No Hands but My Own

Chapter 21 - Acceptance

"I've been talking things over with Sle, Shira, and Gahnenal. We have decided that it's time to integrate you all completely into our clan." I stood, watching expressions flit along the line of faces before me.

Quala's hand wavered as she raised it. "Does that mean no more training?" Her voice was low with expectation.

"It means no more official classes. I still expect you to train -- and learn -- every day. "

She furrowed her brow, perplexed. "Then what's the point?"

Sle appeared, as if by magic, at my side. "The point is that we think you have been trained enough to survive. And we think that you are family. Now we're going to make it official."

Quala's mouth gaped in a O of surprise. "F-family?"

I smiled at her. "Well, we have all survived the past few weeks without any assassinations, so I think we're doing pretty well, don't you?"

Seolo smiled hesitantly back at me while Quala attempted to pick her slack jaw off the ground.  Ellerin blushed and grabbed wide-eyed Chael’s arm.

Gahnenal shook as he watched the little group. Finally, he couldn’t contain himself any longer. Gasping for breath, he laughed. “Your faces are all so priceless!”

A sudden flush spread across Quala’s broad face and her jaw snapped shut. “Can I talk to you in private, Canium?”

Surprised at her change in demeanour, I nodded and followed her into the woods, stepping through the thorny brush, until we were some distance away.

“Alright, Quala. That’s far enough. What’s going on?” I asked her stiff back.

Quala spun on her heel to face me and swallowed, her usual confident attitude was gone. “I can’t do this.”

“What? Why?”

Windmilling her hands in an effort to find the words, she sputtered, “Look, I know I’m -- but I just don’t see -- really? Family? -- But --”

I grabbed her arm and pushed my face close to hers, my fingers digging into the fleshiness of her arm. “Quala, calm down. You’re not making sense.”

Her tense body relaxed and a huge breath whooshed out, fanning against my face.  Quala swallowed a few times before the cords in her throat stopped standing out. When her eyes finally met mine, I released my grip, leaving white patches and dents in her skin.

“That’s it. Now, tell me what’s going on.” I smiled and sank to the ground, gesturing at a patch of grass beside me.

Quala sat down and began pulling at every blade of grass within her reach. Shifting her gaze from me to her crossed legs and back again every few moments, she said, “I’m not sure if I’d make a good family member.”

Perplexed, I grabbed one of her hands, halting its murderous rampage. “Why on earth would you ever think that?”

She sighed, “You know how I said I was Hapagornian?” She waited to see my nod before continuing, “Well, that was a lie.”

“So?” I shrugged.

“You don’t understand.” She licked her lips and gazed at me with fearful eyes, “I was never part of any clan. I’m a Straggler.” Her head sagged towards her chest, waiting in silence for her punishment to fall.

I sat, trying to process the weight of the confession placed before me.

Stragglers roamed the woods completely alone; either they or their ancestors had been banned from a clan for a grievous sin. Most often, they were murderers, rapists, and insane. They were unfit to live in a community and were often wild, violent, desperate, and very dangerous. It was not uncommon to hear of solo travellers going between clans never making it to their destination; their bodies would be found brutalized and robbed.