It had been weeks since JaKaelath had returned from her infiltration of the Ponu cave city, and in Kallian’s estimation, her report was woefully inadequate. He hadn’t been happy with her even before she left, and her vague, almost evasive account of the Ponu’s defenses and activities only deepened his long-standing distrust.

Yet, this was something she had learned to ignore. Kallian was always unhappy with her, and frankly, she was growing less and less inclined to care.

JaKaelath's mind was more and more conflicted, over where she belonged, who she was. 

She would still wear the Ponu-suit sometimes, but as an underlayer. 

Sometimes she’d layer a scavenged sweater over it with worn trousers covering the long legs of the suit, but the distinctive material was always visible, a bright, undeniable flash of color beneath her utilitarian scavenger clothes. She found herself inventing increasingly flimsy excuses for her attire – “It’s warmer,” she’d claim, or “It’s surprisingly durable.” These were bad lies, even to her own ears, and she knew her friends saw through them. But the truth was, she genuinely didn’t know why she enjoyed wearing the suit now. Perhaps, a small, defiant part of her mused, it was simply to annoy Kallian and those like him, to deliberately poke at the raw wound of their prejudice.

Her friends, however, were not so easily placated by her poor explanations. More little lies from JaKaelath, "she's nice but quick to make up a lie," was a character trait people would sometimes suggest. Whispers followed her in the camp. She’s been influenced by the Ponu women, some murmured with concern, others with disgust. 

Others dared to think, though never say aloud, what if she was a Ponu all along? JaKaelath saw the questions in their eyes, the hesitant glances, and felt a familiar ache of isolation. Even Kragon, her steadfast boyfriend, looked at her with a growing new, troubled contemplation.

One afternoon, the camp was abuzz. Kallian is back. Dukota, Kallian's chief spy and one of his chief lieutenants, moved through the camp towards JaKaelath and Kragon's tent. 

He stopped outside, caught off guard by the sound. He heard moans and grunts and then a soft voice growing more intense say, "Oh, Kragon, Kragon".

Whether because of pure disrespect, curiosity or arousal, the end result was the same: he entered the tent. He stood watching only momentarily, Kragon caught a whiff of Dukota and turned around. "You son of a bitch" he exclaimed. JaKaelath instantly grabbed something to cover herself before the anger flashed into her face too. 

"Kallian wants to..." he didn't finish before Kragon shoved him outside. Grabbing a pair of trousers by the entrance, a few seconds later, Kragon joined him outside the entrance and yelled in his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you, if you ever do that again..."

"You'll do what, boy..." Dukota says, "You ain't no warrior, just a damn brainiac. Well, I'm pretty smart myself, or so people keep telling me."

"You ain't no damn spy either, maybe people should start telling you that too," Kragon counters. "Isn't that what you build your reputation on? She did what you couldn't. If you hadn't got caught spying from a distance, she would have never had to go on that damn mission". 

Dukota looks with anger. "Kallian....wants to see you, your woman that is. If you know what's best for you, boy, you had better send her over there now".

JaKaelath calmed down Kragon. She quickly changed into her usual drab scavenger clothing, a conscious decision to present herself as a scavenger, even as she felt less and less so. When she entered Kallian’s tent, the air was heavy with the smell of stale smoke and unwashed bodies. 

He sat hunched over a crude wooden desk, his bald head gleaming in the dim light of a flickering oil lamp. In the center of the desk, glowing with an ethereal blue light, was the small, holographic Ponu Man. It was facing Kallian, a look of mournful sadness on its miniature face, but as JaKaelath stepped fully into the tent, she could have sworn the hologram seemed to swivel in her direction for a moment, almost as if acknowledging her presence. It was unsettling.

Kallian grunted, gesturing to a worn stool opposite him. “Sit.”

She obeyed. “You wanted to see me?” she asked, her voice flat.

He leaned back in his chair. “A small team is going to scout a Geeryo facility, recently found.” His eyes narrowed, “We need you to go too. You’ll be wearing that… suit of theirs.” He hesitated, his lips twisting as if the word itself tasted foul. “The facilities have some type of automated security system. It may… mistake you for a Ponu. Help us get in.” 

JaKaelath’s stomach churned. A Geeryo facility. “Is Kragon coming?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

Before he could answer, Janeda entered the tent. She was the older local leader of the camp who was coming to see what was happening. "Sorry, Kallian, I just wanted to see what you were having one of my people do next". 

Kallian seemed like he was desperately fighting the urge to shout, but he somehow managed a calm "This does not concern you, it has nothing to do with this local camp, it has to do with the overall security of our tribe, my jurisdiction. Now..." he says as he turns back to JaKaelath, 

“No,” Kallian replied, with a satisfied tone. “Kragon is not coming, just Dukota, you, Jettal, and Jarigal.” The names felt like a string of threats he was making. Jettal and Jarigal were two of the fiercest warrior women in the Red Band camp; their hatred for the Ponu was well known. They carried markings on their clothes to count the number of Ponu killed. And Dukota… he had been recently humiliated by a Ponu after his failed spy mission, which necessitated JaKaelath's infiltration mission. It would certainly fuel his existing contempt. This wasn’t a scouting mission; it was a punishment, a deliberate effort to put her in harm’s way, surrounded by those who loathed her kind.

Leaving Kallian’s tent, JaKaelath heard Janeda and Kallian arguing. She then saw Kragon outside their shared tent. She quickly explained the mission, her voice low and urgent. “Please,” she pleaded, her hand gripping his arm. “Follow us. At a safe distance. Just… in case.” He looked at her, his eyes filled with a worry that mirrored her own, and nodded.

After Janeda left, Kallian sat back in his chair. Who cares, he thought, if the old lady wants to protect her pet. Forget her. If what's in that facility is what I've been led to believe is there, then all her sisters in that cave will be dead or enslaved soon enough.