“Are you going to threaten to kill me again?” Kre asked. He meant it in a half-joking way, or at least he hoped it would be taken that way. In all honestly, the grinning Ylveryan terrified him. Perhaps it was the way that Kersath smiled, with a curling of his lips that revealed his sharp teeth, or perhaps it was the strangeness of his eyes that seemed to indicate that he was no stranger to death.
“If that is what you want, I can,” came the deadpan response. “Although I think you might more prefer that I offer you dinner instead.”
“Dinner?”
“You have heard of it, no? It is food, often delicious and filling, that you consume in the evening time to tide you over until the overnight fast is broken. Even you wasiqa should know of this concept.”
“Wah-seeka?” Yet another strange Ylveryan word that he could not quite make his mouth form despite having just heard it spoken aloud.
Kersath nodded, “It is a term for you Tehynshins. I figure if you will continue calling the rest of us by your own insulting words, we should get to do the same. Fair, no?”
“I’m not doing it on purpose, you know,” Kre snapped back, the fury he felt a few minutes prior coming back and causing his face to flush red with the anger he had felt then.
“Are you not?” His face was serious, and his oddly colored eyes seemed to glow in the fading light. “You seem to put very little effort into the learning of the world and instead spend all your time reacting poorly to every new thing that comes your way.
“I have not known you long,” the moon tribesman continued, “but I shall share some advice with you. In my language, we would say mallagi jahne cienghala.” He tapped a long dark finger on Kre’s forehead, “Essentially, use this more in place of speaking.”
His advice done, Kersath wrapped his arm around Kre’s shoulders and gently tugged him in the direction of the campfire. “Now come and eat. Meet the others and offer these words of apology.” He offered a short phrase that seemed to consist more of guttural and abrupt sounds than actual words, but he assured Kre that it would go far to mend bridges.
After hearing Kre practice the phrase a few times, Kersath pronounced it good enough and led the younger man over to the campfire where the others were already eating. Kersath gently pushed him forward as they came within the warmth of the fire.
Kre took a deep breath and expelled it all at once in a rush of words in the strange language Kersath taught him. “Erghh ahn foo foo hee raggh mee do meedo.”
Eyes turned to face him as mouths fell open. The clattering of a metal utensil tumbling onto someone’s dish seemed to echo through the clearing.
“Son,” one of the gruff men started, his own lips twitching up into a smile he tried hard to hide, “do ye know what ye be saying?”
Kersath, seemingly unable to hold it in any longer, burst out into raucous laughter. Others soon joined in and Kre found himself thankful for it being nearing nightfall as the redness of his face was thoroughly hidden from view.