Naci and Temej make their way back to the Alinkar settlement, the caught hare swinging gently from Temej’s saddle. The sky is a canvas of deep blues and golden hues as the day begins to lean towards evening. The settlement comes alive with the sounds of children playing and adults engaging in jovial conversation as they go about their evening routines.
Horohan stands at the outskirts of the settlement, in silent anticipation against the bustling background. As they approach, a teasing smile curls on his lips, already having a pretty good hunch about the outcome of their playful competition.
Naci dismounts with a graceful yet somewhat resigned fluidity, her face a canvas of mixed emotions. The dual feelings of disappointment at her loss and awe at Sartak’s abilities wrestle visibly in her expressive eyes.
Stepping forward, her hands animatedly recount the adventure, the chagrin clear in her tone as she relives the moments of the chase. “I have to admit, Sartak is something else. The way he spotted and caught that hare was … incredible.”
Temej follows suit, alighting from his horse with a proud yet humble grin, Sartak majestically perched on his arm. He shares a look with Horohan, the sparkle in his eyes revealing a deep-seated pride in his eagle’s prowess, a pride mirrored in Horohan’s appreciative nod.
The conversation shifts gears as Naci, now pacing slightly, hands on her hips, makes a spirited declaration, “You know what, I am going to get an eagle of my own! I refuse to be outdone by a bird, no matter how majestic.”
Horohan, leaning back, crosses his arms, his posture slightly aloof yet with a clear affection shimmering in his eyes as he watches Naci. There’s amusement in his stance, a silent chuckle hidden in the slight upturn of his lips. His eyes, momentarily distant, refocus as he absorbs her vibrant energy, finding her determination both cute and somewhat endearing.
Amidst the chatter and merry-making, a deep, resonant voice suddenly silences the crowd. All heads turn, seeking the source of the command, and eyes settle on the Alinkar chieftain, Horohan’s father, standing tall and proud.
The newlyweds, are taken by surprise as the chieftain beckons them forward, placing them squarely at the center of attention. There’s a touch of nervous anticipation in Naci’s eyes, unfamiliar with the customs of her new home, while Horohan stands a touch straighter, ever the respectful son.
“People of Alinkar,” he begins, “today, our family has grown. We have not only welcomed a new bride into our midst but also embraced a union that promises a future of strength and prosperity.”
He turns his gaze to Naci, his eyes softening with paternal warmth. “Naci, daughter of the Jabliu, with your spirit, courage, and determination, you have already shown that you carry the heart of a true Alinkar. Together, you and Horohan represent the dawning of a new era for our clan. To Naci and Horohan,” he proclaims, “May your days be filled with joy, your nights with dreams, and your life with love.”
As one, the rest of the settlement joins in a resounding chorus, echoing the chieftain’s sentiments. “To Naci and Horohan!” they chant, their voices carrying the weight of genuine affection.
Temej, recognizing the familiar ritualistic undertone of the moment, smirks, mischief evident in his youthful eyes. Leaning into Naci, he whispers, “You might want to prepare yourself for some of our … traditional welcomes.” Straightening up, he adds, louder this time, “I’ll leave for today. Remember, Naci, come see me tomorrow morning for your eagle.” With a wink, he gracefully turns.
However, before either can process or react, a whirlwind of color and laughter descends upon them. A boisterous group of Alinkar women, among them the vibrant figures of Ailana and Sarnai, sweep in. With animated chatter and bursts of laughter, they seize Naci’s hands, gently but insistently pulling her toward one of the larger yurts.
The yurt’s entrance flaps are pushed aside to reveal a warm and aromatic haven. Inside, a rich tapestry of scents wafts through the air—roasted mutton, rests from yesterday’s celebrations. The amber glow from the central fire casts flickering shadows.
The women gather around Naci in an almost semicircular fashion, their faces eager and their eyes wide with curiosity. The atmosphere in the yurt is both festive and intense, a mix of genuine interest and playful prodding. Sarnai, a vibrant force of nature with a mischievous grin, is the first to speak, nudging Naci gently.
“So, dear Naci, tell us, what do you think of our Alinkar ways? They must be quite different from the Jabliu traditions.”
Naci takes a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts amidst the overwhelming whirlwind of attention. “There are some similar things… But yes, there are differences from what I am used to.”
The conversation takes a more personal turn as another woman, her eyes twinkling with mischief, asks, “And our Horohan? What do you think of him? He’s always been a bit of an enigma to us.”
Feeling her cheeks heat up, Naci smiles wryly, “He’s … unique. There’s a depth to him, a layer beneath that aloof exterior. I’m still trying to figure him out.”
The atmosphere grows noticeably tenser, the unsaid question hanging in the air like a thick mist. Sarnai, ever the bold one, ventures forth, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “And, dear Naci … did the two of you … you know … fulfill the marital rites?”
A heavy silence descends upon the yurt. Naci feels her face flush even redder, the directness of the question catching her off guard. She stammers slightly, “That’s … that’s a private matter.”
Ailana, always one to push boundaries with a playful smirk, leans forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Come now, Naci. You’re among sisters here. We’ve all been through our own ceremonies. It’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? You can tell us.”
One of the younger women, with a teasing twinkle in her eye, giggles and adds, “Yes! Did he gift you with anything? An heirloom, perhaps?”
Another chimes in, “Did he serenade you under the moonlight? They say Horohan has a voice only a select few have heard.”
Yet another pipes up, slightly bolder in her inquiry, “Is he … gentle? I’ve always wondered about that.”
Naci feels the weight of their gazes, the intrusive nature of the questions bearing down on her. Her discomfort is palpable, and she tries to deflect, “Every couple has their own journey. Horohan and I are still discovering ours.”
Sarnai, sensing Naci’s increasing unease but unable to resist, asks, “What about children? The Alinkar clan could always use more young ones running around. Have you two discussed it?”
Ailana, not missing a beat, adds, “Yes! Can we expect little feet running around soon?”
The laughter and teasing grow louder, the atmosphere stifling in its intensity. Naci’s patience wears thin, her earlier warmth slowly giving way to distress. She tries once more to divert the conversation, “I appreciate the interest, but some things are best left unsaid.”
But before anyone can respond, another question, this one more pointed and barbed, cuts through. “Do you truly think you can fit in here, Naci? After all, for as long as the Tengr is old, Alinkar and Jabliu were like water and oil.”
The weight of the question, the doubt it casts, is the final straw for Naci. She feels trapped, the walls of the yurt closing in on her. Without a word, she rises abruptly. The fabric of the yurt’s entrance rustles as she pushes through it, leaving behind a trail of surprised gasps and murmured comments.
Naci’s footsteps, hesitant yet determined, lead her to the very edge of the Alinkar settlement. The natural curtain of tall grasses sways gently, creating a comforting barrier between her and the overwhelming events of the day. There, away from the hum of voices and prying eyes, she finds a solitary spot overlooking a tranquil stream. The water’s gentle burble and the symphony of chirping crickets provide a soothing backdrop to her tumultuous thoughts.
She sinks down, her fingers brushing the cool earth beneath her, and takes in a shuddering breath. The scents and sounds, so different from those of her Jabliu homeland, magnify her sense of alienation. A pang of homesickness tightens around her heart, and the memories of her past rise unbidden. The vibrant colors of Jabliu festivals, the warmth of her family, and the familiar landscapes of her childhood play before her eyes.
“Maybe … maybe I can go back to Jabliu tomorrow,” she whispers to herself, the thought both comforting and guilt-ridden. “Just for a little while. Just to see … to feel at home again.”
Lost in her contemplation, she doesn’t immediately notice the soft rustle of grass being trampled. It’s only when she hears the familiar whinny of Liara, her beloved horse, that she looks up in surprise.
Horohan stands a short distance away, holding Liara’s reins. His normally composed face is tinged with a touch of embarrassment. He clears his throat, looking everywhere but directly at Naci. “I, uh, thought you might want some company. Not me, of course,” he says, nodding towards the horse, “Liara.” Flustered, he quickly adds, “And, well … maybe I’d join the escaping party too.”
Naci, despite her emotional turmoil, can’t help but crack a small smile at his awkwardness. It’s a side of him she hasn’t seen before. She pats the ground next to her.
He hesitates for a brief moment before settling down beside her, still maintaining a small distance. The two sit in comfortable silence for a while, the natural ambiance of the environment surrounding them.
After a few moments, Naci murmurs, “I’m not used to all the … attention. Back in Jabliu, things were simpler. Here, it’s like I’m under a magnifying glass.”
Horohan nods, understanding her sentiment. “As the only heir of Alinkar, I’ve always been in the spotlight. Every step, every word, every action—watched, analyzed, judged.”
Naci considers this, thinking of her own brother. “I can’t fully understand, but in Jabliu, Dukar shouldered much of that for me.”
Horohan’s gaze is distant, and it’s clear he’s opening up, a vulnerability in his eyes. He always wished he had someone to share his burden with. He looks at Naci, his eyes searching hers. Admiring her features, he now realizes even more clearly that he had always wanted to open up to someone he could trust, and he feels inherently drawn towards her. Naci being charismatic, strong, and proud just happens to check all his cases. Naively, he hopes that she is someone he can trust, and that she will understand.
He hesitates, then gives up, “You see, there’s something I’ve never told anyone. I was born a girl, but I was raised as a man. My upbringing, the expectations, they were all crafted for the heir Alinkar needed. But inside, I always envied the other girls. When I spent time with the women of my clan, I dreamt of being one of them, laughing with them, sharing their experiences.”
Naci, surprised, turns to face him. “Horohan...”
He cuts her off, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and desperation. “It was that fear, Naci. The fear that you’d see this side of me and judge me. That’s why I kept my distance, why I secretly hoped you’d leave. It wasn’t about you, it was about me. And, I need to apologize. I’ve felt jealousy towards you, seeing how freely you live, how everyone admires you.”
For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The chirping of the crickets, the soft burble of the stream—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of them in their shared vulnerability.
Naci finds his confession amusing, but there’s a warmth in her eyes. “Horohan, we all have our battles. But opening up, that’s the first step to understanding and acceptance.”Naci takes a deep breath, choosing her words with care. The constant pressure of living up to the expectations set upon you is something she had never imagined, and her mind shivers at the idea of always walking on eggshells, afraid of making a wrong move, of not fitting the mold the clan has built for you.
She smiles wistfully. “The day I was told I’d be wedded off to someone from Alinkar, I was both excited and terrified. The thought of leaving everything I knew, my family, my home … was fun, but to be with someone I’d never met was daunting.” She pauses, biting her lower lip, “But there’s something I’ve never shared with anyone. Before it was customary or even right for me to do so, I saw your face.”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What do you mean?”
Naci looks down, feeling the weight of her confession, “I eavesdropped from my yurt in Jabliu. I managed to catch a glimpse of you before our formal meeting. And, believe it or not,” she said, her voice almost a chuckle, “the first reason I felt drawn to you was that, for a moment, I thought you were a woman. There was something so delicate, so graceful about your features.”
Naci’s gaze softens as she recalls their first encounter. “I still remember it so vividly, Horohan. The way you sat on your horse. Your hair, with those delicate silver bells, shimmered like a starry night. And your eyes,” she pauses, searching for the right words, “they held a depth I’d never seen before, like they contained centuries of stories.”
Horohan looks away, feeling vulnerable under her scrutiny.
Naci continues, “But what struck me most were the subtle battle scars on your skin. They spoke of someone who’s faced adversity, who’s battled both external enemies and internal demons. And the way you surveyed everything from atop the hill … it was like you owned the world.”
Horohan’s voice is almost a whisper, “But that was a façade, Naci… Do you wish I were like that? Like the woman you thought I was?”
Naci ponders over his question. After a moment, she replies, “Do you wish you were that woman? Would you like yourself more if you were?”
Horohan doesn’t have a response, his thoughts a whirlwind, so Naci fills the silence: “You are already that woman.”
His eyes, glossy and close to tears, meet Naci’s. “Would you still accept me … as a husband … if I were a woman?” he asks, his voice choked with emotion.
Naci meets his gaze unwaveringly, her voice firm and gentle. “I was only ever going to accept you if you were.”
Naci and Temej make their way back to the Alinkar settlement, the caught hare swinging gently from Temej’s saddle. The sky is a canvas of deep blues and golden hues as the day begins to lean towards evening. The settlement comes alive with the sounds of children playing and adults engaging in jovial conversation as they go about their evening routines.
Horohan stands at the outskirts of the settlement, in silent anticipation against the bustling background. As they approach, a teasing smile curls on his lips, already having a pretty good hunch about the outcome of their playful competition.
Naci dismounts with a graceful yet somewhat resigned fluidity, her face a canvas of mixed emotions. The dual feelings of disappointment at her loss and awe at Sartak’s abilities wrestle visibly in her expressive eyes.
Stepping forward, her hands animatedly recount the adventure, the chagrin clear in her tone as she relives the moments of the chase. “I have to admit, Sartak is something else. The way he spotted and caught that hare was … incredible.”
Temej follows suit, alighting from his horse with a proud yet humble grin, Sartak majestically perched on his arm. He shares a look with Horohan, the sparkle in his eyes revealing a deep-seated pride in his eagle’s prowess, a pride mirrored in Horohan’s appreciative nod.
The conversation shifts gears as Naci, now pacing slightly, hands on her hips, makes a spirited declaration, “You know what, I am going to get an eagle of my own! I refuse to be outdone by a bird, no matter how majestic.”
Horohan, leaning back, crosses his arms, his posture slightly aloof yet with a clear affection shimmering in his eyes as he watches Naci. There’s amusement in his stance, a silent chuckle hidden in the slight upturn of his lips. His eyes, momentarily distant, refocus as he absorbs her vibrant energy, finding her determination both cute and somewhat endearing.
Amidst the chatter and merry-making, a deep, resonant voice suddenly silences the crowd. All heads turn, seeking the source of the command, and eyes settle on the Alinkar chieftain, Horohan’s father, standing tall and proud.
The newlyweds, are taken by surprise as the chieftain beckons them forward, placing them squarely at the center of attention. There’s a touch of nervous anticipation in Naci’s eyes, unfamiliar with the customs of her new home, while Horohan stands a touch straighter, ever the respectful son.
“People of Alinkar,” he begins, “today, our family has grown. We have not only welcomed a new bride into our midst but also embraced a union that promises a future of strength and prosperity.”
He turns his gaze to Naci, his eyes softening with paternal warmth. “Naci, daughter of the Jabliu, with your spirit, courage, and determination, you have already shown that you carry the heart of a true Alinkar. Together, you and Horohan represent the dawning of a new era for our clan. To Naci and Horohan,” he proclaims, “May your days be filled with joy, your nights with dreams, and your life with love.”
As one, the rest of the settlement joins in a resounding chorus, echoing the chieftain’s sentiments. “To Naci and Horohan!” they chant, their voices carrying the weight of genuine affection.
Temej, recognizing the familiar ritualistic undertone of the moment, smirks, mischief evident in his youthful eyes. Leaning into Naci, he whispers, “You might want to prepare yourself for some of our … traditional welcomes.” Straightening up, he adds, louder this time, “I’ll leave for today. Remember, Naci, come see me tomorrow morning for your eagle.” With a wink, he gracefully turns.
However, before either can process or react, a whirlwind of color and laughter descends upon them. A boisterous group of Alinkar women, among them the vibrant figures of Ailana and Sarnai, sweep in. With animated chatter and bursts of laughter, they seize Naci’s hands, gently but insistently pulling her toward one of the larger yurts.
The yurt’s entrance flaps are pushed aside to reveal a warm and aromatic haven. Inside, a rich tapestry of scents wafts through the air—roasted mutton, rests from yesterday’s celebrations. The amber glow from the central fire casts flickering shadows.
The women gather around Naci in an almost semicircular fashion, their faces eager and their eyes wide with curiosity. The atmosphere in the yurt is both festive and intense, a mix of genuine interest and playful prodding. Sarnai, a vibrant force of nature with a mischievous grin, is the first to speak, nudging Naci gently.
“So, dear Naci, tell us, what do you think of our Alinkar ways? They must be quite different from the Jabliu traditions.”
Naci takes a deep breath, trying to collect her thoughts amidst the overwhelming whirlwind of attention. “There are some similar things… But yes, there are differences from what I am used to.”
The conversation takes a more personal turn as another woman, her eyes twinkling with mischief, asks, “And our Horohan? What do you think of him? He’s always been a bit of an enigma to us.”
Feeling her cheeks heat up, Naci smiles wryly, “He’s … unique. There’s a depth to him, a layer beneath that aloof exterior. I’m still trying to figure him out.”
The atmosphere grows noticeably tenser, the unsaid question hanging in the air like a thick mist. Sarnai, ever the bold one, ventures forth, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “And, dear Naci … did the two of you … you know … fulfill the marital rites?”
A heavy silence descends upon the yurt. Naci feels her face flush even redder, the directness of the question catching her off guard. She stammers slightly, “That’s … that’s a private matter.”
Ailana, always one to push boundaries with a playful smirk, leans forward, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Come now, Naci. You’re among sisters here. We’ve all been through our own ceremonies. It’s a rite of passage, isn’t it? You can tell us.”
One of the younger women, with a teasing twinkle in her eye, giggles and adds, “Yes! Did he gift you with anything? An heirloom, perhaps?”
Another chimes in, “Did he serenade you under the moonlight? They say Horohan has a voice only a select few have heard.”
Yet another pipes up, slightly bolder in her inquiry, “Is he … gentle? I’ve always wondered about that.”
Naci feels the weight of their gazes, the intrusive nature of the questions bearing down on her. Her discomfort is palpable, and she tries to deflect, “Every couple has their own journey. Horohan and I are still discovering ours.”
Sarnai, sensing Naci’s increasing unease but unable to resist, asks, “What about children? The Alinkar clan could always use more young ones running around. Have you two discussed it?”
Ailana, not missing a beat, adds, “Yes! Can we expect little feet running around soon?”
The laughter and teasing grow louder, the atmosphere stifling in its intensity. Naci’s patience wears thin, her earlier warmth slowly giving way to distress. She tries once more to divert the conversation, “I appreciate the interest, but some things are best left unsaid.”
But before anyone can respond, another question, this one more pointed and barbed, cuts through. “Do you truly think you can fit in here, Naci? After all, for as long as the Tengr is old, Alinkar and Jabliu were like water and oil.”
The weight of the question, the doubt it casts, is the final straw for Naci. She feels trapped, the walls of the yurt closing in on her. Without a word, she rises abruptly. The fabric of the yurt’s entrance rustles as she pushes through it, leaving behind a trail of surprised gasps and murmured comments.
Naci’s footsteps, hesitant yet determined, lead her to the very edge of the Alinkar settlement. The natural curtain of tall grasses sways gently, creating a comforting barrier between her and the overwhelming events of the day. There, away from the hum of voices and prying eyes, she finds a solitary spot overlooking a tranquil stream. The water’s gentle burble and the symphony of chirping crickets provide a soothing backdrop to her tumultuous thoughts.
She sinks down, her fingers brushing the cool earth beneath her, and takes in a shuddering breath. The scents and sounds, so different from those of her Jabliu homeland, magnify her sense of alienation. A pang of homesickness tightens around her heart, and the memories of her past rise unbidden. The vibrant colors of Jabliu festivals, the warmth of her family, and the familiar landscapes of her childhood play before her eyes.
“Maybe … maybe I can go back to Jabliu tomorrow,” she whispers to herself, the thought both comforting and guilt-ridden. “Just for a little while. Just to see … to feel at home again.”
Lost in her contemplation, she doesn’t immediately notice the soft rustle of grass being trampled. It’s only when she hears the familiar whinny of Liara, her beloved horse, that she looks up in surprise.
Horohan stands a short distance away, holding Liara’s reins. His normally composed face is tinged with a touch of embarrassment. He clears his throat, looking everywhere but directly at Naci. “I, uh, thought you might want some company. Not me, of course,” he says, nodding towards the horse, “Liara.” Flustered, he quickly adds, “And, well … maybe I’d join the escaping party too.”
Naci, despite her emotional turmoil, can’t help but crack a small smile at his awkwardness. It’s a side of him she hasn’t seen before. She pats the ground next to her.
He hesitates for a brief moment before settling down beside her, still maintaining a small distance. The two sit in comfortable silence for a while, the natural ambiance of the environment surrounding them.
After a few moments, Naci murmurs, “I’m not used to all the … attention. Back in Jabliu, things were simpler. Here, it’s like I’m under a magnifying glass.”
Horohan nods, understanding her sentiment. “As the only heir of Alinkar, I’ve always been in the spotlight. Every step, every word, every action—watched, analyzed, judged.”
Naci considers this, thinking of her own brother. “I can’t fully understand, but in Jabliu, Dukar shouldered much of that for me.”
Horohan’s gaze is distant, and it’s clear he’s opening up, a vulnerability in his eyes. He always wished he had someone to share his burden with. He looks at Naci, his eyes searching hers. Admiring her features, he now realizes even more clearly that he had always wanted to open up to someone he could trust, and he feels inherently drawn towards her. Naci being charismatic, strong, and proud just happens to check all his cases. Naively, he hopes that she is someone he can trust, and that she will understand.
He hesitates, then gives up, “You see, there’s something I’ve never told anyone. I was born a girl, but I was raised as a man. My upbringing, the expectations, they were all crafted for the heir Alinkar needed. But inside, I always envied the other girls. When I spent time with the women of my clan, I dreamt of being one of them, laughing with them, sharing their experiences.”
Naci, surprised, turns to face him. “Horohan...”
He cuts her off, his voice tinged with a mix of fear and desperation. “It was that fear, Naci. The fear that you’d see this side of me and judge me. That’s why I kept my distance, why I secretly hoped you’d leave. It wasn’t about you, it was about me. And, I need to apologize. I’ve felt jealousy towards you, seeing how freely you live, how everyone admires you.”
For a moment, the world seemed to pause. The chirping of the crickets, the soft burble of the stream—it all faded into the background, leaving just the two of them in their shared vulnerability.
Naci finds his confession amusing, but there’s a warmth in her eyes. “Horohan, we all have our battles. But opening up, that’s the first step to understanding and acceptance.”Naci takes a deep breath, choosing her words with care. The constant pressure of living up to the expectations set upon you is something she had never imagined, and her mind shivers at the idea of always walking on eggshells, afraid of making a wrong move, of not fitting the mold the clan has built for you.
She smiles wistfully. “The day I was told I’d be wedded off to someone from Alinkar, I was both excited and terrified. The thought of leaving everything I knew, my family, my home … was fun, but to be with someone I’d never met was daunting.” She pauses, biting her lower lip, “But there’s something I’ve never shared with anyone. Before it was customary or even right for me to do so, I saw your face.”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What do you mean?”
Naci looks down, feeling the weight of her confession, “I eavesdropped from my yurt in Jabliu. I managed to catch a glimpse of you before our formal meeting. And, believe it or not,” she said, her voice almost a chuckle, “the first reason I felt drawn to you was that, for a moment, I thought you were a woman. There was something so delicate, so graceful about your features.”
Naci’s gaze softens as she recalls their first encounter. “I still remember it so vividly, Horohan. The way you sat on your horse. Your hair, with those delicate silver bells, shimmered like a starry night. And your eyes,” she pauses, searching for the right words, “they held a depth I’d never seen before, like they contained centuries of stories.”
Horohan looks away, feeling vulnerable under her scrutiny.
Naci continues, “But what struck me most were the subtle battle scars on your skin. They spoke of someone who’s faced adversity, who’s battled both external enemies and internal demons. And the way you surveyed everything from atop the hill … it was like you owned the world.”
Horohan’s voice is almost a whisper, “But that was a façade, Naci… Do you wish I were like that? Like the woman you thought I was?”
Naci ponders over his question. After a moment, she replies, “Do you wish you were that woman? Would you like yourself more if you were?”
Horohan doesn’t have a response, his thoughts a whirlwind, so Naci fills the silence: “You are already that woman.”
His eyes, glossy and close to tears, meet Naci’s. “Would you still accept me … as a husband … if I were a woman?” he asks, his voice choked with emotion.
Naci meets his gaze unwaveringly, her voice firm and gentle. “I was only ever going to accept you if you were.”
