The Ylveryans, understandably, did not see things the same way. Though much of the land that the Tehynshins eventually took was not land that the native people claimed to own or even cared to fight for, they still clashed over every little thing, almost as if they were continuously looking for reasons to fight each other.
Fighting just for the sake of being different. That was essentially the sum of it. It made for an impossible situation. Neither nation could ever emerge as a victor given the circumstances.
This history is what made it difficult for Kre to fathom this news that there was at least one settlement where the people of these two warring nations lived in peace.
“What is this place called? The village we’re headed to?” Kre asked.
Kitalia shrugged. “You place such silly emphasis on the importance of names. I suppose…” she trailed off a bit, a smile playing at the edge of her mouth, “you could say that it is called Red’s Place.”
“That’s an odd name for a village.”
“You are the one that calls it a village. It is decidedly not so. They are migrant, to avoid garnering too much attention.”
“And run by a guy named Red?” Kre countered with a smirk.
“Also,” Kitalia continued, ignoring the remark, “since we are on the topic of names, while we are there, please only refer to me as Daisy.”
“Daisy?”
There was no response from Kitalia. She simply rode on as if she hadn’t heard him.
Kre pondered the situation for a moment and was suddenly struck with a light-hearted thought. “Should I have a cool new nickname too? Maybe something like ‘Granite’ for my tough-as-nails attitude… or possibly ‘Stone Hands’ for my hard-hitting fisticuffs.”
“I am certain that an appropriate nickname for you will come to us in good time. It is customary to allow nicknames to form naturally, over time, rather than choosing them for oneself.”
“So,” he continued, trying to be coy about his clever way to bring the conversation back to his original question, “how did you earn the nickname Daisy?”
“Who is to say that Daisy is not my real name, and Kitalia is just a pretend name that I shared with you?”
“Well, you’re to say. That’s why I’m asking you.”
“Names are really of little importance. In my culture, we generally possess many different names and monikers during the course of our life. Your people do as well, but you fail to recognize that simple fact. You prefer to call us crazy or silly for what we do instead of looking inward and seeing the same behavior in yourselves.”
Kre’s face screwed up in puzzlement for a few moments, trying to make sense of her words. “I’m sorry Kital… er… Daisy, but I don’t understand how you mean?”
“What do your parents call you?” she asked without turning to look at him.
“Kre,” he replied simply.
“Do they always refer to you by your given name?”
“Well, no. Sometimes my dad will call me ‘boy’ or ‘kid’, even though I hate those terms. My mom will call me ‘Kre-bee’ sometimes,” he admitted, scrunching up his face. “I really hate that one. It’s so babyish.”
“And your friends. I assume they do not call you by the same terms that your parents use.”
Kre laughed, happy to think about his friends. “Sy rarely used my first name. She preferred terms like ‘sheep-boy’ or ‘The Great Foolish Wonder’.”
“And there you see that in every facet of your life, you use different names. Certainly, they are not your given name, but they are still names that others use to refer to you. Most times in your presence and with your awareness, but sometimes it can be done without your knowledge.
“That is similar to the different names that I have depending on who I am dealing with.”