"I need to learn to do things here," I said.
He lifted his catches. "Can you skin animals?"
The sight of blood, and the dead animals, dismayed me. I was an animal lover. I ate meat but I didn't think I could get through skinning a rabbit without breaking down into tears. "I can try," I said with a half-hearted shrug.
Batu laughed.
"There must be something I can do," I said, searching his features.
He tossed the animals beside the fire and approached, reclaiming his bow and the arrow I'd attempted to notch. "You are not meant for such labors, goddess."
"How will I survive? What if something happens to you?" I searched his face, frowning. His dark eyes took in my features. He reached out and tilted my chin to peer into my eyes then lifted my bad hand to inspect it. "I can't take care of myself the way everyone else here can."
"Everyone has a skill," he stated and released me. He appeared satisfied I was no longer ill. "Not everyone hunts. Not everyone tends the fire."
"You can do it all."
"I'm a warrior, ugly one. You are not."
I breathed out a puff of frustrated air. Batu stepped out of my personal space and went to the tree stump to sit and skin animals. "Then what is my skill to help us survive?"
"You entertain me."
"No, really, Batu!"
"We will discover it."
He didn't know either. I should've known this, but it still hurt a little to think he thought so little of me. "I'm totally lost."
"You are right here. How can you be lost?" With his back to me, I wasn't able to tell if he was messing with me or not.
"Because I don't belong here. I feel lost in every way."
"Then I will find you and remind you of where you are." This time, I heard the humor in his voice. "You cannot be lost if someone finds you, Moonbeam."
His logic defied me sometimes. I circled him to see him yanking the skin of rabbits with ease that left me a little sick to my stomach. It added to my sense of helplessness to control my fate or even whether I lived or died on a daily basis without his help.
"I can't stand it, Batu!" I nearly shouted.
He looked up at me.
"What am I supposed to be doing? Aren't I supposed to be … useful?" I demanded, uncertain how to explain I was having an existentialist crisis.
He lowered the rabbit in his hands. "I do not understand what you seek, goddess," he said, studying me. "You are angry, and I do not understand why."