Back to the bun-buns

Several weeks had passed since my first discussion with Eve, and our situation was growing dire. Food had become scarce, with the occasional large bird providing a meager source of sustenance for our weary group. Just last sundown, we reluctantly slaughtered one of our horses, a decision that not only weighed heavy on our hearts but also diminished our mobility.

Every night brought a recurring dream where I conversed with the mysterious deity known only as "Red". Each time I pressed him for his motives, he skillfully evaded a direct answer. In these dreams, he would present me with a golden slab and a knife, urging me to carve my hand-print into it—an act he cryptically referred to as a "contract". I pieced together fragments of information from these encounters, pondering their significance during our arduous journey.

As our provisions dwindled, I knew action was imperative. Gathering the tribe around the campfire at dusk, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

"Attention, everyone," I began, projecting my voice to ensure all could hear. The community fell silent, a testament to the authority and respect I had earned.

We sat huddled on rocks or the dirty ground strewn with pebbles, evidence of our diminished state. It was clear our condition was far from optimal, but it beat the alternative—facing community extinction.

"I've been visited by a human-like figure in my dreams these past weeks," I continued, my words punctuated by the crackling of the fire and the occasional gasp from my tribe. "This being claims to be of divine origin."

Cora, with her two daughters nestled against her for warmth and comfort, spoke up with a hint of skepticism. "Nothing good ever comes from dealings with humans. Why bring this to us?"

I met her gaze, my tone calm yet firm. "Because he claims he can save our tribe."

A murmur rippled through the gathered members, expressions ranging from hopeful to fearful.

"I propose a vote," I declared, raising my voice to quell any objections before they could form. "If more than half of us agree, we will accept this entity's terms, however evil or mischievous they may be."

I paused, allowing the weight of my words to sink in, ensuring everyone understood the gravity of the decision.

"If less than half agree," I continued, "we will continue our journey in the wilderness, preparing for the worst while hoping for the best to come."

The fire crackled softly as silence descended, broken only by the shifting of restless feet and the flickering shadows cast by the flames. Slowly, hands began to rise in assent, the gesture a mix of desperation and tentative hope.

Old Margo, her weathered face and downward facing ears illuminated by the firelight, spoke up with a voice filled with wisdom and resolve. "I've seen more years than most here. If this is to be our path, let it be known that I, at sixty-five, cast my lot with this tribunal. I'll bear the responsibility, whatever comes on all of our behalf."

Her words carried weight, and more hands joined hers in the air, a testament to the unity and shared resolve of our tribe.

As the evening wore on and discussions ensued, the final count settled at twenty-five out of our forty-three members in agreement. The decision was made, and as we retired to our makeshift tents for the night, the air buzzed with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

As I prepared to meet the entity known as "Red" once more, I slowly whisked myself to sleep.