Although according to Western ideas living spirits of any kind have no visible or extended parts, yet the Ainu always appear to connect them with some form and kind of matter. Thus we fre- quently hear of them as existing in trees, animating the storms, rid- ing upon the wind, roaring in the thunder, dwelling in animal form, going to and resting in the sun. Both gods and devils go to war, ride in chariots, look out of human eyes, speak with human language, fight with swords and spears. Even the Creator himself is con- ceived of as possessing a body like that of a man. Yet this body, though spoken of as if it were matter which could be mutilated, de- stroyed, and dissolved, is, on the other hand, also thought to consist of some indestructible ethereal substance. Source: Items of Ainu Folklore. Written by Batchelor, John.

Days bled into nights, and as they did, their impatience rose. They were worried about being declared missing or dead. To not arrive at their destination was a concern. And the probable reactions of their loved ones grated on their very beings. They had to leave soon. This land, which was more than hospitable, had served its time. Returning to the open seas was priority.

Today was the day to begot this land, with permission from the chiefess. They formed their case - a simple one - where the seas and the sky were no longer possessed by the gods themselves, and to row was as easy and harmless as a mid-afternoon breeze.

They entered her domain - a single floor treehouse that had much of it escaping the bounds of the expansive flora. Within it, coconuts knotted together with rope hanging from the ceiling, feathers lining the sides, stones of various textures both stacked and scattered pooled into a corner and scratches upon the planks used to fabricate this palace. Light did its best to illuminate all it offered, giving a calming atmosphere that couldn't be matched.

As they stood before her with an assistant combing her luscious stretch of hair, they laid out their case only to get rejected.

The delegation put out everything they had, thinking it was enough. The time spent here, they felt, would make her lift the restrictions. But they failed to realise the power of those above. Just the fear of them lingering convinced the medicine men, herself, and her close advisors to not relinquish until they had confirmation that all was well between them and the gods.

Some were saddened and infuriated by her decision, while others were quite understanding. And with this divergence in thought and emotion, they all were perturbed by the fact they will be late for the Special Survival Course. Alliouagana, nor those on it, would wait for them.

Having worked their way down the steps comprised of nailed in boards within the bark of the curved section of the tree that served to hold Patabera's residence, their frustrated chatter slipped from their group, allowing passers-by to listen in. Two of them were Moroman and Dulgunax. They took advantage of the ease in restrictions by having a little dialogue while leaning against the pathway railing. This uptick in outdoor activity was minor, but it was some progress to normalcy. The chance to go fishing once more was still a ways off. This weakening of restrictions pushed the Yamaye delegation to try discourse with her in the first place.

"Looks like your talk with the chieftess didn't go so well." Dulgunax eyed them as they lined up with his.

"How would you know?" Zocrix's arms were limp from clear dejection. He didn't want to hear another word from them. They angered him one too many times.

"You certainly didn't keep quiet. Everyone could hear your yammerings."

"It doesn't matter. We're leaving now. It's not like we have anything else to hide."

"You can't leave the village. You have to stay here."

"I know that! Do you think I'm dumb?!"

"Zocrix, you don't have to do that." Inina gripped his forearm to keep him in check.

"Yeah, Zocrix. Calm down. We won. They lost. What's the point?" Matolo just wanted to go back to their newly assigned trunk so they could attend to the deceased girl's body. The scented oils had to be applied to block any hint of the scent of decay.

"Have you forgotten what they were going to do to us? Are you losing what little brain cells a foolish child like you have left?"

"No need to say that." Inina yanked his forearm. She couldn't help but feel dismayed by such words, even ones that weren't directed at her.

His harshness compelled Matolo to run away sobbing. She couldn't handle being berated for her sadness over the girl's death. It impacted her so much that it got her to think about her own life, causing her to see the value in something so precious. She had never put so much brainpower into a concept, one that began to define what it meant to be human.

"Maybe I did."

Yomil turned to him in calm anger and said, "Not maybe. You just didn't need to be like that. You're not the only one in pain. We all are. Stop thinking about yourself."

He chased after Matolo, setting off a wave of children until few remained.

Moroman called to him. He was curious as to his state of mind.

"Zocrix, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not. I made a mistake and I need to fix it."

"Well then, go fix it. We all need to fix what's wrong." He approached him. "We'll help you get off this island. You probably hate this place by now." To assist them would be more significant than any apology either him or Dulgunax could serve.

"I love this place. What makes you think otherwise?"

"Looks like you're not a person of sarcasm. You're such a mess, Zocrix."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. A little girl needs your attention."

Zocrix then set off to right the wrong he made. She needed to know that he doesn't see her that way; that he still respects her, appreciates her, and wants to protect her. Regret got to him. He couldn't bring himself to accept that his anger had hurt a child; one of many tasked to protect. After their incident with the gods, and the loss of the young girl that had more to live, he failed in his duty. He had to apologise. 

He arrived at the tree trunk they were always in - now with the lack of rotting flash and stained blood - and entered. But he could not go forward, as one of his charges stood as proud and firm as any wall to prevent him from meeting Matolo. 

"Wije, what are you doing? Let me in."

He was silent. 

"Come on, Wije. Let me inside."

He was becoming irritated. He wanted to get this over with - to get this terrible feeling off his chest. To make it right would not be straightforward; she'll most likely reject his pleas for forgiveness, but with Wije taking up practically all the space before the doorway, how could he even start to soothe the tension between them?

"Wije, please Wije. Let me in. I want to talk to Inina. Wije... Wije.... Wije!..."

This scene brought a host of eyes and ears to eavesdrop on them, including Moroman and Dulgunax. 

"This is hard to watch. Certainly not the way to spend your day." Moroman had his palm against the leaves that served to cover and heal his wounds as they were watching from a bridge away. It was also some metres above the platform where Zocrix was wrestling Wije out of position. 

"Agree wholeheartedly. Terrible, isn't it?" A familiar voice got his attention. 

"Yeah, it's... Wait, Jarbacoa?"

"It's me. The man in the flesh."

"Well, since you're here, let's watch the show together."

"Ehhhh, not interested in watching. We're going to intervene," said Wyolan.

"Intervene? Why?"

"Bringing them back together will be me and Jarbacoa's ultimate apology. We failed to save them in trial and nearly got everyone killed. Plus we tried to kill them ourselves."

"Like guilt is getting to everybody."

"It looks that way." He began his approach towards them. 

Moroman and Dulgunax looked on as he got nearer to the heart of the Yamaye's delegation's friction.

Working his way through bridges, steps, and walkways, they realised that someone was missing from his side: Jarbacoa. 

They turned their heads to see that he hadn't moved an inch. All he did was stare ahead with a blank expression.

"Why aren't you going with Wyolan?" Dulgunax beat his compatriot in his inquiry.

"Because those people freak me out."

"What do you mean?"

"When we were about to commit slaughter, some force came over me. It was... the not the nicest feeling, to say the least."

"Not nice feeling?" Moroman took a moment to permit what he said to sink in. "Is it witchcraft, then?"

"I don't know. I'll have to ask them if they are practitioners of such arts."

"Should you? Do you really think they will admit to such a thing? 

"We don't want another round of false accusations, do we? Being honest and direct is the best way to handle this."

They settled on this sensible line of logic. 

Why bother, Wyolan? Didn't you feel the dread I did? I know you felt it. If so, how could still try helping them, then? Those outsiders are just problematic. Leave them to their own dysfunction.

Wije's lower half refused to move. He was resolute in not letting him pass. The door would not open once his two feet never depart from their spots. Matolo never told him to keep Zocrix away from her, but he could tell she needed time to gather herself without an insensitive fool like him coming near, so he offered his body as the defence between letting him pay for insulting her at her weakest mentally and him getting inside.

"Hey, Wije. You okay out there?!" The grunts and shouts from beyond the space gave Yomil a twinge of restlessness. The overwhelming might of the soldiers returned him to a long-realised conclusion: he had to become stronger... for himself. Fighting for others would be pointless until he can stand up to any threat that dares to face him. This was not the first time an enemy was too much. When his family's home was being looted several years prior while his parents were out gathering water, the robber knocked him out while sleeping and grabbed everything. He didn't even have the chance to get a strike in so he could say he tried to fend off the thief. 

This was the first of many lost battles, gaining him the title of weakling. He was bullied for his past, despite his decent build and lineage of elite warriors from his mother's side. Every opportunity he had to guard his honour ended with broken bones, swollen lips, intolerable pain, and cuts and bruises. His parents loved him regardless, but he wanted to make them proud. He felt he was tarnishing their legacy by being weak. 

Strength matters in the end. And for Yomil, the Special Survival Course would push him into becoming someone few would dare provoke. At least he hoped so. 

"I'm fine! I don't need any help!" Wije told a clear lie. He wanted to deal with him alone. To hurt one of them meant he hurt everyone. He had to stop him, even with his long arms and more potent frame. His wounded hand didn't help as well. Zocrix had leverage over him, and he finally was able to use it to shove him to the side in order to get in.

He latched onto the handle and tried to swing the door off its hinges, but instead, it remained shut. The hordes of force he put into it did nothing to make it move. 

Wije got up, not checking if he ruined the wound dressing on hand, and geared to charge at him. As he was going to give Zocrix a revenge tackle, a pair of arms snapped him up. 

Where's Jarbacoa? This thought fleeted from him as the struggling Melanesian boy zapped all his brainpower. 

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you. Now get inside."

"How do you..."

"Just get inside and apologize. I'll explain how I know later."

His statement doubled his efforts in getting inside. As he did, however, the thing that prevented entry allowed him passage. 

A child pulled back the door to see what was all the commotion. 

"Zocrix, was it you making all that noise?"

He strolled in and went towards his target without replying. As the shock of seeing Wije being restrained got to the child, Zocrix made it to the central area where they were applying oils to the deceased girl just left of the ladder. He then turned to the third room to his right and walked inside, ignoring the blabbers produced nearby. 

"Matolo, I'm sorry." Darkness swept the knapsacks, sleeping mats, outed candles and their holders, and much of Matolo herself laying on her mat. Despite this, enough of her could be seen with the assistance of light sneaking in from the open entrance so that Zocrix didn't have to search much for her. Ensuring that he doesn't block the light source, he gave his apology. "Matolo, I didn't mean to be so rude and thoughtless. It's just that this is a difficult time for me."

"I understand."

"Really? Then do you forgive me?" 

She didn't bother to look at him as she had her arms folded and a sickened expression. "No. You thought of your own feelings and didn't care for anyone else." Her tone was a berating one. 

"I did?" He checked himself. The fact he said that proved his emotional stupidity. He realized he was wrong at that instant. He should've been more proactive in understanding others in how they interpret these trying times. 

"Well, I didn't notice."

"Well, you should've. Everyone felt bad that she died."

"I'm sure of that."

"Well then, I'll say my apologies once more. I'm sorry, Matolo. I hope you can understand me just as how I have come to understand you." He walked away to give her some breathing space. Zocrix believed his apology wasn't good. He felt he should've been more heartfelt and pure in his words. He knew what he had to do next time.

"Matolo wanted to get up so she could shut the door, but sadness made her immobile. She wanted to get over this soon, but it seemed like it would take longer than she intended. 

Looks like I'm done. Now let's get into our regular informational segment. 

Taiwan's (also known as Chinese Taipei) aboriginal population is around 2.2% of Taiwan's 23 million people. They are of Austronesian stock and are now comprised of thirteen tribes. The names of them are: Ami, Atayal, Paiwan, Bunun, Puyuma, Rukai, Tsou, Saisiyat, Tao (Yami), Thao, Kavalan, Taroko (also Truku), and Sakizaya. The main concentrations of Aborigines are in Orchid Island and the mountainous central and eastern parts of Taiwan.

Like many other indigenous groups, they have faced colonization mass murder, intermarriage, cultural erasure, possession of lands, and many other difficulties from their European, Chinese and Japanese colonizers. 

I hope this was as educational as usual. See you next chapter!