After the sobbing diminished and the people had no tears left, they returned to the tribe centre by nightfall. The darkness covered the grimness of the events from last night, as did arrays of flowers placed over the blood. A smoothed trunk lay down, holding empty, hard shells of fruit ready to be filled with the vile liquid shared on ceremonies. Ebskil refused to drink any and instead, monitored the crushed faith of his tribe. The more he witnessed people losing themselves to an intoxicated state, the more guilt ate him. He should’ve done more. He should’ve died instead of so many others.

“Heylo,” Momil greeted, his bowl half-empty already.

They hadn’t spoken since the gunders' triumph and avoided each other during the village cleanup. It hurt Ebskil as much as it made him anxious. Had Momil realised the truth? Had he seen him fail to use a phlame? Would he expose him to the tribe? The possibilities worried Ebskil more than the wounds on his arm from the brawl with the gunder.

“Have ya seen the boy?” Ebskil blurted in panic, referring to the child with the broken leg. “Is he okay?”

“Ah… Nah. None of his family made it except an aunt. His leg don’t work.”

“Tomorrow will be better. Our heads will be clearer to think of a new way to live. He is young and will heal. Until then, the tribes people will help them out,” Ebskil said to comfort his brother and himself. It didn’t work.

“Why didn’t ya use ya phlame?” Momil asked abruptly.

Ebskil’s breath caught. “Wha?”

“Ya phlame! Ya could ‘ave. Ya phlame impressed everyone at da manhood ceremony. Why didn’t ya use it?! Why? Many died last night. Me friends died. Why didn’t ya use ya bloody phlame?! Ya could ‘ave saved ‘em!”

The words hit Ebskil like a club, beating him until his soul crumpled into a heap. His legs weakened at the accusation. First, he wanted to defend himself and scream that it wasn’t his fault but he hesitated. Thinking over it, the fault was truly his. All the other tribesmen did their duty and protected their families. What did he do? He only ran into danger to chase Momil, not to be a hero. The realisation of this selfishness hit him harder than Momil’s words. Why was he such a coward?

“I am not worthy,” he said, more to himself than to his brother.

“Worthy of what?!”

“Nothing. Just drink and forget the woes of today,” Ebskil said with a sigh and walked off.

He didn’t know where he intended to go but apparently, it was somewhere away from civilisation. The forest grew denser around him but his feet marched on, seeking solace in the night’s silence. The nocturnal creatures cawed and scurried around him. Rustles in the bushes prickled his skin. The wafts of smoke from the bonfire diminished and signalled him to turn around. However, he wandered off path to tempt his fate. This gave him the comfort of sinking into this despair in private and release the emotions building inside. An hour passed before he felt empty of sorrow and ready to return to a nearby path. Yet, something stopped him.

Up ahead, orange flames danced to the ground. Approaching it with trepidation, Ebskil exhaled when he saw it was neither a wildfire nor unknown phlame. The once-imprisoned travellers huddled around the fire for warmth and light. They each sat on a fallen log, talking and laughing as if the gunders never attacked. Stranger still was the long material placed over their legs. Ebskil had never seen hides used to blanket people; the forest remained humid most of the year and they slept outside to cool down.

A twig snapped under his feet and Wildem spotted him first. “Oh great. The weak warrior is prowling us.”

“No wonder they treat us so terribly: you insult them with every breath you take!” Reefer complained and looked to Ebskil. “Was it Skel? Ebskil? What are you doing away from your people?”

“I-ah—”

“See, he was spying on us for his tribe!” Wildem exclaimed. “By dawn, they will be chewing on our flesh and gnawing on our bones!”

“Cannibals live towards the chuckil plants,” Ebskil blurted to defend himself. The group stared at him in horror. “It is far away. You are safe. We don’t eat people. I was just seeking space because of…”

“Join us,” Reefer said and elbowed Wildem before he had the chance to refused. Ebskil's body accepted before his mind did, and before he realised, he sat next to the girl. “Do you want roots?”

Fresh guilt churned Ebskil’s guts. The group had no food apart from their own gathering attempts. The tribe already ostrasized them; rumours speculated their presence created an unbalance in the way of life and caused the gunders to go wild. Now, they were left to huddle away from the comfort of people.

“I will bring some dried meat later when the tribe is resting,” he promised to ease his discomfort.

“Lies,” Wildem mumbled.

“I promise. Ya can even have this to exchange.” In his hand, he offered his leather bracelet to signify his tribe. Wildem took it without hesitation.

“We were just talking about food for our travels,” Reefer said in attempt to start a flowing conversation.

“Are ya leaving?”

“Tomorrow. We must keep going if we are to reach the Conquer River by two days time. Besides, we can’t risk staying in case those creatures attack again. What even were they?”

“Gunders. I think. I haven’t seen them act so feral before. During mating season they become wild but not so savage to destroy homes in packs,” Ebskil mumbled to himself, lost in the memories of them. When he looked up, the travellers stared at him strangely. Were they still frightened? No. There was an odd look in their eyes. He cleared his throat. “I wish to thank ya for saving us. Without ya help—”

“You would all be dead,” Wildem finished. Ebskil didn't argue.

“Do you know which path to take to the Conquer River?”

The river rested toward the rising sun. Stories of Conquer gods passed between forest tribes but no one took interest; the tribes had their own gods to worry over. The Valley tribe were no different except for Ebskil. Sometimes, he grew curious of the world outside their clan. He couldn’t determine if he received this wonder from his mother or he wanted answers about his strange appearance and lack of phlame. But how could he leave his tribe? He was to be chief in a few years and he had no phlame to fight. The idea to travel was ludicrous.

“We can find a way. We always do,” Reefer said, smiling at Wildem and Pend.

In that moment, while proudness shone in her blue eyes, she looked as stunning as an enchantress. Ebskil couldn’t find words to explain the appeal of her appearance. He had seen other tribes produce women more beautiful but Reefer had a natural prettiness. The way her hair remained in unmanageable, wild waves and her skin tarnished by freckles and scars created a realness.

“Where have you travelled?” Ebskil asked in fascination.

“I started at the Dasna Coves. My clan is from there. Then, as I journeyed inland, I met with Wildem who just completed his own quest. We teamed up to return to the mountains. On our way, we rescued Pend. That’s how we all ended up together.”

“So ya seeking the mountains.”

“Yes.”

“Then ya shouldn’t be goin toward Conquer River.”

“Excuse me?” Reefer asked, her cheery expression dropped.

The shift in mood flustered Ebskil. “I-Nah-Well I just meant I know an easier path.”

“Unless you plan to be our guide, keep your opinions to yourself,” Wildem snarled. “The mountain tribe map directs us to Conquer River and that is where we shall go.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You meant no harm,” Reefer sighed and her original, carefree smile returned. “Have you ventured to the mountains often?”

“Sometimes. The furthest was when I was young but I don’t remember it. Me ma and pa called on the forest tribes to find me. By the time I was tracked down, I passed out near the forest edge.”

Pend’s eyes widened from under his cloth mask. “Rad.”

“Wha?”

“It means he’s in awe,” Reefer explained.

“It wasn’t that great. It was an accident.”

“Do weird things happen to you a lot?” Reefer suddenly asked. “Wandering great distances, defeating beasts with a stick, having white hair and more stuff like that?”

Having no phlame, Ebskil added in his own head. “I’m not sure how weird that is.”

“You seem like one of us. We all have wild stories which has bound us together.”

“Oh.” But you act like heroes while I run away from my problems. I am not part of your group.

“My point is, if you wish to join us…”

Wildem’s expression morphed into pure hatred and disgust from across the fire. “Absolutely no way! You can’t be serious, R. That is the dumbest thing you have ever said. Even dumber than these forest primates. No! He is not joining us!”

“I cannot leave my tribe,” Ebskil said, trying to diminish the tension. “I can help ya pack though. Our tribe owes ya. When will you leave tomorrow?”

“As early as we can.”

“I best get ya meat then.”

Just as they told, when the sun peaked through the treetops high above, the nomads left. The tribe watch them with wary eyes; in their mourning, the travellers presence became more concerning. They believed the strangers turned the gunders' foul. Ebskil mulled over the idea from a tree but instead of hate, it heightened his curiosity. He wondered what other strange things they encountered and wished he asked last night. Now, his questions would go unanswered.

“Pack ya things.”

Ebskil yelped in surprise as Ora popped up from behind him, managing to climb the tall tree with ease despite her age. “What the bloody—”

“Ya journey has begun.”

What is she mumbling about? She must have drank too much potions last night, Ebskil thought. “Ya should rest. The new spirits must be draining ya energy.”

“Dis is ya journey and ya end.”

“You make no sense.” Like usual.

Ora smiled. “Da hero is not listening ta me.”

“I am no hero! Look what happened when the gunders attacked!"

“The spirits told me ya protected Momil.”

“That isn't—”

“It is time for ya to choose a path. Follow the strangers or stay with da tribe. One direction will give ya answers and another will give ya comfort. The choice is for ya, Ebskil the hero.”

“For the last time, I am no hero! Stop this nonsense. I'm not in the mood. Just accept your sight was wrong and I am not a hero.”

“Not a hero yet. Ya must overcome barriers of da throat, hands, feet, mind and heart. Only den, can ya fulfil ya fate, that is, if ya choose da right path.”

“What if I don’t want to be a hero? What if I just want to be normal?”

Ora ignored him and crawled down the tree. The melodic hum which followed her contrasted against the seriousness of their conversation. It did nothing to alleviate Ebskil’s darkening mood. When he looked back towards the travellers path, they disappeared and for some unexplainable reason, he felt left behind.