There was a strange transformation in the rangy, neurotic man—one that was certainly mental, but seemed in some queer way to change him physically, too. He no longer had an awkwardly-shaped skull and huge ears, but an almost handsome and angular face. The beads in his hair were no longer odd blobs of color amongst the brown, but decorations that swayed as he leaned over the instrument and seemed to tell a story of their own. There was no stuttering or stammering in the way his hands moved, and he was confident with himself, just another Tribesman instead of the outsider he believed himself to be.
He pounded away on the skin, never managing to make his hands sore, until an interruption came. His rhythm was thrown as he came back to reality, his big ears folding back as he looked sidelong at the newcomer. He reclaimed the beat she’d complimented, but the sound was quieter now—had a tinge of the shyness that was obvious in his demeanor. “Um, thank you,” he answered in English, taking cue from her use of the language. After she introduced herself, he was silent, using the moment to drum and take in her appearance—strangely patterned and absolutely dainty.
“I’m Unatsi,” the farmer responded after a while, his lips twitching in the semblance of a smile; he decided for once to give his shortened name rather than trip over himself apologizing for the full, intimidating thing. “I uh—” he went on, but noticed another figure out of the corner of his eye, a wolf that almost looked unfamiliar until he matched the scent to the yet-unseen form the fellow was in.
“Osiyo, Anatole!” Unatsikanogeni called, desperately latching onto someone that he knew to stay anchored. He noted the other’s posture and tried to smile again, managing a bit of a bigger one this time. “Hey, come on over here if you want—this is Sigh, and she’s—she’s new, I take it you’re new, right? Unless I’ve just been blindly oblivious to you, which I doubt, since your fur is absolutely queer, I mean—I mean no offense, it’s nice, it’s just so strange and—” His drumming became erratic then stopped, and he rubbed between his eyes with thumb and index finger, stifling a groan.
Word Count → 385
Man, I'm so sorry for the wait. x__x;
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