Mofi was returning from the village to his home. The Trikru had assembled and heard heated words from their heda regarding the Skaikru. They were not to be trusted or spoken to, and if found outside of their camp were to be killed or captured and brought in to exchange for bounty. Mofi didn’t trust them any more than his people did but he did take a sort of curious fascination with them that he wouldn’t admit.
Maybe that was why, when he was nearing home and heard a rustling in the woods nearby, he took cover behind a row of bushes and tried to catch a glimpse of the outsider. What he saw only astounded him though and as soon as he was closer, he rushed forward from the brush in the other’s path to cut him off.
“Hod op!” he shouted. Sure, the boy could turn and run but if he was anything like Mofi (and judging from appearance he was), he would be frozen the same way, left without words as he looked into the face that mirrored his own.