Steph's Outcast

It's an obsession of mine, trying to fix people. Sometimes I tell myself if I'd had enough time, maybe I could have fixed my mother. If I'd understood her more, I could have helped. I didn't get to, though, so I channel all of that into my tribe.

And into Pak and Juth.

It doesn't matter if it takes ten more months or ten more years, I'm going to get the two outcasts to join us.

2

JUTH

Something is different with the sands on this day.

I crouch on the shore, running my hand through the pebbled grit. The texture is the same, but the color is…off, slightly. The greenish cast of the sands has a brighter hue to it, and I could swear that it feels warmer to the touch.

Which is foolishness. There is nothing warm about this land at all. The island of my home was a lush, tropical paradise with thick green trees and flowers and fruit-bearing bushes. The sands crawled with life of all kinds, from feathered creatures to long lizards to enormous bugs. It was never a problem to find something to eat. If the jungle did not provide it, the warm waters would.

But that place is gone. The only world we have left is this cold, bleak land full of rocks and ice.

The Outcast clan is gone, too. All that is left is myself and tiny, curious Pak, who needs so much. I have had to step in and be elder and father to him both, and some days, I do not feel prepared at all. But I will continue on, because that is what an Outcast does. We survive despite it all.

"Papa!" Pak comes running up to me, his black hair sticking up and his tufted, short tail wiggling with excitement. He holds something out for me to see. "Look at this!"

I expect it to be something useful, but it is only a pretty shell with brightly colored insides. A hint of a smile tugs at my mouth. "You are supposed to be fishing, my son. Remember? We must feed our hungry bellies."

"But there are no fishes in the water," he tells me. "I throw and throw my net, but nothing comes up." He moves closer to me, peering over my shoulder. "Is my shell pretty? Can I keep it?"

I bite back a hint of frustration. Pak is…not the son I would have chosen. I had always thought a son of mine would be as determined and stubborn as myself. Pak is not my child, though. His mother was Haal, the oldest in our small tribe, and a dreamer. Perhaps that is where he gets his inquisitive, distracted mind from. He has no patience for hunting or fishing. He loves colors and crafts and the songs that they sing on the beach, and it is difficult. If it were not the two of us, I would let him do as he pleases. It is only us, though. He must learn how to feed himself if anything should happen to me. I know he wants to play…but survival must come first.

So I bend down to the sand and rake my hand through it again. "You may keep the shell until it becomes too much to carry. Now, come look at this. Tell me what you notice about the sands."

He bends down, putting his much-smaller hand onto the beach in imitation of my movements. He picks up a bit and rubs it through his fingers, his small face thoughtful, and I am filled with fatherly pride. "It is warm and it feels different. Greasy."

Greasy?

Curious, I rake my fingers through it again. He is right. There is some sort of coating that feels warm to the touch. I grunt, both pleased that he has noticed such a thing and disturbed that I do not have the answer to this.

I am a hunter, and hunters do not like change. Change means less to eat. Pak is right that there are no fish. The normally teeming waters here on the icy shores are silent and empty. Even the annoying creatures with the tentacles that latch on to you and bite everywhere are gone.

Something is happening. But what?

I rub the sand between my fingers thoughtfully and then get to my feet. "Perhaps it is time for us to leave these shores."

Pak stands up, but his expression grows petulant. "I want to stay."

"Even when there is no fish and your belly is empty?"

He digs his toes into the sand, not looking up at me. "We could always eat the treats that the soft female brings us."

I scowl at this. "We have talked about this, Pak."

The little one sighs heavily, and for a moment, he sounds just like me. I have to bite back my amusement. "I know, I know. We cannot take their gifts because they will want something in return. We cannot eat their food because it will make us grow lazy. We are Outcast clan, and we can depend on no one but ourselves."