The tribe suffered a horrendous blow to their numbers and hopeful spirits. When dawn rose, it signalled a gruesome reality rather than a fresh start. Ebskil left the cave, where a limited number of men hid for the night, to find his life destroyed. The smell hit him first; the foul ordor spoke of rot and death. Then, the damage came into view. The huts scattered the clearing, claws marked the surrounding giant trees and bodies, both human and beast, lay in pools of dark liquid. It was enough to make his stomach churn and he swallowed the bile rising in his throat, trying to copy the strength of his father.

Zerkil acted life a true chief and warrior. After a devastating exhale, which spoke volumes of emotion, he turned to his men and gave orders. Every man went to a body and moved it near the exit of the territory, toward the designated family burial grounds. After a count, the dead were taken to a sight for burial with a seedling. Their tribe of a eighty-four turned into fifty-one overnight; the forest gods won more trees this time.

As the final bodies left the tribe, Ebskil took initiative and went to the ropes. New men followed his lead which made his chest drop. He felt unworthy to be looked towards; he couldn't fight off any gunders and because of that, they killed more people. No one should copy his example. Yet, he pushed the daunting truth to the back of his mind and focused on the task at hand.

With a steady grip, he undid the knots and levered the baskets — full of traumatised women and children — to the ground. Many cried over missing family members which Ebskil handled, as ordered by his father. Uneasy and lost, he directed them towards the winter food stash to seek comfort from full stomachs. However, the best distraction came from the nomadic strangers; they entertained the children with their odd phlames for hours. Ebskil wanted to join, ignoring his lacking qualities and responsibility, but felt his father's eyes watch him; he needed to prove himself after failing to be a hero.

The afternoon came quickly and with it, the tribe prepared for the funeral. Everyone dressed in traditional costumes, including bright green leaves, flowers and body paint, then went to their own family's burial grounds. At each location, relatives performed their dance of life to symbolise the passing and birth of a soul; the forest gave them life, which they needed to return. Hence, they forest gods demanded any death replenish the forest with a token like a seedling.

While this occurred, Ebskil followed his father to each burial; thankfully, none of their family suffered loss of a relative.

"Keep ya chin high," Zerkil said, his voice cracking. "Da people need someone ta look toward."

"That shouldn't be me," Ebskil blurted. Despair washed over him at the suffering of his friends. Ora foretold he was a hero but why couldn't he save his own tribe? It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he inherit a phlame?

"It has ta be. Ya our future chief. Show da people ya strength dat will protect dem."

"Nah! I don't deserve such honour! I couldn't save anyone! So many people died and—"

"Sometimes, da forest demands payment for what we take. No one can stop dat. It is da gods' will and part o' life. So keep ya head high and find hope for others."

Despite his father's words, Ebskil struggled to stop diving into darkness. The stranger's words popped into his mind. Are you a cursed child? It made him scoff.

"Maybe I am cursed."

Zerkil stopped suddenly and grabbed Ebkil's shoulders. "Never speak like dat! Ya not cursed!"

"But I have no phlame!"

"Does a phlame get us water? Does a phlame find food? Nah. Ya mind does. Ya mulacha does," his father explained, using their traditional language for guiding optimism. "Ya mother barks this at me everyday. It makes me a chief, not my phlame. Okay?"

Ebskil swallowed past the lump in his throat. The words embraced him like a warm blanket and after the ordeal of death, he struggled to keep from crying like the men were expected to do. Not trusting his emotions if he spoke, he replied by a nod. This satisfied his father enough for them to continue to the next burial grounds to offer their presence.