time passes

It has been thirty cycles of seven nights since my last communion with Red. The absence of dreams leaves a palpable void, and doubts about the reality of our pact weigh heavily upon us. Each night, I find myself staring into the darkness, searching for answers that refuse to materialize.

Despite our lingering uncertainty, a subtle transformation has swept throughout our tribe. Hunting has become more fruitful, as if an unseen hand guides our spears and arrows to their targets. We move with heightened alertness, our senses keenly attuned to the slightest rustle in the underbrush. Energy courses through us, replenishing our weary bodies and fortifying our spirits against the harsh realities of our existence.

The sick and infirm among us have turned to Red with silent entreaties, sending out what we now call "transmissions" of their thoughts and hopes. Although no tangible response comes forth, those who send these transmissions often experience accelerated recoveries—sometimes in less than half the usual time. It's a baffling phenomenon that offers a glimmer of hope amidst our uncertainties.

One poignant incident occurred when Eve, lost in thought while stirring a simmering stew over the crackling campfire, inadvertently sent a transmission to Red. In an instant, the bubbling concoction vanished in a blinding flash of light—a phenomenon we now reverently refer to as an "offering." Since then, we've learned that dedicating at least half of our food as offerings ensures greater success in the hunt on the following day. It's as if our sacrifices resonate with Red's mysterious whims, aligning the natural order in our favor.

Recently, a young member of our tribe, on the cusp of adulthood yet still unnamed, was discovered hoarding a few morsels from the offerings. This revelation sparked quiet murmurs of concern among us, for we've come to understand that our collective prosperity hinges on our adherence to these rituals. When we falter in our devotions, the ever-changing landscape seems to withhold its bounty, testing our resolve and faith in the God of Chaos' providence.

Amidst these trials, Leia, wife to Paul, joyously announced her pregnancy. Despite our nomadic lifestyle and precarious circumstances, we gathered under the open sky to celebrate this blessing. The ceremony, steeped in tradition and hope, underscored a growing belief that Red, the enigmatic god of chaos, watches over us with a capricious yet benevolent eye.

As we continue our journey through this untamed wilderness, navigating the delicate balance between survival and reverence for Red, we find ourselves bound together by a shared sense of purpose and resilience. Each day brings new challenges and revelations, testing our faith and resolve as we strive to unravel the mysteries of our divine benefactor.