East

"I brought you this."

I folded my overtunic and place it in a trunk I had adopted as mine before returning to him curiously. He held out a small, velvet jewelry pouch. I took it, and Batu moved away to sit by the fire. I opened it and dumped the contents into my hand.

Moldavite. Two pieces the size of my thumbnail. "Oh, Batu," I murmured, uncertain what to say. I studied the glass. He had possessed a few pieces in the bag he showed me. For a moment, I debated asking if these were his or if he had gotten them elsewhere. They were a symbol of his honor and his clan. It was a more thoughtful gift than I was expecting, one I sensed conveyed some sort of great … honor, even if I wasn't certain why.

They meant something to me, too.

A normal person, one who didn't try to categorize the shade of brown of his eyes or breathe in as deeply as possible to smell his scent, would ask.

"Are these … yours?" I asked.

He shrugged.

"Batu!" I snapped.

He glanced up from his spot at the fire without responding. The question made him uncomfortable. I could see it in his face. Curious about what he was doing, I sat down beside him at the fire.

"You can ignore me, and I'll tell Ghoajin you're being mean, or you can tell me!" I threatened.

"Do they please you?" he asked.

"Yes, of course." I gazed at the roughened chunks so green, they were nearly black. "Very much," I added, unable to help the emotion that emerged whenever I saw Moldavite. "But I know what they mean to you."

"They are yours."

"So they were the ones you showed me."

"Yes, Moonbeam."

I met his gaze, touched by the gift. "It wasn't because I helped you in the plague tent, was it? Because you know, that was my duty." I deepened my voice for the last few words and did my best impersonation of him.

"Do you mock me, goddess?" he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Yes, I do. You don't accept my gratitude for your duty. I don't expect yours."

"It's not for the plague tent."

My heart skipped a beat. It felt like we were close to something, and I wasn't certain I wanted to push through the veneer to find out what that was. I glanced at the glass and lowered my hand.

"You do not ask why," he observed and tipped my chin up until we were face to face once more.

"I might know why."

"Tell me."

"You sold me off to someone at a trading post and this is your farewell gift," I said, seeking the most outlandish explanation to ease the tension between us.