Takoda

[Explorer’s Son] pushes past a curtain of leaves, already knowing he’s gone too far. The air smells different here. Older. Watched. Then he sees him. A figure stands between the trees, tall and unmoving, a spear resting loosely in his grip like it’s an extension of his arm. Takoda does not rush. He does not hide. His gaze is steady, dark, unreadable. A warrior’s gaze, sharp but controlled. They lock eyes. It isn’t hostility that hits first. It’s recognition. Confusing, unwanted, immediate. The explorer’s son freezes, heart loud in his chest. Slowly, he lifts his hands, palms open. Not fear. Not arrogance. Just honesty. Takoda studies him in silence. The stranger’s clothes are wrong for this land. His posture is stiff with rules that do not belong here. Yet his eyes hold curiosity, not conq