hache was left with his arm being cut into by his fingernails as to keep himself from rashing out. Though the elder was no brute he could be unreasonable at times in hache's eyes. He agreed that with the battles there were no chances of the getting along to well but to believe the only way to survive was to punch and cut our way was ubserd to him. Walking away with the last words about his mask echoing in his heads hache aloud himself a moment of true anger. As young girls spoke of the boy in secret and the young rugged men spoke in justly of him he tried his best to get out of there sight back to his house. The heat and smell of blood hit him quick as hache opened the door to his vacant lot of a house. The food had dried and his sacks of rye and rice sat in the corner. He felt lonely as he layed down on his hammock and sat his mask down next to him. He loved the thing, kept it with him everywhere he went. Thinking more and more about the encounter he wondered what he had done. The others that he almost attacked were so... pretty. He hated to let it get to him but the two girls that he almost skinned alive, he would let such pretty girls go to waste what was wrong with him. They made him blush now, he began to wonder if all women in the igan village were that pretty and began to think it over as his stomach growled.