Tracou remained with the Zeibr until his back recovered, which took several days. In that time, Tracou had dealt with more children than he ever had previously. Everyone had to contribute if they wanted to eat and he was in no position to go hunting. Those who didn't hunt could go foraging, which required knowledge of the local fauna that Tracou didn't possess. He had always relied on Serpouhi to know what kind of herbs did what. So, like Skender, he was stuck at the encampment watching children.
The work wasn't terribly difficult, but it wasn't enjoyable either. He had to keep an eye on certain children at all times or they would start eating things that weren't edible. Unlike Skender, Tracou couldn't chide them in a way they understood, so he had to physically stop them from doing anything dangerous. Some of the children were rather aggressive for being so small and liked to hit others, which had to be stopped as well. Their ages ranged from infants, which was Tracou's least favorite age to deal with, to around five years old. After that, they could join the foragers. Those who wanted to join the hunting party had to wait until puberty.
Things got much better around sundown when the rest of the group returned.
The others were friendly, but distant, which was to be expected when Tracou didn't understand a word of what they were saying. The majority of his interactions were with Skender and Vanya. Despite the language barrier, Vanya spent a lot of time with him. Whenever the hunting and foraging parties returned, Vanya would suddenly appear at his side, chattering away. Sometimes, when Vanya got tired of babbling, he tried to teach Tracou Zeibr words. He would point to something, say the word, and then look at Tracou expectantly. The sounds were difficult for Tracou to make, so it took a few tries for him to get the word to an acceptable level. Having a child around ten or eleven repeat what he clearly thought was a simple word over and over until Tracou got it right was humiliating. Often, Tracou would get up to take a walk just to get away from it.
On his sixth morning with the Zeibr, Tracou slipped out of the tent at sunrise like he always did. Most of the people in the camp got up at that time, which was both good and bad. If they had been like Mirthal, he would have had time to himself. But this way he couldn't wake anyone up by accident so there was at least that.
Tentatively, Tracou stretched his back. The pain had dulled considerably.
As he waited for breakfast, Tracou sat staring at the sunrise. He should head towards that sunrise soon. The Zeibr had been kind to him, but he couldn't stay with them forever.
Grass rustled behind him, sounding like a creature was stomping around. He turned around, expecting a child, only to find a dove peering at him. Slowly, Tracou moved his entire body so he was facing the dove. It didn't run away or look the least bit startled.
The dove took a hop towards Tracou, paused, then hopped again. Tracou watched this, eyes wide. Soon the dove made its way to Tracou and hopped onto his leg. It leaned down towards Tracou's hand, towards the mark Mirthal had left on him.
This wasn't normal animal behavior. This had to be someone's familiar, but he didn't know anyone who used a dove. There was usually a faint link between a familiar and the dezmek who was connected to it, but he didn't feel anything.
Tracou jolted upright, knocking the dove off of him. The dove could have been an elf's familiar. And if it belonged to an elf, it might have been Pendaer's. He didn't know if elves could use this kind of magic, but if they could then he didn't want to deal with it.
Unless, of course, it was Mirthal's.
The dove fluffed up its pure white feathers, annoyed at the rude treatment, but hadn't flown away. It stood in the grass, just watching.
If Mirthal had a familiar, he might pick a dove. He had wanted white horses for some reason. But he couldn't rule out Pendaer, who could have chosen a dove for a reason Tracou could never begin to understand.
Tracou tried to shoo the bird away. For a moment, even kicking in its general direction did nothing, but it did fly away eventually.
That bird couldn't have been a good omen. He needed to leave. Now. Because it was still early in the morning, Ataman and the others hadn't left yet. Tracou told Skender that he planned to leave and Skender conveyed his desire to Ataman. The daily hunting and foraging parties left Ataman, Vanya, and Yulia behind so they could assist Tracou.
Apparently Ataman and the others had been preparing for his departure for a few days because they had a horse for him already picked out and a bag of supplies ready for him. In lieu of a saddle, they put a blanket over the horse's back.
The horse was an old work horse, large and sturdy. It seemed silly to give Tracou a horse so big, but it might have been the only one they could spare.
Only Skender, Yulia, Vanya, and Ataman came to say goodbye to him. Tracou didn't know anyone else, so that suited him just fine.
Vanya had a lot to say. He went on and on, making elaborate gestures, and Skender could only translate bits and pieces in between the boy's breaths. From what Tracou understood, Vanya was telling him to avoid anyone who would put a chain around his neck—unnecessary advice.
Once Vanya was finished, Yulia handed Tracou the bag of supplies.
"Gift for you," she said in Dezmerian. Her eyes flitted toward Skender, who nodded. They must have rehearsed this. "Go home quickly!"
Tracou took the bag. "Thank you. I will."
"Before you go, Tracou," Skender began, eyebrows knitted together. "Ataman wants you to know that he would prefer you stay here. He's worried you'll... never make it home."
That wasn't surprising. He had quite a distance to cover, but once he was within Dezmer he should be safe.
"I have to go home," Tracou said, eyes on Ataman.
After the translation, Ataman nodded. He then approached Tracou and handed him a knife. The handle was made from white bone and the blade was the same kind of black, shimmering rock that made up the mace Ataman had. It looked sharp. Ataman said something, going on for a few minutes, presumably about the knife and how to use it.
"He wants you to know that you need to defend yourself, even if you're weak," Skender explained. "You should use that knife if you're in trouble. Stab downwards."
The last bit of that translation seemed a little abrupt. Ataman had said a lot more, but Skender must not have deemed it relevant to Tracou. Skender had been doing a lot of translating for him the past few days so he was probably tired.
"Okay..." Tracou eyed the knife again. Using a knife to hurt someone was not a very dezmek thing to do, but he didn't have his wand. He did need some kind of protection. "Tell them that I'm grateful to everyone, even the Zeibr who I don't know."
Skender conveyed this to the group. Grinning, Ataman ruffled Tracou's hair, making him pout. He wasn't a child.
They helped him onto the horse—despite it being unnecessary—and he was off.
East. If he went far enough east, he would get home. He would return to his duties and, possibly, to an empty house. Serpouhi might have gotten married while he was away.
That was still better than what he had been doing before. He would have to wait a decade and then he could visit Mirthal. Surely then he would get his wand back.
The land of the Zeibr was flat, with clumps of grass among the dirt as opposed to a vast, green carpet. From what he had learned from Skender, most Zeibran land was uncultivated and unoccupied. It certainly felt that way now—he couldn't see anyone in any direction. At most, he saw a herd of deer, who fled as he passed by them. The sun beat down on him, even though it should be fall.
Tracou rode most of the day, only stopping occasionally to let the horse rest. Riding a horse was fun for a little while, but as the day dragged on he was already missing his wagon. He couldn't do much to entertain himself, either. This, paired with the heat, made traveling miserable.
As the sky started to turn pink, Tracou began to feel uneasy, like there were eyes on him. But no matter how many times he whirled around in his seat, he didn't see anyone. Even the sky was empty.
It was unpleasant. Tracou forced his horse into more of a trot, hoping to get away from the feeling.
He set up camp near a tree. There wasn't anywhere he could hide, so he tried to ignore the fact that he was stupidly exposed as best as he could. He distracted himself by cooking some of the meat the Zeibr had included with his supplies.
Getting to sleep was difficult because he jumped at everything, even at things that weren't there. But making it this far had taken a lot out of him and, once he let his guard down for just a moment, he fell into a deep sleep.