"Coward, " he whispered softly into the night, testing the word to see if it fit. It did and at the same time it didn't. Blota had made plenty of mistakes. He had been scared to death when he finally managed to get back home and got a less than friendly welcome. No one had harmed him, but he had been interrogated about his whereabouts, for obvious reasons. His own fear had been the worst punishment during those first days back. Coward? He sure had it in him, unfortunately. When he was younger it had been easier to be brave, but perhaps he had mistaken foolishness for bravery. He wasn’t sure he wanted that innocence back.He was already an adult in body when he came back, but it was comforting to finally be able to be accepted as an adult of the pride. He was an adult now, a follower. But the rank change to a much lower one could not be blamed on anyone but himself: It was his fault for trusting the words of strangers, his fault for letting his pride cloud his judgement and it was his fault for straying and not returning straight away. And for being a coward? Blota looked over his shoulder to watch the feather ornament, a token from the Haruspex reading that marked his step to adulthood. A bird was not the most valuable offering, but they were at least sort of hard to catch, so Blota was very happy with it given the circumstances. The green beads were his own idea, a little reminder that he needed to shape up and stick to what he knew to be right unless he wanted to return to his next like with the cowardly taint of green on his pelt.
"I wouldn't change any of it," he whispered to no one in particular, "I learned a lot of things about the world and about myself."
His ears twitched slightly, it sounded a bit pompous when he said it out loud. Most important of all - he now knew he couldn't find a better place to live even if he tried. No one he had met had seemed very connected to the spirits. Well, perhaps that girl that had lost her name, or looked for a new one or something of the sort. She knew of the spirits at least. The others had been like cubs, more or less. No, even a cub in Mizimu'Tungika knew more about the Spirits than the outsiders had done. Not that he blamed them for being uneducated. But the outside world was just a spiritless void he didn't want to live in. He felt more connected here, among those that felt the spirits.
Out there he hadn't been able to consult someone wiser than him when the spirits had confused him. Here he could always approach a member of the Heart when something troubled him. He wouldn't feel as comfortable approaching a Haruspex anymore, now when he wasn't a Sacrifice, but the Scryers and Augurs were usually just as good at figuring out what might be wrong. And if he worked hard he might not stay a Follower forever. Blota was not really expecting to gain back his favoured position as a Sacrifice. He had his chance and he blew it. If he was lucky he wouldn't have to die of old age or disease, but he could not take that for granted anymore. He just hoped to live a productive life and perhaps one day be granted the great gift of dying in battle or being sacrificed. But everything he did from now one had to be perfectly pleasing to the Spirits if he was to scrub away the taint of his youthful mistakes.
The Spirits had decided to teach him a lesson, and Blota was not foolish enough to think that the lesson was over jus because he was back now. He thought back to his last days before leaving, and the things he had said and done. What a brat he had been... He had demanded to be sacrificed, more or less, as if a Haruspex didn't have better judgement when it came to that. He understood what she had meant now. Blota lacked a lot of experience back then, and if someone had asked him today... No, he wasn't ready to be a good Sacrifice yet. He was more ready than he had been back, but still not even close. However, that point was moot since he was no longer a Sacrifice. Period.
And then... He had given her a hard time, hadn't he? The Follower Skadi had just done her job and he'd just been immature and moody. Oh, he really owed her an apology, didn't he? Blota sighed and his ears lowered slightly as he thought about this. She probably outranked him by now too. He vowed to go look for her soon, and... apologise. A small childish part of him found it extremely embarrassing to have to apologise to the very lioness that had hit him for not eating. Ah, in retrospect he no longer blamed her for that. Time offered some perspective as it turned out... Some hunting might be in order. He wasn't the best hunter, or even a decent one, but if he really tried he should be able to catch something. He hoped. He could always bribe a hunter to help? Oh, why did apologising have to be so hard?
He also had to thank Yuusa, and ask to say hi to her sons. So many things had happened while he was gone. The light Sacrifice had helped him a lot on his journeys, and without her sound advice in the back of his head he might have been completely lost.
Blota rested his head on his front paws, alone in the den that was his home now. It wasn't fancy, but it was his home and it was from here he'd start rebuilding his life here in the Mizimu'tungika. His home. He could hear the Spirits whisper in the dry grass outside and that familiar sound lulled him to sleep.
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