It wasn’t as if the tribe had managed to make an impression on him yet; Anatole had met the group once, and found them to be a peculiar lot. All dressed up and dancing like that, it was stupid. Yes, stupid and pointless. His mother had participated out of duty, whereas her son didn’t want to be the odd man out. Heaven forbid one of those crazy wolves try and get him to dance. No sir, there would be none of that. He was too proud to look foolish in front of a group of people like that. Anatole wanted to be respected, not made to look like a fool.
Anatole found that this other boy, Atilla, was neither intimidated nor unafraid. Good. If he had been, there would have been no point in them having this conversation. The older boy looked up, echoed about being bored, and the dark youth smiled flatly. Of course he was. “Got back, eh? Where’d you go?” If the boy had been born here (given by his ‘back’ statement), then maybe he hadn’t really seen much of the world. Certainly, Anatole hadn’t either, but he considered living over the mountains a greater distance then this peninsula that they were on.
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