Outsider

Sometimes I wonder if the world doesn’t like people to get too comfortable. Is there some sort of karmic law that says that things have to get shaken up every few weeks or it will be the end times?

I’m getting ahead of myself.

Today was unsettling. It started off normal enough. Today was a lesson day, so after the morning chores were done and the adults had settled into their routines, the youngsters and I gathered under Kohric’s favorite tree to hear today’s teachings. We were only about fifteen minutes into the lesson, though, when a huge commotion erupted near the caves. There was a great deal of shouting; high pitched, angry words full of the chirping “kheet” syllables.

Kohric and several of the children all rocked back on their hind legs and stretched their necks to see what was going on. Eyani tugged at my sleeve, and I hiked him up on my shoulders for a better look.

Those clan members that had not gone out for the day were boiling out of their caves or dropping whatever chore they had in hand, and were moving to surround an Azu-nah I didn’t recognize. Their movements were harsh and jerky; tails were lashing, heads were waving side to side with aggression, and some individuals even had sticks or other objects in hand, and were brandishing them angrily.

My friends, the peaceful, curious, and accepting D’Keda people, had become an angry mob.

I’ve always thought that thing about the hair on the back of your neck rising was just some literary figure of speech. I’ve even seen people write what I just said in books, and figured it was just to get you into the mood of the story. No, it really does. It’s unnerving, like your body knows you’re in deep shit and your brain hasn’t quite figured it out yet.

Up on my shoulders, Eyani’s hands clenched, and I felt his claw tips digging into my skin. Kohric made a “tchaah” sound of disgust, and said the word “Khee’troch” (the “khee” part is chirped and almost impossible to say with a human larynx).

It wasn’t a word I’d learned yet, but now that I’d heard it I could pick it out in the shouts from the crowd as well. I moved to stand next to Kohric and set Eyani down on the ground. The youngsters were becoming agitated and began heading toward the rest of the mob. Kohric looped his tail around my bicep and pulled me along with him.

“What’s going on?” I asked. I was starting to get scared. The hair-standing-on-end feeling had expanded to that stomach-clenching kind of fear.

“Khee’troch,” he said, and added in English, “One who is—put out of the clans.”

“Outcast?” I said, “You threw him out of all the Azu-nah clans? Why?”

“A khee’troch is dangerous to the clans. He has done great wrong. He is poison.” Kohric’s neck was arched, and his stride was becoming stilted and angry like some of the others.

We joined the semi-circle of angry Azu-nah. They had formed a kind of living wall between the caves and the intruder, and were now shouting and brandishing things at him. The sick feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. How could a tribe of people welcome an alien into their midst with open arms, and then do this to one of their own? Even Kohric, so learned and rational, was bristling at this outsider. It was like seeing a university professor suddenly start beating his chest and howling like a gorilla.

The outsider looked pretty awful. He was rangy thin; much thinner than I’d ever seen any of the D’Keda folk. The bones of his tail stood out clearly, and his limbs were all wiry tendon and skin. His face was gaunt, and his mane looked dirty and unkempt. There was a livid yellow tattoo across each of his eyes; a violent, hook-like shape that crossed even his eyelids. His eyes terrified me. They practically burned. They glared around at everyone with such hate that I involuntarily took a step backward.

He boldly faced the crowd and barked once, simply, “I ask for food.”

D’Keda shouted back at him en mass, and a few individuals surged forward in short mock charges. They had their teeth bared. I took another step backward.



For just a moment his eyes turned toward me, burning with malice. I froze mid-step and gaped at him. His mouth parted and he made a breathy “haaaah” sort of half-hiss. For a horrible half second I thought he may attack me. But he turned his baleful gaze away, gave one last snarl toward the crowd, and then turned and fled.

I followed his example, and quickly ducked away in to my cave. I huddled in the corner so no one would see me inside, and shuddered.

The Azu-nah have always been kind and honest to me. Their worst fault is they’re overly curious and a little annoying. I’ve never, ever felt even the least threatened by them. They look so benign. But that one, the outcast… And the way they treated him. I’m not sure which scares me more.

I suddenly feel very, very alone.