Rifiuto: Non Miriena

A/N: Bonus chapter. Written: 2012. Rewritten: 2014. Found: 2018.- Licia

Arjiki Encampment,

Thousand Year Grasslands,

Five Years Later

He could smell the smoke from the fires, hear the distant laughter of children.

They were sounds he'd never forgotten, glimpses of a life he'd never get to live, though he longed to. Even though he himself did not belong, he knew the women who did, they carried his blood in their veins, looked like he did; distinctly different, but no less loved or accepted within the tribe. They had married high in the tribe, as his father would say. One, after running away weeks before she officially became a woman, the other, in the tender years of childhood, after being taken from their wagon train that long ago day.

It was a day that seemed to be made of more than fantasy than reality, though such a reality was very, very real. For wagon trains still crossed through the Grasslands, hundreds of men, women and children headed for a better life in the new state of Munchkinland. And for the most part, the tribes left them alone, though on occasion, there was a skirmish, but it was never long or as terrifying as that day had been, back in the hot mid-June of eighteen-sixty-three. He'd been a scared child of eight, knew nothing of Indians except what had been published in the papers, had certainly never seen one, and had watched as his beloved older sister had been stolen away from them in a raid, to be sold to another tribe.

And she had thrived, in that tribe she had been sold to; married to the prince, she'd grown, not just into a woman, but as a wife and soon a mother, bearing three children before her twentieth birthday, completely assimilating into the tribe by the time she'd been stolen by the white man and brought back to 'civilization.' And she'd nearly died, those six days in the white man's world, kept from her family and her tribe.

Her return had been painful, for he'd had to leave her, turn around and return to a world that felt empty without his sisters, for his older sister had by then run off with the translator come to help them, searching for and finding the tribe the translator had grown up in; the same tribe their sister was a part of. He knew nothing of what had happened to them after, if his sisters were still alive, if they were happy and thriving. He'd thought of them constantly these five years on, before finally deciding he had the opportunity to search for them.

It was not to bring them back to the white world; it was simply to see them again, to know they were okay, to hug them and hear their voices.

He missed them, oh, how he missed them.

Gently, he tugged on the reigns of the horse. The wind blew gently, ruffling his hair and causing the smoke from the fires to change direction. From his place atop his horse, he could see children playing, people working. A gasp caused him to turn, and he looked up, finding a woman standing before him, dressed in buckskin, her hair in a loose braid over her shoulder. She looked to be a couple years older than he- he did not recognize her, but she had been the young woman sent to bring his sister back that day, the day the chief lay dieing- and after a moment, she turned, dropping the basket she carried and hurrying back to to the camp. "No! Wait!"

Instead of spurring the horse to go, he got down, pursing her on foot through the grasslands. Eventually, he skidded to a stop, unaware he was in the center of the village and soon the object of everyone's gaze. The woman he'd been pursuing had turned back, meeting his gaze, suddenly no longer afraid. "Candle?" But she ignored the little boy who had come up and tugged her hand, enthralled by the man's dark eyes. The boy then noticed him, and released her hand, hurrying away.

"Papa! Mama!"

As others in the village gathered around the white, someone stepped out of a nearby tent. The man strode towards him, and he had the decency to step back. The singular diamond in the center of his forehead signified his status, and he stopped feet from him. "Come osi attraversare la terra di Arjiki. Chi sei?"

He shook his head, unable to understand the man, when a voice broke in, behind the man who was clearly the chief. "Ti ho detto del suo arrivo, marito. Ho sognato la settimana scorsa di un uomo che sarebbe venuto a cercarci."

The woman who stepped forward clucked her tongue in disappointment, the gem that resided between her nose and upper lip sparking in the light as she spoke; it was evident, since they'd both seemingly come from the same tent, the way she spoke to him, that he was her husband. "Anche ora, queste molte lune più tardi, dopo che vi ho partoriti quattro figli e guidati al vostro fianco, ancora non mi credete quando vi dico di quello che ho sognato. Ti fidi del mio corpo più della mia mente; rimasto con me tutte queste lune, eppure, ancora, si sceglie di credere al consiglio su tua moglie. Colui che attacca per primo senza giusta causa morirà per ultimo."

The man had the decency to look guilty as she cast a pointed glare his way. "Sarai anche il capo, ma io sono il tuo capotess. Ho tanto ondeggiare quanto te. Siete sempre venuti da me prima di andare dal consiglio, eppure andate in consiglio invece di venire da me quando parlo di un uomo bianco che entra nelle praterie in cerca di noi." She turned from her husband, studying him. "Un uomo che mi somigli. Un uomo che viene con l'amore nel suo cuore, non l'inganno. Egli non vuole farci del male, semplicemente vederci. Perché siamo le sue sorelle, l'unica famiglia che gli è rimasta." She smiled softly at him now. "Ciao, fratello, è bello rivederti."

His heart constricted, as she moved past her husband, making her way towards him. He studied her, taking in her features, noting how she'd filled out more; he remembered a little Arjiki, and he managed to catch the words 'birth', 'four' and 'children'. Clearly, she'd borne another child at some point in the last five years; her already soft curves were much softer, giving her a more willowy shape, though her black hair was still long and pin straight. "Fae?"

The nickname he'd thought of that day they'd fled the Thropp house and come back to her tribe, the day they'd parted ways, was louder than the loudest drums, and she smiled, wrapping her arms around him. He buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in her scent. When finally, they broke apart, he turned to find another woman making her way towards him; round with child, her hair in a single plait down her back, she reached for him. He choked out a sob, "Nessa?"

The woman shook her head quickly. "Mulhama." She replied, embracing him. He gathered his older sister to him, being gentle of her belly. When finally, he pulled away, he simply asked,

"First?"

"Third." He looked up as the medicine man joined them, sliding an arm around his wife's waist. A smile tugged at his lips as he nodded to his brother-in-law. "It's good to see you again, Shell."