was still her patient, and his skinned back required daily medical care. “He is an excellent hunter.”
Two answers, carefully lacking in detail.
“I see,” purred Vex. “Your families are refreshingly large. The Empire has similar families, you know. Not like those uncivilized lands to the north and south where only two people can marry. Imperial marriages can have half a dozen husbands or wives, and three times as many children. You, young man―”
He nodded to Jinyel.
“―are the rider of that thairoch I spied on the outskirts, yes? At least, I was told that animal is yours. An unusual animal in these parts, but thairochs are very common in the Empire. And wolves, you know, are of Karem. Our Lady of the Hunt smiles upon those who befriend them.”
His smile revealed nothing. Was this friendly small talk, or another poke at Jinyel’s origin?
Tell me what you want, Jinyel signed.
The Avriel chuckled. “Unfortunately, I have no knowledge of sign. I know I should; it’s a common language. If you could speak your words out loud…?”
“He has a mouth condition,” the Keha cut in. “To speak aloud is difficult for him.”
“Oh, my mistake.” Vex’s smile turned into a grin, placed fully on Jinyel. “You spoke so clearly when we arrived here, I didn’t know it distressed you. Those teeth of yours were quite a sight. And the tongue, my goodness. I’d hardly believe such a thing were possible if I hadn’t seen it. I’ve never heard of a race with mouth like yours, at least none that gives the outward appearance of an unmagic human.”
There was an emphasis on those last two words.
“Did something happen to you?” the Avriel asked. “Are those teeth and tongue recent developments, or were you born with them?”
The question was clearly pointed at Jinyel, and the Keha chose to hold her tongue. She glanced at him, though. Her eyes were a question.
Leave us, please. Jinyel faced Vex, he aimed the sign at Vex, but the Keha was the only one who seemed to respond to sign language. He might be lying about his ignorance of sign. If he is prodding for information, he might speak more freely if we are alone.
Ever so slightly, the Keha signed, You will tell me what he says afterward, she signed, if anything.
I swear it.
She looked beyond her tent, to some imagined event behind Vex, and cleared her throat.
“I must see to the red and green tent,” she announced. “I think their yellow-haired girl might be having another breathing attack.”
“Oh dear.” Vex looked over his shoulder, but the Keha was already on the move before he could see whatever she’d pretended to see. “Please, don’t let me keep you. A child’s breathing is much more important than idle chatter.”
The Keha strode off, giving Jinyel one last glance over her shoulder. Be careful, she signed.
Both men watched her go. Once they were alone with the tense wolf, and no one in the camp could have overheard, Vex Halladrin murmured:
“That’s an unfortunate wound you have.” He looked back to Jinyel. “What lies under those bandages? It must be serious, to require the personal care of the tribe healer.”
Tribe healer. Not your healer. An accusation? Was Vex suggesting that Jinyel wasn’t of the tribe?
Tell me what you want, Jinyel repeated.
“As I said, I am unfortunately ignorant of sign language. I’ll need you to speak aloud.”
Jinyel blinked. Was it true? They were alone. There was no one to lie to except Jinyel.
“No matter,” the Avriel said when Jinyel didn’t respond. “A nod or a shake of the head is more than enough. I’ll ask easy questions. Were you born with those mutations in your mouth?”
If you want me to speak your language, speak mine first.
“Hmm. Agnis did say that… my grandson was a tough nut to crack.”
Agnis. Jinyel had heard that name before. He’d said that name before. Where? Who had he forgotten? And why was Vex grinning like he had all the answers?
“My grandson is a hunter, you know.” Vex stepped closer. “And he speaks only in Common Sign, unless absolutely necessary.”
Then why don’t you speak your own grandson’s language?
Another step. “He has a strange tongue, too. But he wasn’t born with it.”
I don’t know you.
“It came from his magic.”
Get away from me.
“It came from his grandmother.”
The wolf let out a thunderous bark and lunged. Not to draw blood, just to put a few holes into Vex’s cloak.
Jinyel cried “Down!” the same moment Vex stumbled back, reached for his weapons, and remembered both weapons were peace-bonded into their scabbards.
“Stranger!” A tribesman called out from the nearest tent. Jinyel didn’t know his name, but he was one of the older hunters, and he hurried towards them with a wave that was slightly friendly, mostly panicked. “I’ve heard you hail from the East. I am very curious about the East. Come share the midday meal with us.”
Jinyel put both hands on the wolf to steer her back to her haunches. The wolf didn’t sit, but she retreated a step, enough for Jinyel to physically put himself between her and Vex.
The tribesman, meanwhile, put himself physically between Vex and Jinyel. He had tossed scraps to the wolf before, so she had no quarrel with him, and his voice took a too-loud tone as he clapped Vex on the shoulder.
“My nephew is terribly curious about your clothes.” The tribesman crowded Vex away from the Keha’s tent. “Black dye is difficult to use. We don’t often make black garments. My sister is an expert dyer. She wants to speak with you.”
“Clothes. Black. Dyer. Of course.” The Avriel’s voice shook with frustration. “I am eager to share all knowledge of Raskalarn’s ways. I have plenty of time to speak with your family. I will speak with everyone before I leave.”
He spared Jinyel a seething glare. But that was all he could do if he was to remain polite. Other Keha’al had noticed the scene, and were coming to lend aid. Jinyel had no knowledge of social graces, but the Keha’al knew everything about hospitality there was to know.
As Jinyel wrapped a soothing arm around his wolf’s neck, he returned the glare in full. The Avriel was fortunate to have the Keha'al's hospitality as a barrier.
Jinyel would offer no such grace at their next encounter.
Continued here.