Glancing at him, I thought I saw a shadow cross his features. It didn't seem possible Batu had even more depth than I suspected last night. I was more curious about him after his great grandmother's tale about his disappearance.
Catching myself staring, I left the barrel to retrieve my arrows. I collected them all and returned. Suvdin's attention was on Batu; his focus, however, was on me. They were talking quietly.
Ghoajin appeared from behind a nearby tent, trailed by her entourage. "Batu!" she barked.
"Yes, grandmother," he said, a trace of a smile on his features.
I grinned, loving her abruptness with the men of her family.
"We must talk."
He moved away from Suvdin to attend his grandmother.
"I love Ghoajin," I told Suvdin. "She yelled at her husband like that, too."
"She is a strong woman," Suvdin agreed. "Are you comfortable here? Batu has said this is not your world and the bow seems to frustrate you."
"I am, thank you. I want to fit in."
"The Empire welcomes everyone. You do not need to change who you are, Moonbeam. Your gifts are such that they support the Empire and its people."
Every once in a while, when someone said Empire, I envisioned spaceship battles from Star Wars. This empire seemed more forgiving than Darth Vader or the Emperor, though I suspected life as a slave wasn't the greatest.
"Batu says you are to stay here for a short time. You will be welcomed to return at any time."
"Thanks," I murmured. "I don't know what his plans are. It's apparent I can't go anywhere without him." I waved towards the targets. "I'd starve in a day."
Suvdin ducked her head with another smile. "He will take care of you. He is a good man." The wistfulness was back. I applauded her silently for not seeming jealous, though maybe she understood my relationship with Batu wasn't what hers would've been, had they married. I was a ward, not a wife. "It is time for Ghoajin to rest."
Suvdin moved away from me, towards the gaunt, tiny figure lecturing her much larger great grandson. The families were close, loyal and interconnected. I imagined the probability of survival was higher in a community such as this. It was different than the more independent way of life I was accustomed to. There was no driving out of town to visit friends or family without knowing how to hunt or fend for myself during the time I was gone.
I was slowly puzzling through how to make it here. A tremor of fear and uncertainty slid through me at the thought of never seeing home again. It was a lot to let go of, and I didn't know exactly how to release my past or my hope of seeing home one day.