I opened my eyes to a new day filled with hope. I was about to step out of my tent. When I turned to take my fur cloak, I remembered it was not there. I had left it with my bison, so that it would get used to my scent. As I stepped out, Annabel and Ygritte were waiting for me. Their eyes sparkled, and in their hands was my cloak. But it was not as it used to be. It was larger, more impressive, and lighter. They placed it on my shoulders together, then each kissed my cheek before returning to their duties. For them, duty always came first, to work for the good of the tribe.
I turned toward my bison. Its meal was finished, the grass eaten, the meat reluctantly consumed. This pleased me. I whistled, and our eyes met. Slowly, it was beginning to adapt. I refreshed its food, stroked its back as it ate. It needed more time to grow accustomed, but I knew the day would come.
When I reached the village square, everything seemed ready. The place for fire, the seats prepared, the display of our equipment and traps, all stood in place. First I would introduce myself, tell them my purpose. At the end, I would give them my demand. They would leave their tribe and join mine, submit under my command. If they wanted to live, they had no other choice.
As I stepped out of my tent, I saw the worker women enter. They were preparing it for what was to come.
Everything was moving as it should. I asked myself, "What was the worst that could happen?"
And then the time arrived. I saw them approaching in the distance, the group gathering as they neared my village. I reminded my people at once. "No one will show disrespect. They are our guests. Whoever stands against me, will face me," I declared.
At the entrance of my village, I welcomed them. I raised my voice proudly, "Welcome, chief. You honor me with your presence. You accepted my invitation and came. Tonight, you and your clan will feast on meat." With a gesture of my hand, I invited them inside. Xeptolyn expressed his gratitude and walked with me. His companions, however, kept their eyes scanning everything around them.
I caught their gazes. Our furs, the animals we had hunted, the cart, the bison, the war spears, and the rest of our equipment… Their pupils widened with each sight. It was an expression of awe mixed with fear. Inside, I smiled. Because I knew fear is always good, fear keeps one alive.
I showed them where to sit. The chief sat at the front, his warriors behind him, and my chosen men among them. I stood tall with my spears on my back, the stones hidden behind my cloak.
And my voice thundered across the square:
"I am Chief Ragno, Scream Of Fire, leader of this tribe and great warrior. I salute you all! Tonight, you will taste the meat before you. It is fresh, it was hunted for you. But not only meat, I bring you ideas, strength, and possibilities. Now I will show you why I am called Scream Of Fire!"
My steps were heavy. I advanced toward the pile, secretly holding the stones in my hands. I knelt before the heap. Everyone waited eagerly for my next move. I struck the stones together. Sparks appeared, then a small flame. I drew a deep breath. With one full exhale, the flame grew into a blaze. In a heartbeat, the great woodpile turned to fire. Flames rose high, devouring the night, lighting the sky.
On the faces of the crowd were astonishment, fear, and admiration. As the flames danced, my eyes found Myr. The dark-skinned woman's eyes still held tears, but within them burned another fire, one of desire and longing. At that moment, a surge of power rose inside me. Then I sat among them, and we spoke. I told them I was not evil, only a man trying to survive. They listened, nodding in agreement. Everything seemed to move in my favor.
But then I saw Cycnopy rushing from behind my tent. His face bore an expression I will never forget, filled with worry and fear. His breath was ragged, and his cry echoed through the night:
"Wolves!"
His words had barely struck the air when at least twenty wolves stormed toward us. I saw them clearly, some were as tall as myself. The warriors of the other tribe had no weapons, for I had not allowed them to carry any. But now the matter was survival.
I rose to my feet, my voice splitting the air like thunder:
"Weapons!"
My warriors ran to bring the arms. Spears, axes, stones, shields… I ordered them to hand weapons even to the visitors. Tonight, they too would fight. The clash was unavoidable. Twenty wolves lunged from the shadows, their claws catching the light, their teeth gleaming. We met them with fury. Our spears thrust forward, our stones hurled, our shields raised.
The battle raged like a storm, yet I stood at its heart like an unyielding mountain. Wolves leapt at me from every side, their snarls echoing through the night, but my spear pierced flesh with precision, my arms striking with the fury of fire itself. One wolf snapped its jaws near my throat, I seized its muzzle with my bare hands and crushed its breath until silence claimed it. Another lunged, and with a single swing I sent it sprawling lifeless to the dirt. Around me, both my warriors and the visiting tribe stared wide-eyed, their fear mingled with awe. They saw not just a man but a force, a leader who stood unmoved before death. Each strike, each roar of mine carried a promise, that as long as I breathed, no beast, no enemy would ever take what was ours.
The howls of the wolves mingled with the battle cries of my warriors. Screams and the scent of blood filled the night. In the glow of the fire, shadows leapt and twisted like spirits. Everyone fought for a single purpose: to live.
And at last, silence fell. The wolves lay dead. But in my mind, only one question echoed:
How many of us had died?