Tales of The Primordial Dawn

The journey back to the tribe felt longer and more arduous than ever. Liora and I struggled through the snow, the injured woman a heavy weight between us. Our breaths came out in ragged puffs, turning to frost in the frigid air.

As we neared the camp, the familiar sights of our homes emerged from the snowy haze – the makeshift huts, the central fire pit, the fences that penned our goats. It was a sight that usually brought comfort, but the gravely injured stranger we carried cast a somber shadow over our arrival.

"Help!" I shouted as we entered the heart of the tribe. "We need help!"

A few heads turned our way, eyes wide with surprise and concern. Then, as they saw the unconscious woman draped between us, their surprise turned to alarm. Figures began to emerge from the huts, rushing towards us.

Among them were Jara, Eamon, and my mother, Aisling. Jara was one of our tribe's elders, her wisdom and guidance a beacon for us all. Eamon, a lean man built like an ox, was one of our youngest seasoned hunters. Aisling, my mother, was a known healer, her skills honed by years of experience and ancestral knowledge.

"Tak! Liora!" Eamon roared, rushing over to help. His eyes widened at the sight of the injured woman. "By the ancestors, what happened?"

"We found her in the wilderness, following a blood trail," I explained, gasping for breath. "She’s injured, badly."

Aisling was already at our side, her experienced gaze assessing the woman's condition. "We need to get her inside, now," she declared, her tone sharp. "Eamon, help them."

Together, we carefully carried the woman to Aisling’s hut, which also served as our healing quarters. A different place from the home me and my siblings slept in. The inside was warm and filled with the earthy smell of various herbs, a sharp contrast to the biting cold outside.

Meanwhile, Jara turned to Liora and me. "You found her, you say?" she questioned, her gaze penetrating. "Were there others?"

"We found no one else," Liora replied, her voice steady despite the intensity of Jara's gaze. "Just...just her."

"And she carries the mark of the Wulani Clan," I added, the gravity of the revelation hanging heavy in the air.

Jara's eyes flickered at the mention of the Wulani Clan. After a tense moment of silence, she simply nodded, her gaze returning to the unconscious woman. "We will discuss this later," she decided, her tone final. "Right now, our focus should be on helping her."

Eamon and I gently laid the woman on a bed of furs inside Aisling's hut. As we did, the injured woman groaned, her face contorting with pain. The sight of her suffering was difficult to bear, but we had to stand firm not only to help her survive this ordeal but to get answers.

Aisling, meanwhile, was quick to take control of the situation. She moved about with a calm and measured grace, despite the urgency of the situation. Her years of experience as a healer had honed her abilities to handle even the most critical of cases, and this was one of them.

"Liora," Aisling called, her voice steady as she turned her focus towards the stranger. "I need bitterroot and wolfsbane. And...and that new herb we found last moon - the Star's Embrace."

Liora nodded, her face a mask of concentration. Liora was an experienced forager capable of finding all sorts of fruits, vegetables, and herbs. She was also Aisling's apprentice, learning the ways of healing and the knowledge of herbs under my mother's careful guidance. Despite her youth, she had proven herself time and time again, her skills complementing Aisling's in times of crisis.

"Yes, Aisling," Liora responded. She turned and quickly disappeared into the maze of dried herbs, roots, and various concoctions that adorned the walls of the hut.

While Liora gathered the requested herbs, Aisling examined the woman. Her hands moved deftly, carefully inspecting the woman's injuries. A deep wound in the woman's side seemed to be the main source of her pain. The sight of it made me wince - a vicious gash, blood still oozing from its edges.

"Her wounds are deep, but she seems to be enduring as best she can," Aisling murmured, her voice filled with a certain kind of respect for the stranger. "I believe she can pull through."

"I pray to the ancestors that she does," I replied, my gaze meeting my mom's. The soft glow of the firelight accentuated the worry lines etched on my mother's face, her eyes glimmering with a determination that was both inspiring and intimidating.

"She will. We will make sure of that," Aisling affirmed, her tone filled with resolute conviction. She was not one to back down easily, especially when a life was at stake.

Liora returned shortly, her arms filled with the herbs Aisling had asked for. The bitterroot and wolfsbane were known to us, their medicinal properties widely used in our tribe. But the Star's Embrace was a new find, a herb discovered during one of the recent foraging trips. Its healing capabilities were still largely unknown to us, but Aisling was confident in its potential.

"Good, you got them," Aisling said as Liora placed the herbs beside her. With quick hands, Aisling began to crush the herbs together, their distinctive aromas filling the air – a strange mix of earthiness from the bitterroot, the sharp tang of the wolfsbane, and a sweet, otherworldly scent from the Star's Embrace.

As Aisling and Liora began their healing work, the tension in the hut was clear. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to see Jara, her aged eyes filled with a pearl of calm wisdom that somehow managed to comfort me.

"We have done all we can for now, Tak," she said, her voice gentle. "Now it is in the hands of Aisling, Liora, and the ancestors."

I nodded, taking a deep breath. She was right. There was little else we could do but hope and pray.

"All right, everyone," Aisling's voice broke through my thoughts, her eyes never leaving the injured woman. "We have a lot of work ahead of us. Liora and I need room to concentrate. I need the rest of you to leave."

"But, Mother—" I began, only to be silenced by her stern gaze.

"No arguments, Tak," she said firmly. "You can wait outside."

With a final glance at the injured woman, I squeezed my mother's shoulder, silently wishing her strength, then followed Eamon and Jara out of the hut, the cold air hitting us as we stepped back into the snow-filled night. We had done our part, and now we had to trust in Aisling and Liora, and the healing power of the herbs, to do theirs.

Once outside, the cold bit through my clothes as the reality of the situation sunk in. The tribe was huddled together around the fire pit, their faces etched with concern and worry. The questions and murmurs filled the air, adding to the tension that was as sharp as a blade's edge.

Eamon, his tall figure looming next to me, turned his worried gaze on me. "Tak," he began, his voice low. "What happened out there? You and Liora... how did you come across this woman?"

I drew in a deep, shuddering breath, steeling myself as I recalled the earlier events. "It started with Liora and me in the animal pen," I began, the memories playing out as if it had happened just moments ago. "We were doing our usual rounds, checking on the livestock..."

I explained how we had noticed the blood trail, our curiosity piqued. We had decided to follow it, thinking it might be one of our own people. But as we had journeyed deeper into the wilderness, the signs had become more disturbing, escalating our concern. And then, we had found her – the woman bearing the mark of the Wulani Clan, her body trembling and her skin icy to the touch.

"Did she... did she say anything?" Jara asked, her voice barely audible over the howling wind.

"She tried," I replied, my gaze focused on our tribesmen. "But she spoke in a language we couldn't understand."

"Ne...ge...shta...gima," I recalled, the words still foreign and strange on my tongue. "She said this when we found her."

The gathered tribes folk remained silent, processing the information. The silence felt heavy, filled with a multitude of unsaid thoughts and concerns.

Finally, Jara sighed, breaking the silence. "We can only hope that Aisling and Liora are able to help her," she said, her voice filled with a weary resolve.

"Yes," Eamon agreed, his gaze turning towards Aisling's hut. "The ancestors be with them."

"And we must also do our part," Jara continued after a moment, her gaze holding a certain spark of determination. "This woman's language...it is unknown to us, yes. But perhaps not to all."

Eamon and I turned to look at her, confusion written on our faces. "What do you mean, Jara?" I asked, my brow furrowing.

"Elder Akara," Jara responded, her gaze fixed on the flames. "He may know something."

Eamon's eyes widened slightly, and I could tell he was thinking the same as I was. Elder Akara was our tribes leader and the oldest member of our tribe, his life stretching back decades before even Jara was born. He was a man of many stories and wisdom, having interacted with various clans in his younger years.

"That's right," Eamon nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "He's spoken of encounters with the Wulani Clan in his youth."

"I heard him tell tales of their culture," I chimed in, remembering the evenings spent around the fire, listening to Akara's stories. "Their rituals, their beliefs... but he never mentioned their language."

"Perhaps he did not find it necessary at the time," Jara reasoned. "Or maybe it's something he'd rather forget. We all know that his encounters were not always...peaceful."

"But now," Eamon said, his voice firm, "it seems that knowledge may be vital."

"Yes," Jara agreed, her eyes meeting mine. "Tak, I believe it's best if you go speak to Akara. Ask him about the words this woman spoke. Maybe he can provide some insight."

I nodded, a strange mix of determination and unease welling up within me. "I will," I said. "I'll go to him now."

As I began to rise from the log we were seated on, my thoughts traveled back to an earlier conversation I had had with Garan, Akara's devoted helper, and son.

"Garan mentioned that Akara hasn't been well," I voiced out, turning to Jara and Eamon, my brow furrowed with concern. "He was feeling weak... had a bit of a fever. He asked to be left alone to rest."

Jara's eyes flickered with concern, her gaze dropping to the fire for a moment before she returned her attention to me. "A fever, you say?" she echoed. "Then perhaps it is best if we wait until morning. We don't want to stress him further."

"But if he knows something that could help us understand this woman..." Eamon trailed off, his gaze set on the hut that served as Akara's home and our council room. His face was a mirror of the inner conflict I was feeling.

"Maybe I should just check on him," I suggested, standing decisively. "I won't push him if he's not feeling well. But... if he's up to it, we could use his wisdom."

Eamon nodded, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Be careful, Tak. We respect Akara and his wisdom, but we don't want to risk his health either."

"I understand, Eamon," I replied, pulling my fur cloak tighter around me as I prepared to make my way towards Akara's hut. Behind me a long shadow was cast, the eeriness of the situation settling in once again.

"Yes, be cautious, Tak," Jara added, her voice a comforting lull in the quiet night. "Remember, we all have a part to play. Yours, for now, is to learn what you can from Akara. Go now, and may the ancestors guide your conversation."

As I walked away, leaving Jara and Eamon by the snow-covered firepit, the seriousness of our situation was once again brought to the forefront. We had a gravely injured stranger in our midst, speaking words we did not understand. Our only hope lay in the wisdom of an ailing elder and the healing abilities of my mother and Liora.

As I approached Akara's hut, I could only hope that we were doing enough. And with that, I pushed the fur curtain of a door, stepping into the dimly lit interior to seek the wisdom we so desperately needed.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of various healing herbs and a hint of something more pungent, suggesting Akara's ailment. A small fire was burning in the corner of the hut, its glow casting flickering shadows on the walls adorned with the sacred symbols of our tribe.

Garan was there, sitting beside Akara's bed, a cloth in his hand that he was gently pressing against Akara's forehead. He glanced up as I entered, his face marked with worry. "Tak," he greeted me, his voice low, full of both surprise and concern. "You shouldn't be here, it's late."

"Apologies for the intrusion, Garan," I replied, my eyes falling on Akara. The elder lay on his bed, his face pale and glistening with sweat. Despite his frail appearance, there was a stubborn spark in his eyes that reflected his unyielding spirit.

Rasha, Akara's wife, and Garan's mother, was on the other side of the bed. A woman of grace and strength, her hands were busy grinding herbs, her eyes revealing a depth of worry that was rare for her usual composed demeanor.

"Akara has been asking to be left alone, Tak," she said, not looking up from her task. Her voice was firm, but I could hear the undercurrent of fear.

"I know, Rasha," I responded, my eyes meeting Garan's. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. We found a woman in the forest tonight. She's hurt badly and... and she's from the Wulani Clan."

At my words, a deathly silence fell over the room. Garan looked at me, his eyes wide with shock. Rasha paused her grinding, looking up at me with an expression that was hard to read.

"The Wulani Clan? Here?" Garan repeated, clearly startled. He exchanged a glance with Rasha, and for a moment, I saw fear flicker in his eyes.

"That's not all," I continued, swallowing the lump that had formed in my throat. "She's been saying something...words we don't understand. We were hoping...we were hoping Akara might know something about it."

I watched as Garan and Rasha exchanged another glance, a silent conversation passing between them. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for their decision, my hope flickering like the flames of the fire. After what felt like an eternity, Rasha finally nodded, a look of resignation crossing her face.

"We will ask him," she said, her voice sounding a bit stronger than before. "But only if he feels up to it. We will not push him."

With that, she turned her attention back to Akara, speaking softly to him. I held my breath, watching as Akara's gaze shifted to me, his eyes still bright despite his illness.

After a moment, he beckoned me closer. And with a sense of trepidation, I approached, ready to relay the strange words of the Wulani woman to our venerable elder, hoping against hope that he could provide some insight.

I approached the bed slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. Akara's eyes were on me, the same sharp gaze that had watched over our tribe for as long as I could remember. The flickering firelight danced in his eyes, illuminating his worn features.

"What brings you here at this hour, Tak?" Akara's voice was raspy, each word seeming to take a great effort, but his tone held the same authoritative note it always had.

"We found a woman from the Wulani Clan in the forest," I began, my voice wavering slightly under his gaze. "She's gravely injured, Akara. Aisling and Liora are doing their best to heal her."

Akara's eyes flickered with recognition at the mention of the Wulani Clan, but he remained silent, waiting for me to continue.

"She... she's been saying something. But it's in a language we don't understand," I continued, the foreign words echoing in my mind. "Ne...ge...shta...gima. We thought... we hoped you might understand."

The elder's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze turning inward as if he was sifting through memories from long ago. There was a long silence in the hut, the only sound the crackling of the fire and Akara's slow, labored breaths.

Finally, he let out a deep sigh, his gaze returning to me. "The Wulani language... It's been many winters since I've heard it, Tak," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Their words are like the wind... fluid, constantly changing... It's not easy to remember."

"But you might understand something, right, Father?" Garan interjected, his eyes hopeful. His hands were tightly clasped, his knuckles white.

Akara sighed, turning his gaze to his son. "Maybe, Garan... maybe," he said softly. "I will try, for the sake of this woman and our tribe."

He closed his eyes then, his face scrunching up in concentration, as if he was delving deep into his memory. The rest of us could only wait in silence, the tension sharp enough to cut the finest of stone as the fire crackled and the wind howled outside, bringing with it a biting cold that seemed to echo our collective fear and anticipation.

Garan had moved to his father's side, his hand gently resting on Akara's arm, offering silent support.

Finally, Akara's eyes opened, and he exhaled a breath that seemed to have been held for an eternity. His gaze found mine, and for a moment, he looked... weary. A deep, soul-deep tiredness that came from years of carrying the weight of our tribe. But then his gaze sharpened, and he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Ne... ge... shta... gima," he repeated, the foreign words rolling off his tongue with an uncanny ease. "If memory serves, in the language of the Wulani... it means 'they are near'."

The room fell silent as the weight of his words sunk in.

"Near?" I repeated, a cold dread creeping up my spine. "Who are near, Akara? And why would she say that?"

Akara's gaze dropped to his hands, his lips pressing into a tight line. "I cannot say for sure, Tak," he said, his voice heavy. "The Wulani have their own secrets, their own conflicts. It could mean anything."

"But it's not a good sign, is it?" Garan asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Akara sighed, his gaze returning to mine. "Most likely, it is not," he admitted, his voice echoing the same fear that was rising within me. "We need to prepare. We need to be ready."

The tension in the room seemed to rise exponentially with his words. The phrase 'they are near' took on a whole new meaning. Who were they? What were they near? Why would the injured woman warn us?

As these questions echoed in my mind, I knew one thing for certain - our tribe was facing a danger we were yet to understand, and we needed to prepare. The ancestors knew we were about to be tested in ways we hadn't expected.