| Marc Pelzer | Fabian Wiestner
The rising sun announced the end of the night. Its rays seemed slightly redder than usual, as if they wanted to tell the story of the terrible events of the night. The remaining fog slowly dissipated, revealing scorched earth and the numerous victims of the nocturnal slaughter. In many places, individual tribal warriors mourned their companions or vice versa. Falcons flew in wide circles above the village, alarmed, but they did not spot any further dangers.
K'sar crouched beside his wounded bear. His bare chest was dotted with minor wounds and bloodstains. The fur over his shoulder was torn and hung loosely down his right side. But none of that bothered him. He looked at his companion: The giant bear had suffered an ugly blow to one of its eyes. It also had numerous wounds on its sides. K'sar deeply hoped that the bear would survive. He placed a hand on the eye wound and entered his companion's mind, soothing him.
A little further away, Tirion had gotten to his feet and staggered towards the bushes where Ja'nemeri had saved his life. He found her lying there, exhausted, protected by her wolf, which also remained hidden but allowed him to pass. She had a bandage wrapped around her upper body. It was soaked in blood; the wound must have been torn open. She smiled at him, just as she had done when they first met. "Crazy girl," Tirion thought, shaking his head with a grin. Together, they walked slowly back towards the village. There, the uninjured ones were already tending to their friends on improvised beds. After delivering Ja'nemeri to the others, he checked his own well-being. His cloak had taken a slight beating in the fight, and his clothes were partially charred from the use of fire. However, he hadn't received a scratch. He was tired, walked towards the shaman's hut, and sat down to rest on the bench in front of it.
By midday, all the fallen from the battlefields had been recovered. According to tradition, they were buried and planted with a tree. The people of the northern tribe believed that this facilitated their journey into the eternal expanses. Tirion liked the idea. He stood in front of the area, dotted with saplings, which would form a dense, albeit very small, forest in many years. Paying proper respect to the tribe's heroes, he observed the graves. These fighters had allowed their families and friends to continue living. However, he himself didn't feel like a hero at all. It had been his first battle, and if it were up to him, his last as well. The thought of the fight made him shudder. In the guild, he had been taught to use his magic for combat, but doing it effectively and taking lives had been simply abhorrent. What would his mentor have said now? A step approached from behind, and Tirion flinched slightly. It was the shaman. She stood next to him and silently gazed at the clearing. Without making a sound, tears began to run down the old woman's face. He wanted to say something, but there were no words to express what he had to say. So they stood silently next to each other.
After some time, Thuli wiped her cheeks dry and turned to the mage. "Let's eat something, you need to recover." In the midst of the emotional turmoil, he had indeed forgotten how parched he was and that he hadn't had a decent meal in two days.
In the main tent of the village, a stew had been cooked in a large cauldron. The fragrant food spread a pleasant aroma that lifted the somber mood somewhat. The stew tasted too salty, but no one complained. It was simply comforting to replenish the reserves after such a night. The magician and the shaman sat together at a small wooden table, one among many set up in the village square. Thuli initiated the conversation: "When I was a child, the elders decided to distance themselves from the world and live in seclusion. But you found us. These fanatics found us. I believe deep in our hearts, everyone has always known that we cannot run away from the world. It catches up to us, whether we want it or not."
Tirion stared at his wooden bowl. "If you wish, I won't tell anyone about your village, but be aware that the Guild already knows about you. After all, that's how I came across you."
Thuli turned her head and looked at him. "I am aware of that, Tirion, because it was I who provided this information to your Guild. Yesterday, you asked me how I knew your master, and I owe you an explanation. This seems like an appropriate moment." Astonished by this open confession, Tirion perked up his ears.
"When I was young, the conflict between the tribes had just ended. It had been a long, terrible war that forced our tribe to retreat to these lands. Previously, we lived in the great forest, now known as the Forest of Madness. It had always been exciting there, quite different from here. Restless as I was, one day I was overwhelmed by a longing for adventure, and I sneaked away to travel the world. I met Fyodor in the free city of Uduas and immediately fell in love with him. We traveled the world for a year without me ever revealing where I came from or who I was. But there came a moment when I confessed everything to him. When he was then summoned by his master to the Guild school, we faced a decision: I couldn't go with him, and he wouldn't be accepted by the tribe either, I didn't even know what to expect upon my return. So on that day, our paths diverged. As you know, Fyodor went to the Guild school, and I returned to the tribe." Thuli smiled at the thought of old times, and Tirion let out a sound of astonishment. He could never have imagined this. He had always thought his old mentor had told him everything, but only now he knew that had been far from the truth.
K'sar crouched beside his wounded bear. His bare chest was dotted with minor wounds and bloodstains. The fur over his shoulder was torn and hung loosely down his right side. But none of that bothered him. He looked at his companion: The giant bear had suffered an ugly blow to one of its eyes. It also had numerous wounds on its sides. K'sar deeply hoped that the bear would survive. He placed a hand on the eye wound and entered his companion's mind, soothing him.
A little further away, Tirion had gotten to his feet and staggered towards the bushes where Ja'nemeri had saved his life. He found her lying there, exhausted, protected by her wolf, which also remained hidden but allowed him to pass. She had a bandage wrapped around her upper body. It was soaked in blood; the wound must have been torn open. She smiled at him, just as she had done when they first met. "Crazy girl," Tirion thought, shaking his head with a grin. Together, they walked slowly back towards the village. There, the uninjured ones were already tending to their friends on improvised beds. After delivering Ja'nemeri to the others, he checked his own well-being. His cloak had taken a slight beating in the fight, and his clothes were partially charred from the use of fire. However, he hadn't received a scratch. He was tired, walked towards the shaman's hut, and sat down to rest on the bench in front of it.
By midday, all the fallen from the battlefields had been recovered. According to tradition, they were buried and planted with a tree. The people of the northern tribe believed that this facilitated their journey into the eternal expanses. Tirion liked the idea. He stood in front of the area, dotted with saplings, which would form a dense, albeit very small, forest in many years. Paying proper respect to the tribe's heroes, he observed the graves. These fighters had allowed their families and friends to continue living. However, he himself didn't feel like a hero at all. It had been his first battle, and if it were up to him, his last as well. The thought of the fight made him shudder. In the guild, he had been taught to use his magic for combat, but doing it effectively and taking lives had been simply abhorrent. What would his mentor have said now? A step approached from behind, and Tirion flinched slightly. It was the shaman. She stood next to him and silently gazed at the clearing. Without making a sound, tears began to run down the old woman's face. He wanted to say something, but there were no words to express what he had to say. So they stood silently next to each other.
After some time, Thuli wiped her cheeks dry and turned to the mage. "Let's eat something, you need to recover." In the midst of the emotional turmoil, he had indeed forgotten how parched he was and that he hadn't had a decent meal in two days.
In the main tent of the village, a stew had been cooked in a large cauldron. The fragrant food spread a pleasant aroma that lifted the somber mood somewhat. The stew tasted too salty, but no one complained. It was simply comforting to replenish the reserves after such a night. The magician and the shaman sat together at a small wooden table, one among many set up in the village square. Thuli initiated the conversation: "When I was a child, the elders decided to distance themselves from the world and live in seclusion. But you found us. These fanatics found us. I believe deep in our hearts, everyone has always known that we cannot run away from the world. It catches up to us, whether we want it or not."
Tirion stared at his wooden bowl. "If you wish, I won't tell anyone about your village, but be aware that the Guild already knows about you. After all, that's how I came across you."
Thuli turned her head and looked at him. "I am aware of that, Tirion, because it was I who provided this information to your Guild. Yesterday, you asked me how I knew your master, and I owe you an explanation. This seems like an appropriate moment." Astonished by this open confession, Tirion perked up his ears.
"When I was young, the conflict between the tribes had just ended. It had been a long, terrible war that forced our tribe to retreat to these lands. Previously, we lived in the great forest, now known as the Forest of Madness. It had always been exciting there, quite different from here. Restless as I was, one day I was overwhelmed by a longing for adventure, and I sneaked away to travel the world. I met Fyodor in the free city of Uduas and immediately fell in love with him. We traveled the world for a year without me ever revealing where I came from or who I was. But there came a moment when I confessed everything to him. When he was then summoned by his master to the Guild school, we faced a decision: I couldn't go with him, and he wouldn't be accepted by the tribe either, I didn't even know what to expect upon my return. So on that day, our paths diverged. As you know, Fyodor went to the Guild school, and I returned to the tribe." Thuli smiled at the thought of old times, and Tirion let out a sound of astonishment. He could never have imagined this. He had always thought his old mentor had told him everything, but only now he knew that had been far from the truth.