| Marc Pelzer | Fabian Wiestner
The soft pad had to be straw. He was not cooled down and felt a blanket over him. There was a pleasant scent of some wild berries in the air. His throat was parched. Expecting to be blinded, the young mage cautiously opened his eyes. But contrary to this, he found himself in the dark in one of the huts. He had a slight headache and was very thirsty. Bedded on a kind of sleeping mat, Tirion found himself on the ground next to an unlit fireplace. He rose, put the blanket aside and patted his clothes clean. Then he left the small hut.
How much time had passed since the magic had knocked him unconscious? Had the girl survived? Tirion hoped so. The sun was low in the sky. It was late afternoon. The fresh, cool air was refreshing and he took a long, deep breath. The headache eased a little. A young woman had been waiting for him to step out, but left him enough space to realize it himself. The eyes of the two met. The mage took a step towards her, while the woman indicated that he should follow her.
Tirion was led to Thuli, as he had expected. She was sitting on a bench in her hut. Next to her was a small wooden table on which stood a teapot and a mug, which were joined by another mug when he entered. He looked questioningly into her face as he reached out for one of them. She nodded, took the pot and filled it with tea. The tea warmed and woke him up. The feeling of strength returned to him. Just when he was about to ask what had become of the girl, the door burst open. It almost knocked her off its hinges. The big bearded man with the leather hood, who had woken him before the ritual, was standing in the doorway, a hawk sat on his shoulders. The man made no attempt to apologize for the sudden intrusion. He caught sight of Tirion and seemed to consider for a brief moment if he should speak, but then firmly reported the reason for his disturbance. "Strangers are prowling around the village. They are armed and there are many of them. I have seen over three dozen in the west alone. They have crossed the river and know our secret paths. By nightfall they will be here. What shall we do?!"
Tirion was impressed and wondered if this man managed in any way to see with the eyes of the bird. Just in the moment the mage was examining him at length, the man turned his head and looked directly at him. It was frightening, the eyes revealed a sober determination that only few people were able to express. Tirion's gaze wandered to the ground. Then Thuli spoke up, "Tell K'sar to prepare the defence, we will not back down should these people try to disturb our peace. Fight back!" The man tilted his head and disappeared without making the slightest noise.
There was a flurry of activity in the camp. K'sar Guthun, a stocky man with long white-grey hair and a thick beard, was agitated. Never would he have suspected that the time of violence would return. As far as he could remember, his great-grandfather had told him of the war with the southern tribe. Since then, the northern tribe had retreated to the plains and cut themselves off from the world. Apparently, however, that had not helped either. It did, however, pay off somewhat: They had never failed to keep their fangs sharp. Even if the warriors hadn't been used for generations, the tradition had remained. He was one of them. Now he stood in his hut and looked his wife deep in the eye. She withstood his gaze. She made no move to stop him or to talk to him about what was about to happen. And that was exactly why he loved her. His family's heirloom, a long, curved sword equipped with extra blades, shone dangerously in the reddish light shining through the window. His wife handed it to him ceremoniously and he accepted it. Then he bent down, kissed her forehead and strode out into the twilight. Outside the hut lay a bear, not just any bear, but his companion. When he smelled K'sar, he rose. The full-grown and therefore huge bear was taller than him on all fours. Together they moved towards an already gathered group of other bears and warriors. They fell silent at the sight of their leader. Many of them were young and inexperienced, but well trained. K'sar waited and with him came other tribe members and their companions. These were not warriors, but hunters or otherwise experienced in battle. Although wolves, birds, lynx, deer and bears were all gathered in one place, there were no problems. The bonds were strong and focused between the companions. In total, there were about fifty fighters called to defend the tribe. That was perhaps a tenth of the tribe. K'sar spoke in a loud voice so that all could hear him, "We do not have an easy night ahead of us my brothers and sisters. There are people out there who want to harm us, who want to hurt us, who want to kill us. You must have heard by now that we are outnumbered by the attackers. But we have companions and friends. We know the plains. This is our home and we will defend it! We will fight back! We will prevail!" The flashing of claws and swords, of eyes and teeth, filled the falling night menacingly for a moment. Then K'sar Guthun divided the people into groups and assigned them areas to defend. He himself would face the largest group of enemies in the west. Quickly, the collection of people and animals regrouped and hurried to their positions. Visibility was poor, but K'sar had assigned a lynx man to each group, who could see in the night without difficulty because of his companion's abilities.
Darkness had settled over the plain and a light veil of mist accompanied the spreading cold. Although his upper body was only covered by a shoulder skin, K'sar did not freeze. Adrenaline overrode all other sensations. He lay with his bear in a tiny hollow that was just big enough for the two of them. From here he had a good view of the path leading to the village or the hill the attackers would otherwise cross. It was not long before silhouettes appeared in the moonlight. They let the attackers come closer, so that they were standing between those hidden in hollows and in the tall grass. Then all at once a roar arose that would have taken the devil's breath away. He gripped his sword tighter and it started.