Chapter 25 Becoming One with the Tribe

The heart of the tribe lay in the intricate web of sapling structures they called home. Woven with expertise, they stood strong against winds and rains. Wanting to be truly one among them, I began constructing my own shelter. My hands, unfamiliar with the delicate dance of sapling weaving, struggled initially.

"Ah! That twist there, it's all wrong," Ninsianna's voice came from behind me, tinged with amusement.

I looked up, slightly embarrassed, "This is harder than it looks."

She chuckled, "Let me show you." Sitting beside me, she took a sapling and started weaving, her hands moving in a rhythmic dance. "It's all in the wrist," she said, demonstrating.

I tried imitating her, and with her guidance, it started to come together. "Thank you," I said. "There's so much to learn."

Her eyes twinkled, "And so much to share. Tell me about your travels."

And so, we spoke, the rhythm of our weaving matching the rhythm of our conversation.

A few days later, with my shelter looking more like home, I sat with Kadash and Surim, helping them shape their spears.

"Why are your spears so different?" Kadash inquired, pointing at the unique design of my spear.

"They've evolved over time and place," I replied. "Each spear tells a story."

Surim's eyes widened, "Can you share one?"

And so, I began a tale from my past, weaving it with lessons and experiences, the boys listening with rapt attention.

But our conversation was cut short by the rallying call of a hunt. The boys, their freshly crafted spears in hand, ran to join the group.

The hunt was a success. The tribe was in high spirits, and as the evening approached, Balum gestured for me to join him. With the prized liver of the antelope between us, he began, "This is a hunter's reward. You have the eyes of a hunter."

I smiled, "I've hunted in many terrains, seen many worlds. But this, with you all, it's different."

Balum nodded, "The land, the tribe, they sing to us. They're part of us. Tell me, in your many travels, what did you hunt for?"

I paused, reflecting, "Purpose, belonging, understanding."

Balum took a bite, chewing thoughtfully, "And have you found them?"

I looked around, the tribe busy in their evening chores, laughter and chatter filling the air, "I believe I'm getting there."

As night blanketed the village, a large fire danced in the center, casting animated shadows on the faces of the gathered tribespeople. They sat in a circle, the crackling of the fire accompanying the hum of expectation. Naman, the old shaman, stood up, silhouetted against the flames. His voice, when he spoke, was clear and resonant.

"In the time before, when stars spoke clearer to our ancestors, a great one descended from the sky. His brilliance shone brighter than the midday sun, and where he walked, the land whispered of power and knowledge," Naman began, his hands moving rhythmically to the tale.

The tribe, young and old, listened intently. The older ones had heard this tale many times before, but it was in its repetition that the story lived on.

"These beings from the sky, they were the first. Before us, before the animals, before even the trees. They watched as the world turned and changed. But they were not alone. Other entities emerged, both from the land and from the vastness above."

Naman paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "A great war broke out between these beings. It shook the very foundations of the world, changing landscapes, reshaping mountains and valleys. And in the aftermath of this celestial conflict, the victors chose the best among our ancestors. They led them to wondrous cities, places of unimaginable beauty and power. These cities, hidden from most, are where the chosen of the gods reside."

I was leaning forward now, absorbing every word. This narrative was giving context to many of the things I had observed and wondered about.

"The chosen ones, they learned from the gods. They were bestowed with powers and knowledge. In return, they served the gods, maintaining balance in the world," Naman continued.

A young child asked, "Are they still among us, these chosen ones?"

Naman smiled, "Ah, young one, they are. Hidden, yet always watching. Living in their majestic cities, they occasionally venture out, guardians of the old ways and keepers of balance."

The fire seemed to dim slightly as Naman concluded his tale, "We, the tribe, remember. We keep the tales alive. We respect the land, the sky, and the stories they tell. For we are all connected, threads in the great tapestry of life."

I sat back, contemplating. The world was so much larger, so much more intricate than I'd known. The cities, the chosen ones, the gods from the stars; I had to find out more.