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As Life Returns to Irontown [minccino & Hamlowe]

H

Hamlowe

Moon
Joined
Jun 1, 2020
For the span of about an hour, in the early morning, Irontown seemed to be alone. Mist lay gently all around it like a gossamer cloak, veiling the water that gently lapped at the shores below its palisade. The dark walls, stained by years of smoke, reminded all who beheld them of its past as a blight upon the landscape. Deep in the dark heart of the town, bellows fed sparks into flames, and dark smoke once again billowed forth, as if to remember the sins of the past.

But then, as if planned by some harmonist, a wind blew over Irontown. The smoke and the mist alike dispersed on the eddying currents, and light shone bright on the eastern horizon. The new growth of trees shimmered with dew, their leaves forming a carpet like jade carvings that surrounded Irontown as arms surround one embraced. The blotch of human civilization now more resembled a beauty-mark upon the landscape, or at least seemed to be more closely approaching that ideal appearance.

Deep within this dark beauty-mark upon the forest, Ashitaka was already awake and washed. His hair, once shorn as a sign of his exile from the land of his birth, was now long enough to arrange in the traditional topknot again. He found the motions easy to his hands, a living reminder of a dying people somewhere closer to the sunrise. Once he was dressed—his scarred right arm, as always, giving him a moment of pause—he went about a business known only to him, fetching some rice-cakes here, some water there, some strips of smoked meat elsewhere. He paused a moment before his sword, enshrined alongside his bow as a reminder of what this peace had cost. He left that blade there, only taking a knife in his belt along with the other supplies.

"Going out for a ride," was the only explanation he gave to the various people asking him his business so early in the morning, and nobody questioned it. All of them had seen Yakul's energy and agility enough to know that a ride was scarcely more than the elk deserved. When others were around, Ashitaka simply repeated this reassurance to his mount, but when they were alone, he made one final clarification: "Going to see San."

At that, Yakul nearly leapt for joy, and they rode out from the stables at the gates of Irontown almost too quickly for the sentries to react beyond a dumbfounded wave. They left the path almost immediately for the forest, taking the path Ashitaka had first trodden himself, bearing his own burdens, but now traveled with joyous anticipation. After all, they were going to see San.
 
Irontown, if it was a beauty mark to Ashitaka, was a tumor upon the landscape in San's eyes. Perhaps less unsightly, now that an abundance of flora covered the blackness of it, but its grotesque offense against nature remained the same. Her resentment towards humans lingered, albeit eased by the reminder that Ashitaka was amongst the people that inhabited Irontown. He was the beauty mark upon that cursed village, not the blackened, charred gates or the bellows that blew toxic smoke into the air.

And as much as she missed his company, she couldn't bear to tread those grounds again, or be near such human filth. So she waited. Time passed slowly, but San had much to rebuild in the forest, including her cave that the boars and people had lain waste to. The kodama appeared again, though not nearly as abundantly, and San took their numbers growing as a reassurance that the forest was slowly, but surely healing. And for the first time since her upbringing in nature's embrace, San felt all was at peace.

That morning she was bathing in a clear pond, accompanied by her wolf brothers, when one seemed to catch a familiar scent in the air long before she could. Anticipating an intruder, San hurriedly grabbed her discarded clothes upon the mossy rocks and dressed herself haphazardly. Her top was only halfway on at the same time her hand reached for a spear.

"He's here," the wolf growled in a low cadence. Unlike Yakul, the wolves weren't ecstatic to reunite with Ashitaka, but they had adopted a more familiar impression of him since the war. They weren't, at least, eager to make him their lunch this time.

"Ashitaka?" San repeated incredulously. "Ashitaka's here?"

Once fully dressed, San rushed to the edge of the forest to meet their visitor, a nervous but joyful sort of anticipation filling her heart. They stopped upon the cliffs to make certain it was really him, and upon seeing him and Yakul in the flesh, San couldn't conceal the honest smile upon her face. She took off running downhill, caring little for the branches that lashed at her face on the way, and crashed right into Ashitaka's arms with a bright, bubbly laugh. The hug was brief, so she could peel back and pat Yakul's muzzle with affection.

"They sensed you were coming," she said, slightly out of breath. "I didn't believe them."
 
Once they were in the forest Yakul had to walk rather than canter, but even in his careful pace Ashitaka could feel alacrity suppressed, the eagerness to see the wolf-girl again. The Princess of the Forest Spirits. The girl who had come to mean so much to Ashitaka, even as they could only be together when he could part from Irontown to visit her. She still could not forgive their existence, and he could not force her. So he came to her.

They hadn't gotten far before two—no, three—shocks of white wolf-fur appeared high above them. Ashitaka raised his hands in greeting, then dismounted in anticipation of San's precipitous descent, bracing himself in the moment before they collided, all of her strength meeting his firm resolve with an infectious laugh of joy. Gods, but she was beautiful, whether from a distance or right here beside him.

Of course, even here her brothers were watching. He glanced at them respectfully as she mentioned their warning, but gave her a sardonic smile a moment later. "You didn't? I told you I would visit when I could. And today's a good day to do so--nobody needs me today."
 
"You did," San clarified, but held her tongue. She didn't want to admit that a part of her assumed he wouldn't keep his promise. She had thought he would live in Irontown and forget about her existence, perhaps even start a family. She couldn't be sure, since she never wanted to step foot in that town again, or had no way of communicating with him beyond waiting for his return. She hugged him again, parts of her still damp from jumping out of the springs earlier.

She hoped he would stay, but she knew by sundown he would likely return to Irontown and leave her longing again. At least she could make the most of the here and now. The forest had prospered since the war and San had so much she wanted to show him.

San waved at her brothers still standing vigilant upon the cliff until they finally turned away, then looked to Ashitaka again. He was handsome as usual, though his hair had grown out and the stench of humans and iron was stronger on him, now. Underlying it was a familiar scent that warmed her cheeks. "Then you'll stay for the night?" she asked, leading him into the forest that had regrown its dense canopy in the months following the war.

"There's plenty of food," San said, as if her stockpile of dried boar jerky and wild berries would entice him to stay.
 
The wolves' departure lifted the young prince's heart in a way he could not describe without a few moments of breathless contemplation. They left only at San's signal, and only after a few moments of their own thoughts. Were they still distrustful of the man who had brought a tentative peace between Town and Forest? Were they still curious about Yakul? They had every right to their distrust, but their "curiosity" would sit poorly with him after all that had happened. People could change--couldn't gods?

Nevertheless, they left them alone. Perhaps they had changed, after all.

Certainly San had changed--gone was the bitter wolf-girl who had nearly killed him merely to silence him. In her place was someone who trusted him enough to discard her surest protectors, her claimed brothers, to be with him alone. He hadn't slept out in the open since before coming to Irontown, but the prospect of it no longer filled him with dread. Perhaps it was the company.

"I brought some food, too," he replied, patting Yakul's saddlebags. "It's not much, but...between the two of us..." He coughed, losing his train of thought, then recovered: "I mean, they won't miss me for just a night."

Did that answer her question? Maybe he had to clarify:

"Yes, I'll stay."
 
His promise to stay returned her beaming smile. She'd never once wanted for different company than the forest and her sparse tribe but after meeting Ashitaka, there had never been a single day she hadn't yearned for him. Her confession of love was still young, after all. True and resilient against the march of time.

San realized on their brisk stroll into the forest that she had forgotten her accessories by the creek in her haste to meet Ashitaka. It had been incredibly hasty of her, but now that they were on their way in that general direction, she failed to see the harm in inviting him for a quick and refreshing dip. A bath was a normal activity, and nudity wasn't something to be prudish about in nature.

"Come. Yakul, too," the wolf-girl encouraged as she led them to the gurgling creek and the pool of fresh spring-water in the forest.

Pieces of her outfit, like her necklace, had been discarded on a bed of moss. San didn't reach for it, and instead stripped the heavy pelt of wolf-fur from her shoulders and placed it gingerly aside. Her casual stripping should have stopped there, but she reached for her white top and then paused before she could hurl her entire dress off. "Bathe with me," she invited Ashitaka, leaning in close enough to sniff one, two, three times near the crook of his neck.

"You reek of humans."
 
In a sort of unspoken acknowledgement, Ashitaka led rather than rode Yakul deeper into the forest. Here was a place of simplicity and equality, where both man and mount had the same voice, or at least could both be heard by the same ears. San knew them both, and welcomed them both. Yakul followed of his own volition, his reins wound loosely and uselessly around his saddle-horn as Ashitaka followed San to the water.

At the stream, rather than the pool, he lay down to drink, content to rest while Ashitaka removed and loosened enough of his accoutrements for comfort, while not stripping him completely. San had no such compunctions, only pausing long enough to confirm Ashitaka reeked of Irontown before inviting him quite candidly to bathe in the pool.

Fortunately for him, she assumed his agreement and turned away before she could see the flush rapidly creeping over his face. The wolf-girl was still there, shameless in her innocence. How could he begrudge her this? He no doubt did smell--though he no longer had the raw strength he had once contributed to the tatara or to the forge, he still knew enough of smithing that he'd been consulted many a time on how best to forge daggers, plows, and other tools—anything besides those fearsome guns that had wrought so much evil. Irontown had enough weapons for its own defense. Now the forges were in the business of building rather than destroying, but it all smelled the same to San.

Still, did she have to be so brazen? She didn't know, of course—he told himself that as he, only a little reluctantly, removed his tunic and trousers, hesitating a moment longer before removing everything else and quickly slipping into the before she turned back to see him naked and vulnerable for that moment.

"It's good to see the forest healing," he said, hoping to talk about anything other than the obvious feature of their situation.
 
San took a little more guilty pleasure in watching Ashitaka undress. While her soul aligned more with a wolf than girl, she was not immune to the attractive wiles of a man undressing in front of her. Perhaps the lustful ache was doubled due in part to her lack of experience.

She had seen other men in various states of undress in the forest, of course, but the ways they had treated nature were so vile she thought their nudity putrid. But Ashitaka's body appealed to her. She gazed upon it for an inappropriate length of time, her attention lingering longer on his groin which filled her with a curious urge to touch. He submerged into the pool before she could properly ogle, and then it was her turn to discard her clothes.

San wore nothing by the way of undergarments beneath her rag-like clothing, so when the dress was pulled off, she was fully naked. Her breasts were on the petite side but perky, her cleavage marked with the same red, tribal tattoo that was on her face. Down there, she was surprisingly well-groomed like the hair on top of her head, with just a short puff of hairs trimmed into an upside-down triangle at the apex of her mound.

San returned to the water, until it was pooling just underneath her breasts. "Yes," she agreed. "Thanks to you."

"It's when the flowers bloom," San said, referring to the coming of spring. "And food grows abundant because the animals mate." It was a way of life, a necessary, biological imperative followed by all living things in nature. To procreate was a beautiful thing. "Do you have a family?" she asked, wading closer to Ashitaka.
 
Ashitaka tried not to stare, but could not resist momentary glimpses at the girl he loved, so beautiful whether she wore her wolf pelts or not. The mark between her breasts was particularly enticing, but he only looked long enough to see it before pressing his attention back to himself and his ablutions, only half-listening to San's remarks about the cycle of life. He knew it, of course, had wondered if Yakul would be lonely in this first spring without others of his kind around, but perhaps had wondered not enough about himself. Coinciding with these thoughts, he started when San drew closer, but not at her. No, he was remembering his family, wondering the proper tense to speak of them.

"I had one," he said, after a pause. "I come from a people different from the people of Irontown," he said, struggling to explain the difference between the Emishi and Yayoi, especially when both spoke the same language and few here had even heard of his doomed tribe. "I left them because of the curse—you remember." He held up his right hand, the scar on his palm the plainest reminder of the hateful thing that had nearly consumed them both. "They are my past." He hesitated to talk about Kaya—what could she be to him, especially compared to San?
 
"Yes, I remember," San confirmed, casting a friendly glance at Yakul who had divulged quite a few details of their village and origins. Yakul's explanations had been simpler, of course, but no less vivid of the life the pair of them had come from.

She rested her hand upon his scarred palm when she sat next to him, feeling along the lightning grooves and raised flesh. This, she remembered, too. She retracted her touch, but her gaze remained abundantly curious. "Did you have a mate?" she inquired. If Ashitaka had one now, she surely would have smelled her on him, but he smelled distinctly of Irontown and nothing—or no one—specific. If she remembered correctly, there were quite a lot of women, happy and well-fed, in the town.

San just found it difficult to believe a man so virile and attractive could come unmated out of not one, but two towns in his lifetime. According to Yakul, at least, Ashitaka hadn't been short of female attention, but perhaps out of respect for his master's privacy, the elk hadn't disclosed anything specifically about Kaya.
 
Her touch, this close in their nudity, sent a shiver up Ashitaka's spine. Why was she so curious now, especially about--his lips tightened. "No," he said definitively, but he could not forget the dagger. "Someone was promised to me—but we never touched," he said, awkwardly trying to dance around the obvious facts. Perhaps he would have grown to love Kaya, but he couldn't imagine having this familiarity with her, not after how much he had changed. It would be a different Ashitaka who would have married her. "To her, I am dead," he said, hoping it would leave the matter resolved as far as San would be concerned.

"What of you?" he asked, turning to her while keeping his eyes resolutely fixed on hers. "Do you remember nothing of...before you were found?"
 
San had thought humans were silly to begin with, but to have heard from Ashitaka of humans being "promised" to each other was sillier than she could have imagined. Was it a human custom, to preemptively determine a mate? She nodded, slow but sure to understand the nuances. A part of her wanted to ask if she was dead to him, as well, but she found herself the target of his gaze shortly and felt a gentle warmth bleed through her.

She held his gaze, transfixed. This time, she wasn't staring down an enemy blocking her path, but looking into the eyes of a person that made her feel human. It was uncomfortable, so she glanced away, and wrapped her arms around herself in a gentle, self-soothing gesture. "I was very young," she explained. She only remembered what Moro had told her and even then her memory failed her. "My human parents threw me to the wolves to save themselves."

San's voice adopted a gentler, sadder cadence. "To them, I am dead." Her sadness was a vulnerability she hadn't shown anyone before, a kind of weakness that her siblings would have found unfit for her to have and possibly have eaten her for. The wolves were her found family, but they coddled no weakness in her.

"I like it better here," she added, quick to regain her resolve. "I'll start a family here one day."
 
To them, I am dead. Just like him. Was that why she seemed loath to admit this part of her history? Why she had denied her humanity mere months ago when they had first met? Weakness was no part of the wolf. Even in death, Moro had given Lady Eboshi her comeuppance, forever maiming the lady who now ruled with her remaining hand of compassionate strength.

"How horrible of them," was all Ashitaka could say. Indeed, for all their vengeful ways, the gods never fell to such depths of human turpitude. Still, where there was such evil in humanity, there could be goodness. He dared to close the gap between them and wrap his arms around her in the vain hope of comforting her. "I like it better here, too," he murmured. "If none of this had happened--for all of its evil--we never would have met." He held onto her as if he was holding onto that truth, the reality that life without their pasts could never be. Only the present moment could exist, and whatever future would come next depended on that alone. On them alone.
 
San knew that Ashitaka didn't truly mean that they were horrible. He seemed to embrace the deep flaws of humanity in ways she would never understand, or want to. His stance ultimately didn't matter because what he had said was true, and wise.

In his arms, the pain from abandonment ebbed briefly, and San quickly found that the direct skin-to-skin contact was a welcomed layer of intimacy. She felt warm all over, her brain a bit muggy and senses equally as foggy. San leaned into the embrace a bit further, perhaps innocently unaware of the way her bare breasts pressed like pillows against his much firmer chest. She had to wonder briefly if Ashitaka simply was special, or if she had just missed human touch.

It was likely the former, with how deep her blush became. "Ashitaka," she said and placed a palm upon his chest to separate them briefly. "Come see our den? I have something for you."
 
It was only after a few moments in this embrace that Ashitaka started to realize the brazenness of his action. He could have tried to correct himself, to step back, but if San didn't protest, he felt like staying exactly where she would have him. Her breasts against his chest only became apparent to him in their separation. A quick glance down was all he gave before correcting himself in a blink, listening intently to San and trying to ignore the flush in her face. "For me? Of course," he replied, accepting their separation. "Should I finish, uh..." He felt like he hadn't really washed that much of himself--but she didn't care as much now.
 
San followed his gaze down, even if it was brief, to her own breasts. The water was chilly due to it being early spring and were it not for Ashitaka's warm embrace, her nipples would have stayed erect from the biting cold. She didn't mind; instead, she chuckled and scooped water up to his bare shoulders with her hands. "Yes, come to see the den later. You still stink too much like that place," San hummed.

She had already bathed herself quite thoroughly in the first leg of her interrupted bath, so now she was focused on washing Ashitaka of the stench she so loathed. There was a halved gourd nearby that she used to scoop water and pour onto him, and what looked like a piece of a spongey plant to scrub. San was used to washing her siblings on hot summer days but this was her first time bathing a human body other than hers.

At least, it seemed like an unspoken gesture of affection at the time to do it for him.
 
Back on track, he mused with a smile. In ordinary circumstances perhaps he would have insisted on washing himself, and even with her he should have insisted on it rather than oblige her. Something kept him in place, though, made him pliable and docile beneath her ministrations. Was it simply knowing that it was on her approval that he depended? Was it even more simply that she had offered? Or was he actually enjoying this?

All three, perhaps, were true at once for those blissful minutes as he sat, moving to her unspoken or mumbled commands until, at some point, he hoped he would be rid of the fiery stench to her satisfaction.

"How does it smell? Whatever you hate, I mean." The question came to mind purely on accident, but once it was asked he blamed her nude form for distracting him from that until now. He wondered if he could smell it on himself, or if some gift of Moro had given her a sense of smell beyond human ken. A strange thing to wonder, but this was a strange moment.
 
Biologically, San was restricted to her human senses, but perhaps years of being reared by wolves, and raised under the care of a goddess, made San more gifted in some ways that defied her biological limitations. She had a finer sense of smell than most, and a lot of it she chalked up to a polished tracking skill and her upbringing. After all, a wolf's sense of smell was their bread and butter, a necessary tool for survival.

San concentrated on washing Ashitaka, scrubbing slowly enough to admire his muscles hardened by work in the forge. She was impressed, and subconsciously aroused, by the way they tensed and flexed when he moved. "It smells like rotten flesh," she muttered under her breath. "Like fish left out in the sun too long, or game when it's eaten by maggots. Even that would be a gentle comparison."

San couldn't describe the scent into words she knew because it was so unnatural. "But it's not so bad on you now. It smells... less... like fire and iron, and more like you," she admitted quietly, and drew her face closer to kiss the spot on his shoulder she had diligently scrubbed.
 
Rotten flesh? Unconsciously Ashitaka found himself wincing at her description. He'd expected maybe the sting of smoke or the heat of fire, but not decay of all things. No wonder she found it so repulsive--was that from how attuned she'd become to the way of the gods? She was a mystery to him in so many ways, but he found himself wanting to learn more about those unknown parts of her, those things hidden in the crevices of her soul. What else was there?

What tenderness could he have expected in this moment? He barely recognized her kiss for what it was at first, so strange it seemed coming from her. But in an instant it fell into place alongside the gentle way she scrubbed him or rinsed him, and he felt understood in that moment. Seen, known for who he was, as she recognized his scent for him. Recognized him, and loved him.

"I see," he said, trying not to let his excitement get the better of him. "Does that mean I can come to your den now?"
 
The kiss was like an innocent gesture of affection, a longing to be close while she bathed him with utmost care. San moved the spongey plant south, beneath the water, to wash his lower torso and thighs with equal gentleness. Once her hands had swept over his broad back a couple times, the stench of humans had evaporated enough that she felt it sufficient to bring him back to her den.

When she stood up, she did so with gusto, not exactly thinking of what height Ashitaka's head would be in relative to her crotch. As water cascaded off her naked body, she reached for her discarded clothing and hung them over her arm. Only the wolf pelt was draped around her shoulders to keep her naked form somewhat hidden, because she didn't mind what in nature looked upon her as she dried herself off. It would be a brisk walk back to the den, long enough for the moisture to wick.

"Are you never going back to your village?" she asked on the way. "Your curse is gone. Will they not accept you?"
 
Fortunately, Ashitaka was facing away from San when she stood up, only getting a backful of water from her. As he turned and stood, he quickly realized that their shared nudity and the intimacy of her washing had had an effect on him that he could only hope she, in turn, didn't notice in her excitement to lead him back. He hastily wrapped some of his smallclothes around himself to cover if not conceal his problem before following her. Yakul, of course, followed them too.

He nearly missed her question in his awkward scramble, but after catching up and thinking, he thought about it. "I don't think they'd accept the curse is gone," he replied. The question had occurred to him more than once since his departure, but the rituals had conveyed what couldn't have been said--he was, in truth, as good as dead to them. He had changed too much—the youth now scrambling half-naked through the woods behind a similarly half-clad girl who thought of herself first as a wolf was impossibly different from the prince who had shot Nago and departed in exile. He had left there a warrior and become a peacemaker. Why would they accept him? Why would they even recognize him?

"I don't...want to go back," he realized, after a moment. He said it almost to himself, as if unsure that it was true.
 
San listened to him intently on their trek to the newly established den. "You don't have to," she replied, her solution simple. She would be the first to preach to anyone about found family, and the importance of growing new roots where there was fertile soil. If there was nothing left for Ashitaka back in his home village, there would be no reason to return, if not to indulge in nostalgia. "There is a home for you here," San assured him.

As they walked, San clutched her clothes close to her chest, subconsciously hiding whatever modesty she would have already shed in the pool. Maybe it was because she had noticed Ashitaka's "problem" before he had hidden it. She may have been raised in the woods by wolves but she wasn't ignorant of the natural ways of human courtship. She had witnessed it multiple times before, when she had stumbled upon frisky teenagers who often hid in the forest to elope. But witnessing Ashitaka's arousal was different. More personal.

She tried not to pay it any heed as they scaled some rocks to reach the stone den that overlooked the entire forest in all of its majesty. It had been rebuilt since the boars' rampage, fortified with more stone and woven foliage. Inside was a more comfortable nest of pelts and woven leaves, and smaller, more human amenities like windchimes and clay pots that decorated the interior of the den. San, once fully dried, slipped her clothes on once more, and retrieved something from a pot to hand to Ashitaka. It was a twine necklace, similar to the one she was wearing of the ornamental dagger, but at the end was a single wolf's tooth.

"I only found one of Moro's," she said. "The Deer God's body destroyed the rest. She would have wanted you to have it."

Even with her disdain of humans, Moro had shown mercy and understanding towards Ashitaka, and had recognized his affections for San. She wholeheartedly believed the tooth would serve him as a protective charm because of her mother's favor towards him.
 
A home for him here. The thought filled Ashitaka with a sense of peace he had not felt in many months. She didn't mean Irontown, of course, but this forest. This den, where she was leading him. Wherever she went, he had a home with her. Was that what she meant, or was he looking too deeply into a simple reassurance?

As they ascended the rocky slope, Ashitaka realized he had never walked this path before. Somehow, he had never entered into San's private spaces before. It was a strange realization to have after realizing how much they had shared so many months ago. Now she was sharing something new, and they were here. Panting, he dressed himself, then turned to look over the forest. Any confusion dropped away from his mind now, for only awe could adequately respond to the view from this place. No wonder she valued the forest. Before any spiritual connection, before any understanding of good and evil, surely this beauty had first touched her, as it now touched him.

Her voice was what roused him from a reverie that no doubt only lasted a moment but seemed to contain months of understanding. None of that, nothing at all, could have prepared him for her gift. The twine was simple and understandable, but the tooth was far too large to belong to anyone save—

No, she couldn't. This was her mother's—he couldn't dare to—

Almost robotically, almost reverently, he received the necklace. "Thank you," he said, not entirely to her. His thoughts lay with the dead god of the wolves, the only divinity who had trusted him. How had he deserved this repayment, and how could San ever part with it, save in knowing that he would carry it and remain? Was this her sign, her calling to him to stay, even as they could not live together?
 
She had thought what would be the best course of action, and had ultimately decided that Moro's vestige would find a better home on Ashitaka. Her brothers had been displeased with her decision, of course, until San reassured them that her spirit was with them, already. There was no need for trinkets if her love existed in everything that breathed life in the forest. Humans, on the other hand, were sentimental with their valuables, and would surely find significance in something that they could touch.

Moro's tooth was, ultimately, a small gesture of repayment for the victory Ashitaka had won for them. Had it not been for him, San, her entire tribe, Irontown, and the entirety of the forest would have perished in ceaseless hatred. She cupped the hand that held the necklace between both of hers and touched her forehead to it to pray. "Mother, watch over Ashitaka. Let your swiftness carry him where he needs to go. May your wisdom keep him true," she mumbled quietly.

A gentle breeze swept through the mouth of the den in response, carrying with it a lulling fragrance of pine and wildflowers. San drew her hands back, and picked up the jewel dagger that had not left her since the war.

"I still carry this," she said. "It's beautiful, but... it doesn't make for a very useful dagger."
 
"Keep me true," Ashitaka echoed, not knowing what else to say. The forest seemed to sigh over them in response, the air washing over them like the gentle soothing of a mother's voice. Perhaps Moro sent that wind, or perhaps the god of the forest. Perhaps some higher, unknown god gave them this consolation, in pity for their losses. Whether it was given consciously or unconsciously, he received it consciously, inhaling the breeze as if strains of incense were carried on its eddies. He was not sure what this moment meant now, but he hoped that in time, he would.

In much the same way, San could not have understood the gift he had passed on to her months before. "It's not meant to be used for fighting," he said with a wry grin. "The only point is that you carry it. It's the last gift I have from my people, so when you have it, you have me with you." He thought about explaining the significance of it, but that would entail explaining the "promise" to which he had alluded long ago. True, Kaya had been promised to him, but as he'd said, they never touched. Indeed, he had not thought often of her before that promise (for that was the way of such marriages), and he had only thought of her since then with a wistful fondness, not any true yearning. But how could he explain all of that to a girl whose only experiences of human ways were abandonment and conquest?

Instead, he shook his head as Yakul had often shaken flies away from his face, and looked to the wolf-girl with a smile. "May I come in?"
 
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