The Third Tribe

As his own stone blade was pressed against his solar plexus and his throat was being compressed like a snake had wrapped around it, Flake didn't have time to think. Instead Flake clasped the massive arm of the hand choking him and once again sent out his own mycelium networks to connect with his strangler. The instant a connection was made Flake sent out a signal directly to the brute’s mind. “I’m not your enemy, stop attacking me.” Flake communicated directly via electrical impulses from his mind to the brute's. Rather than kill him instantly for the invasion of his mind, the brute simply tightened his grip on Flake's throat and responded in his own mind. “Don't try to fool me! You look just like them, only small. No child could have earned strange one powers like me unless you were a cave dweller!” the brute shouted in his own mind almost about to run Flake through with his spear point before Flake lashed out mentally. “I am not a child! I am a man, I have fathered children, I was the great man of my tribe! My people come from the far south past the long water and we are all this height.” Flake practically burned the signals into the brute's mind before mentally assaulting him with direct visions of his own memories. His island with his original tribe and family, the storm that washed him out to sea, the grueling trial that was his time at sea, finding the tribe of humans in this land, living among them for three years and his frustrations, the slaughter at the hands of those mysterious other hominids, and his gaining of powers from the fungal god.

The brute loosened his grip on Flake's throat but still kept the spear point in the same place. On one hand Flake's memories could have been a trick and this was just a failed ambush by some lost child. On the other hand the obvious passion and power in the signals plus the detail of the implanted memories was too much to just ignore either. The brute hesitated for a moment as Flake struggled to breathe. Before finally the brute decided to drop Flake for now, though he didn't hand him his spear back yet. Again the brute spoke but it was in a language Flake had no understanding of whatsoever, it was a spoken language but it was completely unlike the spoken language of the tribe of humans he lived with. So instead Flake sent his mycelium tendrils across the snowy ground with a cold and lethargic slowness both from the energy Flake had expended with his construct, the injuries he took in the battle, and the mycelium’s own dislike of the cold snow.

When contact was made between the mycelium and the brute’s foot at first he went to jolt away until he decided to take the chance for the sake of communication. As he could tell by Flake's confused face that he couldn't understand a word he was saying. “Cave Dwellers, those who look like you but taller, those you showed hunting the tribe of Walkers you lived with. They hunted my tribe as well, like you I was the only one to survive.” The brute thought aloud through the mycelial connection. Flake would then be bombarded with a memory not his own.

The memory faded into a mountainous area, not the hills in which Flake's former tribe set up their camp. There Flake would be beset by a similar yet different sight of horror from his own twisted memories. The charred remains of bark tents, the mangled corpses of bulky and robust bodies strewn about the camp in puddles of their own blood. All the while the brute just waded through the long cold ashes and carnage with mad horror and insane sorrow. The bodies of friends, family, lovers, and even his own children surrounded him as his mind shattered from the grief. Only barely through watery eyes did Flake through the brute’s point of view see the Cave Dweller charging at him. The Cave Dweller much like the one that killed Sun Hunter and Loving Water bore a striking resemblance to Flake himself, only being taller and this one having a set of three large scars scraped across his chest.

In his hand the Cave Dweller held a hot blue flame and on his face was a wicked grin of satisfaction on his face that showed bloody and yellow teeth. At that moment the brute's rage exploded as he raised his heavy fists in the air and roared like a mad beast. The brute charged at the cave dweller with mad fury only to be met by a stream of hot blue fire. Yet the brute was driven to such savage madness by the death of everyone he ever cared for that he didn't care about whatever harm he may face. The brute charged through the flames his fur clothing especially that on his chest stank as it was burned away before the fire viscously lashed at his own flesh.

The brute closed the distance to the Cave Dweller’s shock and horror before he grabbed the man by his face with a massive hand and then with pure superhuman brute force drove the cave dweller's head downwards into the ground and onto the rock jutting out of it. The skull made contact with a loud sickening crack as blue flames finally quite spewing from the cave dweller's hand. There the brute just screamed madly as he with both massive fists raised in the air hammered down on the cave dweller's head again and again, and again, until nothing was left of the head but a gory pile of blood, brains, and bone. The brute's chest still smoldered from the fire, his fists were completely bloodied and battered, and his mind was a mad mess of rage, grief, and horror. Yet in the end in spite of the odds the brute survived even when the rest of his tribe all perished.

“Your story is so similar to mine for a moment I thought you simply stole my memories to create a lie. Though now I see the details, your true home, your struggles with life among the walkers, no cave dweller could have imagined all of that. When I first saw you I thought you some rogue child of the cave dwellers who killed my tribe. I see now that I was wrong, and I apologize.” The brute proclaimed mentally to Flake with a solemn bow.

“I understand I suppose, besides I should thank you. I've only gained my powers a few moons ago, I had no idea I could take the shape of a creature like that until now.” Flake signaled in turn and he rubbed his throat with his hands in hopes to relieve the pain of his attempted strangulation. Finally the brute handed Flake the blade of his spear back as a further apology and newfound sign of trust. “Have you ever thought about going back and taking your revenge?” Flake signaled as he took his spear tip. “I tried, for many years after I first gained my powers but I could never find them again, that's why I flew into such a rage the moment I saw you. I thought they may have found me again.” The brute responded in thought.

“Then why don't we join forces? We both have a common enemy, we both have powers. I'm sure between the two of us we could find them, and hunt them down one by one until our revenge is complete. What do you say?” Flake signaled directly but also couldn't help but gesture at the brute as well in his excitement. The brute just furrowed his massive brow in a frown. “Better you just give up your search and find something worth living for. I had a partner in my search, a walker with his own set of odd powers yet we still found nothing.” The brute signaled back dejectedly.

“Give up? How could you say you've given up when you were so eager to tear out my guts earlier on the assumption that I was a cave dweller myself?” Flake signaled back with jolting static rage. “I assumed they simply found me to finish what they started, my rage has dulled not my will to live. Besides, I have others to care for now.” The brute signaled with a shake of his head. “Don't tell me words that aren't real, I could feel every ounce of your rage in your signals, in your memories, in the very hand that tried to crush in my neck. Your rage hasn't been quelled, only your will has been.” Flake signaled with chiding energy. The brute just bared his massive teeth in anger before taking a deep breath to calm himself down.

“My will has not dulled, it has simply gone into aiding my new tribe. My inner beast has been quelled both from my hunt and our battle. You stand before the one they call Striking Bear, and it's time I return to my tribe down in the valleys below. As a peace offering you may join me with them, but don't think you can convince me to join you on a fruitless hunt for revenge.” The brute, Striking Bear signaled before he turned and tore the mycelium connection between himself and Flake. Before he walked up to the corpse of the strange deer and easily hoisted it over his massive shoulders. Flake was frustrated at his stubborn refusal but decided to go with Striking Bear anyways, both because he was desperate not to be alone again, and that he stood a much better chance at surviving the winter with Striking Bear than without him.

So Flake in spite of his bruised and battered body hurriedly ran to catch up with Striking Bear. There the two walked in a tense silence down from the mountain tops. Between the snow, Flake’s injuries, and Striking Bear’s burden it was a slow journey. By the time night began to fall they weren't even past the snow line of the mountain. As dusk began to break, Striking Bear found a large pine tree whose base was free of snow and threw the corpse underneath it before he himself curled up with it. Flake followed but instead of sleeping under the base of the tree Flake chose instead to climb slightly up the tree and sleep in its branches like he had done every night since the death of his tribe. Both men, fully exhausted from their battle, fall asleep quickly even in spite of the cold and the lack of fire.

Waking up however Flake found himself so cold and stiff he felt as if he had frozen solid in the night. Waking up with a pained groan, Flake slowly clattered down the tree only to end up accidentally stepping on Striking Bear's head as he descended down the tree. Striking Bear in turn woke up with an angry grunt before grabbing Flake by his coat and tossing him aside. Flake landed with natural grace, nothing hurt beyond the pain of his bruises from their battle. With Flake’s spear tip they cut off some meat from Striking Bear's deer and ate it raw for breakfast before setting out again. On the second day of travel the pair finally broke past the snow line and returned to the conditions of the autumn season. That night Striking Bear would start a fire with some dry wood Flake found along their travels. Around the fire Striking Bear would cook some deer meat before Flake would once again extend his mycelium network along the ground and make contact with Striking Bear.

“I realized I never told you what I am called. I am called Flake both among my original tribe and among the walkers as you call them.” Flake signaled before being interrupted by Striking Bear. “Flake? You struggled with being seen as a child yet you insisted on calling yourself Flake? Why would you name yourself after something so diminutive?” Striking Bear signaled in curiosity. “Among my people we don't name ourselves, our names are just descriptors we've earned over our lives so our fellow tribesmen can better communicate. I was called Flake because to us, a sharp thin flake of stone was the height of our technology. They were our most sharp, precise, and reliable blades. Our hand axes may have been more durable but stone flakes were seen as greater still. Though you may be correct in that name causing some of my sorrows among the walkers.” Flake answered after pondering the question for a moment. “Interesting, my people, the mountain dwellers only earn our names once we are old enough to pick a name for ourselves. I chose the name Striking Bear because my father and the other hunters had just managed to slay a great bear and I was fascinated by their story and the bear's massive corpse. It was by pure chance that I gained the odd power to transform into a bear.” Striking Bear answered before he let out a loud yawn. That night the two slept beside the fire as it burned down into coals.

Only by the third day of travel did the pair and their now half a deer carcass finally reach the camp of Striking Bear’s tribe. All fifteen or so humans of the tribe, man, woman, and child were like Striking Bear extremely muscular and robust with heavy brows. Though Striking Bear seemed to be the tallest among his tribesmen. The tents were unlike anything Flake had seen before. Broader at the base with a shorter and more abrupt tip at the top their sides were sewed together hides but tied together whole large strips of black and white birch bark. Striking Bear shouted aloud in his almost impossibly deep booming voice in that language Flake had no understanding of. The tribesmen gathered around first to speak and welcome Striking Bear back before eventually looking down at Flake in curiosity. Striking Bear spoke again as he handed off the deer carcass to another tribesman. The other tribesmen seemed to understand whatever he said and went back about their business, which predominantly seemed to be at the moment smoking a large amount of fish from the adjacent river.

As the tribe dispersed, Striking Bear waved for Flake to follow, there he led Flake to a bark-sided tent and placed a great muscular palm on Flake's forehead. “You share a tent with me here, I'll explain to everyone who and what you are. Try not to use your powers around the camp, my people find the powers strange, and many of them are scared by powers. They tolerate me because I'm one of them, their fear might overtake them if they see you use your strange powers though. I welcome you to stay in our camp for this winter or longer if you're ready to abandon your hunt for revenge.” Striking Bear signaled into Flake's mind in such a simple and straightforward manner it caught Flake off guard by its subtle genius for a moment. “Very well I accept, so long as you tell them fully that I am a man not some wayward child.” Flake signaled back before Striking Bear nodded and removed his hand from Flake's forehead.

Thus started Flake's life within this third tribe, though this time he came into the tribe with the understanding that he would leave them come spring hopefully with Striking Bear. For that was Flake's ultimate goal during his time here, to convince Striking Bear to join him in his hunt for revenge. These other humans, the mountain dwellers as Striking Bear called them, were more similar to Flake's last tribe, the walkers, than Flake's own people. Yet there were still several differences between them and Flake's last tribe. They seemed to lack strings and ranged weapons beyond whatever they could throw entirely. They also lacked the needle so none of their clothes were sewed together, instead their already cold resistant bodies were further protected by layers of loose furs that were tied onto their bodies with long straight cut straps of hide. And the way they smoked the major influx of fish swimming up the river was by digging a deep pit with sticks before burning a fire below in its depths and smoking the fish on sticks placed into the ground and angled above the hole. At first everyone in the tribe stared at Flake as some curiosity, though not so much down at him as a child. Striking Bear seemed to have succeeded in telling his tribe that Flake was a different species of short human and not some wayward child.

Though as the weeks passed Flake kept to his word about not using his powers around the camp and the mountain dwellers eventually got used to his presence. Flake would go on hunts with Striking Bear and the other men of the tribe from time to time. Most of the game they brought back were boar, deer, and serow, that were hunted not by long distance pursuit or by hurling spearing darts and arrows but with ambush tactics and raw power. The mountain dwellers would sneak up as close as possible to their prey before lunging out in one sudden great burst of speed before spearing them with their stone hafted blades. The first strike was typically aimed deep in the stomach for maximum penetration to control the animal at spear point while the other hunters would rush in and finish their prey off. Flake himself on account of his short stature was typically used to flush prey out into the path of a waiting hunter, typically Striking Bear in his bear form who would just maul whatever prey was herded into him.

Otherwise Flake generally aided this tribe by gathering wood, helping spall stones for later knapping, or by generally helping Striking Bear in whatever he needed. Occasionally when Striking Bear said his inner beast needed to let out Flake would him in an excursion back up the now thoroughly snowy mountains. Where Striking Bear chose to stay in his bear form and live usually except in these cases alone as a bear. Flake occasionally copied Striking Bear’s bear form with his fungal mimicry but generally chose instead to stay within his Death Jaw form. There the two would spar and hunt until Striking Bear’s inner beast was satisfied. Flake was grateful for these opportunities because it was a chance to hone and practice his powers with Flake even besting Striking Bear in the occasional spar.

As the months passed during his time with this third tribe the brutal winter began to warm once again as the days became slightly longer. Time and time again Flake attempted numerous attempts to convince Standing Bear to join him come the snow melt of spring in his hunt for revenge once again. And time after time Striking Bear refused, usually saying that the hunt was hopeless and that he was instead taking solace in protecting this tribe instead. Flake knew time was running short, and that if he was gonna convince Striking Bear to join him he was going to have to pull out all the stops and give it his all.