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The wind still smells like smoke, miles out now through the frozen rock trees. Owl’s Nest is left behind you, but none of your party have spoken since the foretellings of the man in the flame. Finally, the edge of the wood is broached, back onto the snowy meadow led to it, patched with faint oases of dirt. Kule has spent the return fuming, pacing with special violence and unnecessary energy. Light-in-his-Eyes walks straight, but his face has run the rainbow of the thinker all the way back. First utter confusion, then apprehension, concentration, shock, dismissal, retrieval and now resting on thoughtful surrender. Noka walks as she always has, eyes undemured, curious.
As the group exits the petrified forest, you spy a clear spot of ground and sit yourself down on it, rubbing your eye. There are motes of ash still freckling your face and coat. Brusque steps sift behind you. You do not need to look up to know that it’s Kule. You do anyway. Naming his expression as intense does it a disservice, the light purple flowers woven in his hair do little to stay its vinegar. His arms are crossed, and he pins you with his gaze.
<span class="mu-i">”Well?"</span>
You rest your cheek on your fist, looking back at him. Your other hand begins to rummage around the interior pockets of your coat, looking for your cigarillos. It is with the utmost dismay that you remember they were all spent several days ago. Kule’s chest rises and falls hard. He does not desist.
<span class="mu-i">”Well!!?”</span>
<span class="mu-i">”Well…you reckon that pack horse may’ve graced our expedition with tobacco leaf and an implement to abuse it?”</span>
You jerk your head toward Light-in-his-Eyes and his large, woven knapsack. The contents of which he has begun, once again, to dig through for some miscellaneous item.
<span class="mu-i">”WHY ARE YOU MAKING JOKES? WHY HAVE WE STOPPED? WHY AREN’T YOU MOVING!!?”</span>
<span class="mu-i">”Take a breath.”</span>
<span class="mu-i">”DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO! My uncle is dying, DYING somewhere in a lightless cave with nobody to help him. Noka is going to die if she continues with us, with you. THIS IS NOT A JOKE!! He would do it for you, he would help you, but you don’t care. Do you think I won’t go? Do you think I can’t? That I’m helpless? I don’t need you Campbell, I’ll go by myself! I’m going to find him, then I’m going to kill whoever is after him, then I’m going to drag him back to our home and then he’s going to be fine! You really think I need you, or anyone? I DON’T!”</span>
You endured around half of the tirade before you stand and make your way over to the young boy. He is too busy spitting blood to care about your approach. When you find yourself in range, you slap him. It’s…robust, enough to send him down on one knee. He holds the side of his face.
