The Tale of Outh'n Durr

Chapter 1: Running

There. Gasping, Outh'n Durr raced for the animal den he knew was empty and big enough to hide him from his pursuers. Questions flickered through his mind with each pounding footfall.

Why were they after him? How could his own people believe he would hurt the only person who'd chosen to befriend him? Why him? Was it so bad to want to be part of their fun? He just wanted to be accepted. Why did Tugansol, the Life Giver, seem to want his life snuffed out?

He'd long left the villagers behind. Outh'n might be outwardly imperfect, strabismus, a slightly crooked nose, and a scar through the eyebrow above his wall-eye marring the symmetry of his otherwise handsome face. But he'd learned to work around the vision impairment and learned to live with the face that stared back at him from the surface of the village pond.

What he lacked in physical beauty, he made up for with speed and agility. After winning several competitions, the villagers actively began discouraging him from participating. Kurg'l, the son of a village Senya, wouldn't stand for anyone besting him in any event.

So Outh'n had focused on the other thing he was good at — working with his hands. And it had paid off. His apprenticeship request to the Oxyl Glashiin Workers had been sent off a minsik ago and the acceptance received only yesterdawn. He couldn't wait to get out of this place now where everyone kept holding him back. They couldn't touch him in Oxyl, though.

But now Alanyin was gone. Forever. He was being blamed and his life would never be the same. He'd be Creator-blessed if he lived to see the next dawning.

Taking precious moments, Outh'n looked for the branch of fragrant miklanin. Spotting one of the shrubs beside the path, he snapped a branch free and crushed some of the leaves. Foul-smelling, but it would disguise his scent from a hunting pack of wuve, as well as brush away evidence of his passage. He retraced his steps to a stream he'd jumped to reach the shrub and began the task of erasing his scent by traveling up the stream as quickly and quietly as possible for a good distance. When he judged he'd gone far enough, he pulled some leaves from his pocket and scattered them on the ground. He brushed over them with his wet boots, then proceeded to scatter a few leaves as he continued toward his chosen haven.

The slowness ate at his already fractured psyche and he couldn't decide which urging to listen to. In the end, he worked steadily and reminded himself it was better this way. Whether the villagers caught him here or at his hiding place, the result would be the same. At least this way, he had a better chance of surviving. He worked on with renewed determination.

After what seemed forever, the miklanin shrub which covered the opening of the abandoned den came into view. Outh'n was never more happy for his thin, flexible frame. He'd had to hide in the cramped space many times before. The only difference this time was how much it would cost him if he was discovered. His life, such as it was, hung in the balance.

Long moments passed and exhaustion overcame the youngling. He fell asleep to whispers drifting through the turning leaves surrounding him as a cool breeze reminded all of the changing dahlsikin.

*****

"We're close. I know it."

Kurg'l's strident voice cut through the murk of Outh'n's sleep. He tensed and waited.

"How do you know, Kurg?" Deil'n was there, too. Their babei sat on the village council allowing them to get away with much more than they should have.

How he wished Alanyin was here! Tears stung his eyes at the reminder of her broken body on the ground at his feet. He'd tried to catch her. He was so fast. Why couldn't he catch her? Only the day before, she'd spoken to him of Kurg'l's disregard for her honor. Outh'n couldn't help thinking the misbegotten son-of-a-whe'evet had only treated her so badly because he knew Outh'n would be incensed by his actions. The blame was his and his alone. Everything bad that happened to her was only because she wanted to be his friend and, fool that he was, he couldn't say no.