Votzhem's hunting trip was a resounding success. He had taken many good meat animals and pelts and even some trophies and quality crafting materials – a burgeoning haul overall that he could sell at the market. Of course, Kaalnia's friend Dyakida would get the first look, so to speak, at the items. He liked that Alkidike – she was smart and calm and he appreciated that. It was years, now, since he had walked Tendaji to join his tribe. And he still felt like an outsider. At first, he had felt that he deserved it – he was new, he was from Sauti, and he was a halfbreed besides. He had thought that the ire would die down over time, as he proved himself to be a proper warrior of his tribe.

It never had.

He knew now that he would never become one of them, he knew now. They would never accept him. They would never appreciate him. He wondered, though, if he had just had bad timing.

He had heard the rumors of extremist Alkidike throwing their weight around, abusing and threatening hybrids and earthlings alike who crossed their paths. Surely that, then, was what turned the tribe away from him. Had he arrived before their stirrings, perhaps he would have found the acceptance he sought. Maybe, too, if he waited for their fervor to pass into the distance, as such things did, things would improve.

He didn't want to give up completely on being a part of his mother's tribe. The glory of Lakshmi's stories would never die, and he could still see some of that glory in his adopted tribe. Just a little – but just enough for him to believe in them a little, to hope that they would, one day, move a little closer. To hope that he was wrong about them never appreciating him.

For now, though, he would settle for them not hating him. He'd solved the problem of them breaking his heart all the time: he no longer courted or slept with Alkidikes. He didn't know why he'd had such a run of bad luck. After all, he wasn't bad looking, bad at courting, or bad in bed. He was, he figured, pretty average – but on the good side of average – on all three counts. But now, he was officially spoken for, and that suited him fine. He had a girl who cared about him, and who he felt good about. She was an Earthling, a pure-blooded (and hotblooded) Leaf tribeswoman, but he was sure that, at this point, no one would care. Or, if they did, he was done caring about it.

His antennae tingled with the vibrations of something in the trees, making him slow warily. A hiss broke the relative hooting silence of Jahuar, and he stepped back just in time to dodge an arrow. It sank into the mud and brush on the side of the road, and he drew a blade, the other arm occupied with his goods.

“Damn. Missed him.” said a voice. They – and the other movements in the trees around him - were Alkidikes – Votzhem didn't need to look up to know that. He settled into a battle stance, not particularly surprised. If the extremists were ambushing hybrids, it was only fair that he would get a visit from them at some point.

“Morning, Sisters.” he said, as they came out of the trees and surrounded him, confirming his suspicions. “Or is it afternoon? Hard to tell on the forest floor, aye?” He recognized a few of them, noting down their faces for later to mention them to Kaalnia. Even if he lost here, the warrior would have a few choice words to say to them.

“It's among your last days, halfbreed. Number them well.” They approached and Votzhem could almost laugh.

“Nice to see you too, Amaei.” he drawled, watching them all as they approached, waiting for the right oppurtunity to strike and run. “Funny how you're calling me that now, when ye used to call me yer 'darling blueberry love.' Whatever happened to that? It was creative, I thought.”

“You... disgusting worm.” she snarled. Votzhem took some satisfaction in the rise he had gotten out of her. “I never called you anything of the sort. And I'd never look twice at you, you worthless abomination...”

“I dunno, Amaei, you looked more than twice at me.” Normally, he wasn't one for kissing and telling, but this one... she'd led him on. She'd broken his heart. She'd laughed at him, in front of her friends when he'd confronted her about it, and had made the cruellest of suggestions. He understood that she didn't want anybody to know of her dalliance with him, but he also knew that he'd been treated like dirt, and that had not been right, not by any definition of the word. “And when you were on yer back in the leaf pile behind yer tree...”

“Shut up!” she screamed, “You lying...”

“Amaei...” murmured one of the others, “Don't let him get to you.”

“Well, if it isn't Cetii.” he drawled, “Long time no see. Are you two together, now? Funny how you both tried me on for size and then decided on each other...” He dodged the enraged spear strike that came his way, “I'm just saying. It's ironic, is all.” He managed a smirk. He might as well laugh at the situation, and make the most of it. He was surrounded, and there was very little chance of a way out. He knew how this went – they beat up a hybrid, took his or her things, and then told them to leave or die. Well, he figured, if that was how things were going to go, he wasn't going without a good fight!

He let his goods slip to the ground and drew his other blade. “And you, Yanah, how're you doing? Settled in with that earthling yet, or still stuck with that woman you don't love? I don't see her here...” he grinned, “So good for you, getting out from under her thumb. Shame you had to use me to get there, eh?” He felt a little regret for Yanah, especially as he saw her eyes sparkle with a few repressed tears. But still – yet another lover who had used him and left him. Her reasons were her own, and he understood them, as he had understood all of their reasons. But now they wanted to hurt him. The gloves were off. “Well, this is a nice reunion, ladies.” he drawled, “But I 'spect you want to get the whole 'ambush the hyrbid, take his things, tell him to get out or die thing' done, eh? A'fore I reveal more of yer dirty little secrets.” He tapped into the life force granted to him by their mother, feeling it flow sweetly through him. It connected him to them, and them to him, and all of them to their entire tribe. There was something wrong about using it against kin, but Aisha understood. Her children were warriors. Her children would fight, even each other. “Well, lets get to it then!” he said.

His words, cruel as they might have been to his former lovers, bought him the advantage he needed. It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do to wait for the ambush – that was what happened in ambushes, after all – but these woman had been far from polite to him, and, as he attacked, he was looking forward to the revenge. To the fight. To releasing the anger he had felt for so long.

“You're a filthy liar! A slut!” one of them screamed at him as he blocked her blow.

“Disgusting slime! You shouldn't exist!”

He knocked that one to the ground. “Mother Aisha seemed to think otherwise, sister, so hold your tongue.” he retorted, elbowing another in the face. He'd trained a lot and learned a lot, and that was all that stood between him and defeat. He had started out outnumbered, but gradually, as he knocked out and injured the sisters that opposed him, that number dwindled until finally he punched the last of them in the sensitive spot just under her ribcage and left her there as she collapsed, gasping.

“Hybrids... don't belong here.” she managed, as he sheathed his blades and picked up his things. He began to walk away, back towards Andile and its market.

“Don't ye worry.” he said, his voice rough with anger, “I'll be leavin' soon enough.”