MOUSSEY surrendered. In his eyes, fear mixed with newfound respect. Around them, the few apprentices who had witnessed the scene looked at ZE-RAK differently. The whispers were no longer the same—less mockery, more fear mixed with incomprehension.
MASSI announced the end of the lesson shortly after.
"Alright,we'll stop here for today. Go eat. The spirituality lesson will start earlier. And it's important to go to the canteen before."
This announcement brought palpable relief among the apprentices, who had only eaten soups and light foods for several days.
MASSI approached ZE-RAK.
"Take MOUSSEY to get checked before the spirituality lesson."
ZE-RAK nodded without protest.
--
On the way to the infirmary, MOUSSEY broke the silence.
"So,how does it feel?"
ZE-RAK looked at him, impassive.
"Huh?!"
"You thought I couldn't be your opponent. But I still pushed you to your limit. Even if you won in the end."
ZE-RAK stared at him for a moment before answering.
"It's true you have a stronger physique than me.But that's all."
"So you admit I'm your rival!"
The discussion was starting to tire ZE-RAK.
"Yeah,yeah, you're my rival."
Internally, he sneered. My rival? It was just starting to get interesting and you couldn't even breathe. And besides, I didn't even use my imaginary world. Otherwise, you wouldn't have even been able to touch me.
"Since your fight with instructor MASSI, I knew you were really strong, and today, you touched him easily too. From now on, you are my only rival."
ZE-RAK looked at him like one looks at an enthusiastic child.
"Didn't I already tell you that you don't know how to evaluate your opponent's strength?"
"Yes, why?"
"I think you underestimate an intermediate-rank hunter too much. Even novices, below the intermediate rank, would have trouble touching an intermediate even if he's only half-serious."
MOUSSEY looked surprised.
"What?Really? The novice rank is the one above us, the apprentices. So if that's the case, I wonder how strong an Elder can be..."
ZE-RAK lowered his eyes, a shadow passing over his face. The Elder rank... Just one rank above intermediate, but completely different. I remember when father refused to train me, I tried to see him hunt in my imaginary world to learn from him. But nothing. I never saw him. Not a trace, not a shadow. Just nothing. And shivers ran through me like a warning.
MOUSSEY continued, regaining his enthusiasm.
"Anyway,from now on, you are my rival! That's what a man is. A real one."
"Alright, I think you can go get treated alone. No?"
"Huh, no no. I'm in so much pain. My arm is still numb. I even think it's broken. How..."
"Fine, I get it. Then shut up."
--
The door to the treatment hut creaked open, revealing the familiar smell of medicinal herbs.
TINA looked up and her hands froze for a second when she recognized who was standing at the threshold.
"You again?"
ZE-RAK helped MOUSSEY lie down on the pallet without answering. He simply shook his head.
"No,not me. But him. He took a bad hit. And on the way, he fainted. Can you do something?"
TINA was already approaching, examining MOUSSEY with sure gestures.
"Leave it to me."
She crouched, beginning her work. ZE-RAK stepped back against the wall, crossing his arms. He remained silent, watching TINA's every move with his eyes.
For long minutes, she massaged, applied an ointment, and bandaged the arm with an efficiency bordering on art. Then she took a small mortar, threw in a handful of dried green leaves—Kpatima—and crushed them briskly.
"This should wake him up," she murmured, more to herself than to ZE-RAK.
She brought the powder close to MOUSSEY's nostrils. A shudder ran through the boy's body, followed by a loud sneeze. MOUSSEY blinked, groggy but conscious, and began to whimper softly.
TINA gave a small, satisfied smile. Then, almost mechanically, she turned to ZE-RAK, who was watching, motionless.
"And you?" she asked, holding out the mortar to him which still contained a little residual powder. "You look tense. A little Kpatima to clear your head?"
It was an innocent offering, a test disguised as a gesture of goodwill.
ZE-RAK looked at the green powder, then at TINA's face. His expression didn't change. He simply leaned his head forward, offering his nostrils without a word.
TINA brought the mortar closer. The fine, volatile powder floated in the air between them. ZE-RAK breathed deeply.
Nothing.
Not a flinch. Not a flicker of an eyelash. His lungs absorbed the air without the slightest reaction.
TINA slowly lowered the mortar, her professional smile fading to reveal unconcealed fascination. Her eyes met ZE-RAK's, and this time, he didn't look away.
"I told you," he said simply. His tone was neutral, but there was a glint of challenge in his eyes.
"Yes. You told me," she admitted in a low voice. She set the mortar down. "MOUSSEY needs to rest. We can talk outside."
Outside, the sun was warm. TINA crossed her arms over her chest.
"He'll recover.It was a stupid thing, but nothing serious." She paused. "You, on the other hand..."
ZE-RAK stood straight facing the breeze.
"Me,I'm fine."
"That's not what I meant. Last time, it was you. This time, you're carrying another. You're collecting debts to my pharmacy, ZE-RAK."
He turned his head towards her.
"I'll pay later. In furs. In Hottikui. Whatever you want."
Hottikui (cowrie shells), considered the tears of water spirits, serve as currency in the ZORA tribe and also in divinations. One must be blessed by the water spirits to find one. In the ZORA tribe, it's at the KPIME waterfall.
"I'm not talking about currency." She took a step closer, her healer's seriousness returning. "I'm talking about you. There's something strange about you. I'm sure of it. And I have the feeling it's isolating you. One day, you might need to smell the Kpatima. To need help. Really."
ZE-RAK remained silent. TINA's words resonated with an uncomfortable truth.
"Why are you telling me this?" he finally asked.
"Because it's my duty to heal. And I can't heal what I don't understand." She made a vague gesture towards the hut. "And because you're the only patient who comes in here without really needing me. It's... frustrating."
He looked at her, really looked at her, and for the first time, he saw beyond the competent healer—a young, intelligent, observant woman, and perhaps as alone as he was in her own way.
"Maybe I don't really need to be healed," he said finally.
A smile found its way back to TINA's lips, softer this time.
"Everyone needs healing,one day or another. Even you. When that day comes, remember that this door isn't locked."
On these words, she went back into the hut, leaving him alone with the weight of her promise and the troubling echo of his own mysteries.
--
The canteen was filling with the metallic clatter of trays and the muffled murmurs of the apprentices. They all looked weary, their muscles sore from the morning training. In their eyes, you could read the feverish anticipation of the meal.
But when the doors opened, it wasn't the smell of a dish that greeted them.
Wooden crates were dropped noisily in the center of the room. Oranges. Dozens, hundreds of oranges, their bright color bursting like a provocation in the gray room.
An awkward silence fell. Then protests erupted.
"This is our meal today?!"
"You're making fun of us!"
"This is even worse than yesterday!"
"We're not animals to be fattened with fruit!"
ZE-RAK, however, didn't speak. He approached, took an orange, and peeled it slowly. The peel yielded under his fingers, releasing an acidic scent that turned his stomach. He bit into it mechanically. The juice ran down his fingers, sticky, bitter despite the sugary sweetness.
Around him, some devoured the fruits greedily, too hungry to think. Others shot looks full of resentment.
ZE-RAK swallowed a second orange. Then a third. His stomach, initially relieved, began to twist. Yet, he continued until an unpleasant heaviness invaded him.
He stood up without a word while his comrades continued to protest. His footsteps echoed softly on the floor as he pushed the door to go out.
Outside, the air was lighter. Looking for a secluded spot, he ended up settling under an isolated tree, far from the canteen's tumult.
He sat in the shade, his back against the rough bark. His still-sticky hands reminded him of the bitterness of the oranges. But he closed his eyes. For a moment, he didn't want to think about anything anymore.
The next lesson was approaching. He only needed one thing now: a brief rest, a fragile parenthesis in this seemingly endless day.