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The undercurrent of rage faded fast the further he was from the camp. If he did not have to look at the stranger, if he did not have to be reminded of K’ailia, if he did not have to accept the outsider’s presence, then he could calm. It was beyond his understanding that the Elder could so easily accept an armed and arrogant stranger into the camp. Did they not think? If they accepted him into the camp, they had to feed and provide for him when they already could not do so for the countless family members. Why then, would they accept an outsider if they would not accept their own daughter? She was flawed and foolish but brave and confident and skilled. K’ailia should have been welcomed back before some outsider claiming a long lost worthless Tia for a father.
But the bitter thoughts in his mind only left a bitter taste in his mouth, for K’yohko all too well knew that there was nothing he could do. The Elders had chosen this path, and he could not oppose them. He could never oppose them. If he opposed them, surely as the Nunh the entire camp would fall apart. What little dying family they had left would be shattered and the Hipparon would be no more but a spec of memory to the wandering survivors.
That was a fate he did not wish to inflict upon his daughters or the women whom had mated with him. It was a painful thought.
K’yohko looked back to the camp, his eyes honing in sharply upon the small moving figures and the scents that wafted up towards him. Would K’nahli listen to his order? He did not hold his breath that she would. She was too stubborn, too foolishly proud to ever listen. And in the coming days, she would learn to listen. K’yohko couldn’t help the bitter promise to ensure that K’nahli learned her place. He would not have another daughter exiled because they did not know respect.
A strong smell suddenly entered K’yohko’s sense and he turned his head towards the source. Across the dunes stood a figure, a stranger. And yet the scent was not of a stranger. Although it had a strange smell to it, K’yohko could smell the undertones of home. He strained his eyes, trying to recognize the man. He was still too far away. K’yohko’s memory did not recall the miq’ote at that moment.
K’yohko urged his Courel forward towards the stranger, hoping to get a better look and recall the strange face that seemed so familiar. He rode until he was only a few feet out from the man before dismounting in a swift motion. He stepped in front of his best and examined K’hai, his face as stony and unmoving as K’hai might have recalled it from so long ago.
“You seem familiar.†K’yohko called out. He seemed an almost untouched figure of time. His voice as deep and flat as it had been five years ago.
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