I almost laughed. “Because I made clothes for others, not myself. Cordage was hard to come by. I didn’t want to waste it.”
“We have heard little of human settlements,” Mirari said softly, surprising me. “We know there are many spread across Dakkar, but we hear tales of their disrespect to Kakkari, of their uprisings and violence.”
I sobered. “My village was peaceful. We were poor, but we were peaceful.”
Mirari made a sound in the back of her throat. “We all saw the black smoke the day theVorakkarbrought you here.”
“That was an accident.”
“How is setting fire to Kakkari an accident?” Mirari asked. Her tone wasn’t angry. It sounded like she simply wanted to understand. I was learning that despite her insistence that she was there to serve me, that she was there as mypiki, she spoke her mind. She wasn’t afraid to. I liked that about her.
“My brother set the fire,” I told her.
“Your brother? Yet theVorakkarbrought you in his stead?”
“I made a deal with him,” I said. That night seemed like so long ago. But it had only been a handful of days. “He spared my brother in return.”
“Why did your brother start the fire?” Mirari asked, watching me. “Burning our land, our Kakkari…it is the ultimate insult.”
“I know,” I whispered. “He knew too. But our village is on the verge of starving.”
Mirari blinked at the knowledge.
“He heard that burning the land for crops makes the soil healthier, makes the possibility for life greater. He was only trying to help our village, in his own foolish way.”
Mirari went quiet for a brief moment, watching me begin to stitch the hide after I threaded the needle.
Finally she said, “You said ‘our’ village. Not ‘their’ village.”
My needle stilled. “What?”
“Loyalty to the horde is a concept that is driven into all Dakkari, from a young age,” Mirari said softly.
“What are you saying?”
“That you hold onto your life, your past life when you should not.”
“It was my home,” I argued. “It was where I grew up, with my mother, with my brother.”
“You cannot be our trueMorakkariif you choose them over the horde,” Mirari said. “You were not born Dakkari, but you are Dakkari now. You have a responsibility to us now, to ourVorakkar.”
“You’re asking me to change my allegiance to him?”
“Nik, to us all,” Mirari said softly. “To thehorde.”
My lips parted as I argued, “It does not have to be ‘them’ versus ‘us.’” Mirari’s brow furrowed. “You have heard stories of humans? We have heard stories of Dakkari too, of terrible things. We cannot hunt, we cannot plant, we cannot forage. We cannot leave the area of our settlements though the land is dead. And if we do, we die. Weallshare this planet now. There does not have to be a division.”
“It is ourDothikkarwho has ultimate power over these matters,” she finally said, after a long silence. “There will always be division because of it.”
My shoulders slumped and I returned my eyes to the clothes, similar in style to the pants I’d made for Kivan a couple seasons ago.
“TheVorakkaris still a male, however,” Mirari said next, quietly.
Something in her tone made me look at her. “What do you mean?”
“Do you know of Drukkar?” Mirari asked.
I frowned. “No.”
