Weak and on the verge of unconsciousness, Aries found himself cradled by the leader's strong arms. As they approached the heart of the village, the other tribesmen dispersed to their own huts, leaving a trail of fading footsteps in their wake. Eventually, they arrived at the leader's humble abode, a refuge from the harsh realities of their world. Gently, they laid Aries down on a simple cot, the coolness of the surface a soothing contrast to the warmth of his feverish skin.
Aries' gaze wandered, his blurred vision catching glimpses of the village beyond. The settlement's imperfections were evident—the small, flimsy huts cobbled together from weathered wood, a testament to the meager resources available. In stark contrast, his memories of the lush forest were painted with images of towering trees, their trunks thick and strong, swaying in the breeze. But here, the dry, unforgiving land only yielded spindly trees that struggled to stand tall.
Amid his contemplations, the entrance to the leader's hut shivered softly, revealing a long, thin leather curtain that fluttered in the breeze. Aries' gaze shifted toward the entry, where an old man and a robust tribesman emerged. Their presence commanded attention, and the leader rose from his seat, offering a respectful welcome to the chief and the elder.
A wry "Hmmmm..." escaped the chief's lips, a subtle acknowledgment of their presence. The tension in the air was palpable, and the elder intervened, explaining the chief's discontent. Recent hunting failures, attributed to the absence of the leader—the very man standing before them—had left the village's food stores depleted, casting a shadow over their prospects.
The elder's words were measured, bearing the weight of wisdom accumulated over a lifetime. He dismissed the chief's mood with a casual dismissal, reminding all present that complaining would accomplish nothing. The chief's gaze remained stern, but his displeasure was momentarily derailed by the elder's pragmatism.
The leader's inner turmoil was evident, a mixture of guilt for his impulsive decision and a quiet pride in his choice. Defending himself, he faced the chief with unwavering conviction. "I'm sorry, but when I heard that this kid was missing, I couldn't help but check for myself if he survived or not, and as you can see, I made the right decision."
The chief's response was tinged with skepticism, an acknowledgment of the potential consequences of prioritizing one life over others. "The life of a kid can cause the loss of others. I hope you really made the right decision," the chief stated, his tone laden with both caution and frustration.
The elder interjected once more, cutting through the tension with a sharp edge of practicality. "If you have the time to complain, maybe you have the time to hunt again," he quipped, his words a reminder of the communal responsibility they all shared.
The leader, caught between guilt and steadfast belief, wrestled with the ramifications of his decision. While he acknowledged the weight of his actions, he remained resolute. "So how's the kid?" the chief inquired, his curiosity piqued by the boy who had disrupted the village's routine.
"He's just tired from our journey. I didn't expect that we would find him in the forest," the leader replied, revealing the boy's exhaustion.
Both the elder and the chief were taken aback by this news, their astonishment mirroring each other's expressions. "But how did he survive traveling from the village to the forest with nothing? I heard that some saw him heading in the direction of the forest but they didn't see him carrying anything," the chief mused, struggling to reconcile the apparent contradiction.
The leader admitted to sharing the same bewilderment, his tone conveying a sense of respect for Aries' resilience. "Well, I don't know as well, but what's more surprising was when we found him." And so, the leader launched into the story of their discovery—a barricaded camp nestled within the forest, a testament to Aries' ingenuity and resourcefulness. A garden teeming with nourishing fruits, potent herbs, and valuable mushrooms flourished nearby. The remains of defeated foes—a wolf's skull, the skull of a boar—stood as trophies to his survival prowess.
As the leader recounted the story, it became clear that Aries was not an ordinary child. The chief and the elder marveled at the boy's tenacity, his ability to fend for himself in the wilderness. His weaponry, tools, and even the potion he had concocted surpassed those of seasoned hunters, marking him as an exceptional presence within their community.
The leader's hands cradled Aries' creations, presenting them to the chief and the elder as evidence of the boy's capabilities. Both elders shared a common sentiment—the recognition that Aries was anything but ordinary.
The elder's playful words nudged at the chief's restraint, aiming to stir a reaction. "Maybe he made the right decision. Don't you think?" the elder inquired, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. Meanwhile, Aries listened intently from his resting place, allowing his actions to speak louder than words.
Their dialogue reached a pivotal point as the chief articulated his intentions. "Tomorrow, send him to the village hall. I will talk to the kid," the chief commanded, his authoritative tone settling the matter. With their purpose fulfilled, the chief, the elder, and the leader exited the hut, their presence dissipating like whispers carried on the wind.
Left in solitude, Aries embraced the tranquility that enveloped him, his weary body surrendering to the call of rest. The chapter concluded, yet Aries' story continued to unfold, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake.