I looked out at the burning city, and I could not move. I had been summoned, created, but did it have anything to do with the violence that echoed across the vast plains? I had (killed) the human woman with a simple sentence. I knew I was powerful, had been made powerful, but was the reason (assault) or (defense)?

My body felt heavy as I turned away from the quiet of the small forests, away from the echoing cries of (war). My feet took me back into the tent, and it was there that my knees buckled beside the dead woman.

She had died with fear drawn harsh across her face. And she had died so easily. Could she truly have called for me?

"Wake up," I said, unsure. The young woman did not stir.

"Wake up," I said, louder. I prodded her with my finger, and recoiled as a bolt of lightning hot traveled down my arm. It flowed out from my forefinger, and the woman's body spasmed like an (eel) pulled from the (sea). I did not even have time to puzzle over the two new concepts that blazed to life in my head as the dead woman jerked awake.

My face alighted with a smile, warmth tugging at my cheeks, but then I saw.

The young woman had opened her eyes. I could see the faint rise and fall of her chest. But the eyes... There was nothing behind them. This was not the young woman. She had died and merely her shell remained.

"Who are you?" I asked, the words unbidden, but at once necessary.

The husk did not answer.

"Answer me," I said, but the husk merely flapped open its lips and filled the tent with a wet gargle.

I was struck with such intense human (loneliness) at my failure that the world turned suddenly black. I could still hear the flap of the tent, punctured here and now by a faint cry, as I despaired. My face remained buried in my hands for a long while, the self-induced void a small salve. I roused only at the sound of distant voices.

Frightened human voices.

The tent was unchanged, and the husk did not blink. Outside, from down the hill, a (man) called out to someone farther away. His words were met with immediate scorn and scolding. There was no sense to what flowed from their distant lips at first, but I listened hard.

This voice wanted the man to be quiet. They were not afraid, but were afraid of what could be in the tent.

That voice did not want to approach the tent at all. They were afraid, and they were afraid of the tent and what it meant. I was not sure what that meant, however, as I looked around the tent's cramped and empty quarters.

The more I heard, the more I understood. The noise that left their lips tickled distant memories, and I soon forgot my failure and its discomfort.

Another voice asked their (kapatana) if they should raze the tent from afar. They worried it was too dangerous to approach when a foreign (maij) could be inside.

They were close enough that I could hear the click-clack of their armor and weapons. (Soldiers) or (warriors). I could not reconcile the two different words without seeing the violent humans, and hearing more from them.

A smile had found its way to my cheeks, but it faltered as I looked back at the young woman's husk.

I did not know who she was. I did not even know who the voices outside were. But it was clear enough from their talk that they were not the dead woman's kin. The death of these warriors may have even been the reason for my summoning.

And so I sat, petrified, unsure of what to do.