to feel his bones burning inside

A barrage of questions befalls the ebony lips, eyes watching closely as she rattles them off. I open my lips, letting them gape for a moment as I realize I have much to consider in the words she's spoken. She asks for my birth clan, my life giver (nantli?). She tells me I bring bad luck just like the abomination (Ovidius the Betrayer). My eyes wander to the petite mare and her golden weapons, settling on the clean points of her sturdy daggers before falling to the mangled tips of bone protruding from my collar— mine were not natural. "Birth Clan?" It's only a whisper as I try to recall the meaning behind clan, what the term would be at home. Tribe? Does she mean what tribe I was born in? My mind works tirelessly to connect the dots, trying to realize that this woman has probably never been informed of the outside (she seemed to have a peculiar reaction to the unicorn). Hesitantly I answer, rough and deep vocals cutting through the prolonged silence with a choppy answer. "From Arto, descendent of  Cualneci-oquichtin tribe." I pause momentarily, gathering up each question and answer, taking time to word my responses. "I, Yaotl the Teohua. Born of Bellona, chieftess of the Cualneci-oquichtin reborn. And who is you?" I preach of my heritage, aureate eyes befalling the woman of ebony in hopes she will be more impressed than the black and gold mare, who I seek not to impress— only intimidate. I am the Teohua, the Gods' keeper of secrets, of their legends— I am entrusted to listen to their tales and offer them praise and prayers, sacrificing to appeal to them. 

"No, no tetzahuitl! Never a tetzahuitl!" I toss my head, I am no bad luck, I am a child born from the blood of warriors and shamans, beautiful god blessed people whose roots run deep within the ancient lands. "Not a tetzahuitl." I confirm finally, gaze shifting to the newcomer and praying that she accept me as a comrade. Another woman comes, with lofty black wings and a horn upon her brow— eyes shifting to the foreigner in hopes she will favour me over this new mare, wishing for her kindness rather than the rage present within her veins. 

The golden woman with her onyx hide preaches lies, woven tales of demons hidden beneath beautiful skin, wolves in precious clothing. "Ihuian!" I cry out against her, lips drawn in a snarl at the Betrayer. "Dare you call the Teohua a demon? Tixtotomac!" She so foolishly believes she will go unpunished, that she will run free from harm when she has defiled my name! Cerulean body trembles with fury, the gods keeping an eye on me as I stare down at this wretched woman. "Tixolopitli! Face wrath of Gods for impudence!" Not a single missed syllable as the promise strikes my lips, sizzling gold watches carefully the onyx woman. She is nothing, a stone in my path on my way to reaching something greater, something better than this pettiness. As I watch her wallow in sickening laughter my skin breaks, twisted towers of ivory spiraling from my shoulders, daring her to step closer. Skin stains red around the parted flesh, mending itself as it adjusts to the separation. 

She the Chicactic turns to me, asking more questions for me to ponder. "Came to Helovia for Nantli, I am to explore for time before return to Arto. I know little of Helovia history, Nantli tell me only what she know of herds and others." That is all I can offer her, lost to all the other answers. She obviously trusts me more than those here, believing they've given away their wings in turn for horns— I believe she hasn't seen anything beyond a pegasus. 

— teohua, "keeper of the gods." tetzahuitl, "bad omen." ihuian, "a crazy, foolish thing." tixtotomac, "you are a fool." tixolopitli, "you are stupid." chicactic, "sturdy, strong."