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Some may have considered a spear a poor gift to represent friendship and peace between to settlements, but Nayati saw no problem with it. Besides, it was not the spear of a warrior, but that of a hunter. These spears were made and intended to help provide food to the tribe and keep them strong and healthy. To him, even if it weren't going to be used, it seemed a fine representation of what he meant it to be. It showed that AniWaya wished good food and strong bodies to those of Crimson Dreams. There were few better wishes that one group of wolves could have for another he thought. Without food, they could not survive, none of them. Food was the linchpin of everything else. Without it there was nothing. This was one of the reasons he had chosen the path of the hunter.
While he worked and talked, his focus was on the spear and his gaze did not waver from that objective, but as she spoke of how large the house was that she lived in his hand paused and he looked at her astonished. "That large?" It was a difficult concept for the man to wrap his mind around. He had never heard of a such a massive structure before. Well, outside of Anatoliy telling him of the city, which was something he was still very skeptical of. Things the humans had left behind held an odd place in his thoughts. Nayati did not fear them, but something just seemed wrong about them. He couldn't say exactly what. "I cannot even imagine a place so large." It seemed unreal to him, and that told him it was no doubt something that the ill race had left. He did not judge Anu for using it, but he knew he could never live in such a structure.
Setting his mind back to the task he had set himself about, he continued to wrap the leather and add the feathers to the hunting implement. There wasn't much left and soon all the cardinal feathers had been used and he was tying a knot in the leather to keep it securely strongly. Once done with that, his pale blue gaze searched around for any red berries he could use to stain the shaft of the spear. Spying some, he quickly got up and gathered a handful or two of the fruit before returning. Smashing a few in his hand, he began to rub the juices onto the wood. It wouldn't be as effective as properly made paint would, but it would give the wood a red sheen. "Not everyone here, only a few of us are from the Great Tribe. Our chief, Dawali, is one. His daughter Asha is the other. I have known them my whole life." He couldn't help but smile as he spoke of the Amaras, especially of Asha.
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