A Tribe of Three

As the gods danced through the burning air and ash began to blanket the land around them Flake and Striking Bear exchanged mutual looks of concern before Striking Bear was sent into a coughing fit. Flake's throat began to burn and his eyes began to water soon after as well. Leading to both men to struggle as they grabbed the dancing and chanting Shaman and proceeded to drag him back to the camp. The Shaman didn't resist, whether he was just too stuck in a trance or too enchanted by the majesty of the great and terrible natural wonder before him Flake and Striking Bear didn't know and by this point didn't care either. The air burned their throats and lungs, as well as made their eyes water, this ash fall made the mere act of breathing miserable and they wanted as far away from this apocalypse as they could get.

What little made up their meager camp was quickly dusted of ash and packed onto themselves with the utmost haste. Then began their hunt for vengeance in earnest, starting with a journey Southwards to fleeing the disaster of an erupting volcano. For nearly their first week of travel the trio would be hounded relentlessly by the falling ash and acrid smoke. Because of the miserable conditions little attempts at communication or rest were made, the trio were less trekking and more running away from the burning air. Still even in that time Flake observed a lot about his traveling companions, how The Shaman even in his more elderly age could effortlessly keep up with Striking Bear and Flake with ease. How The Shaman's extreme curiosity was naturally tempered by Striking Bear’s straightforwardness. How when The Shaman would hyper fixate on the patterns in the wood of a fallen log, or the dead leaves in a puddle, Striking Bear could wordlessly and effortlessly guide him to keep moving again. It was just another means by which they naturally made a great team, by comparison Flake was a lout, a third wheel, a mere hanger on.

Eventually the skies returned from their time of hazy grays and evil reds back to their usual blues and whites. With that travel slowed slightly as Flake and Striking Bear took the breaks their specialized biology so desperately needed. By this point their dried food reserves had run nearly empty as well. So once again the trio established a modest camp of fire pit and a stick lean-to against a fallen log, all on the bank of a raging river. Striking Bear and The Shaman left camp to hunt while Flake stayed behind to see if he could spear a fish. Yet no luck would be had by either party, Flake never so much as saw a fish in the flooded river just like how Striking Bear and The Shaman never saw so much as a deer while they hunted through the woods. Striking Bear came back to camp angrily muttering in his own language out of frustration. Upon seeing the absolute lack of any fish, Striking Bear just groaned and threw his massive hands in the air before storming off and muttering to him.

Flake would just chuff in annoyance and The Shaman would walk over and place a hand on his shoulder. “Don't mind him, he always gets frustrated like this when a hunt fails. It's not like we're right to complain when we didn't catch anything to eat either.” The Shaman signalled in support, living up to his wisdom as an old man. “I lived with him in that village over the winter, it's nothing I haven't seen before; but thanks still. How did you two meet anyways?” Flake affirmed before asking mentally. “By fate and fate alone, though he'd say it was by chance. We were both hunting for the Cave Dwellers in a mountain range to the South West of this land or so, when one of my spirits was attacked by a massive bear. Much like you we fought the first time we met, both assuming the other had some connection to Cave Dwellers. I misinterpreted one of my visions and he was just so full of wrath that it expelled all his reasons. We fought to a draw, and only when we were both battered and exhausted did reason come back to us. At first we couldn't speak to each other, we could only communicate through drawing in the dirt and pantomime. Eventually we came to an understanding and decided to travel together.” The Shaman answered in turn.

“So not too different from our story then? What about you, where did you come from?” Flake asked in response. “Ah well like you I am not native to this land my people came from the far North and East. Unlike the walker tribe you were adopted into, my people walked here into this great peninsula. If I had to guess your previous tribe was guided to this land by fish migrations. My people were guided into this land by myself, through my visions of my past life as a spirit. Unknowingly however my past self was guiding me to its grave and subsequently the grave of my tribe as well.” The Shaman elaborated before he began to directly transmit the memory of his tribe's slaughter.

Unlike with Flake and Striking Bear, The Shaman was present for the first wave of attack. Flake in the point of view as The Shaman was melting resin over a fire in the shell of a turtle when the first screams echoed out. Standing up he would see his own brother having his leg ripped off by a giant reptilian monster, one Flake would recognize as something very different yet very similar to the creature that attacked him on the open ocean while he clung to his log. The Shaman leapt to his feet after grabbing a handful of hot ashes from the fire. Quickly drawing the image of a wolf on his forearm he sent the spiritual construct forth from his arm and into reality. There the weird wolf rushes the reptilian horror only for the monster to his own brother’s still living but unconscious body as a shield from the charging wolf.

The shaman didn't hesitate as painted the form of an eagle onto his arm and unleashed it into reality as well, sending it to go claw out the monster's eyes. Only for the ground beneath The Shaman to open up and swallow him whole. At first the shaman frantically attempted to claw his way out of his would-be earthen tomb. Only when he heard the muffled further screaming of women and children he frantically lifted up his then deerskin top and painted the image of a mammoth across his stomach. As he summoned the spirit into existence the mammoth expanded out and burst through the earth ceiling and rampaged into the open air. As The Shaman climbed his way out of the pit that swallowed him he saw his mammoth grabbing the reptilian monster with its trunk and thrashing it about on the ground.

Yet the shaman couldn't look on long before he felt the earth rumble beneath him again. Instinctively he lunged forward only to be met with a stone spike piercing the calf of his back leg. Turning around as he screamed he saw the one responsible, a Cave Dweller just like what Flake and Striking Bear saw as well. The Cave Dweller had a cruel and self satisfied grin across his face. Meanwhile in the distance another Cave Dweller went about impaling The Shaman's fellow tribesmen on long tendrils of wood he controlled like an octopus controlling its tentacles. Taking some blood from his wounded leg The Shaman would draw the effigy of a great lion on his own forehead before sending the mystical beast bolting towards the wood master. Only for the crudely drawn creature to be impaled by a series of stone spikes before it faded away into nothingness.

The Shaman in that time drew several small birds in blood up his arms and sent them out to harass the earth master while he turned and looked back. His mammoth was gone, likely impaled and faded away just like the lion. Yet the reptilian monster it was bashing about into the ground still lay dead on the ground. Turning back he saw the wood master raising a wall of wood in front of him to shield himself from being pelted by a volley of arrows from the tribe’s hunters. Finally turning to his immediate opponent again the Cave Dweller had swatted away the last of the birds and was readying another attack. The Shaman quickly drew a crude figure of a large long horned steppe bison and sent it to life in front of him just in time for it to take the blow of a long darting stone that impaled it through its side and made the creature fade away. Yet The Shaman didn't let up, he drew birds up one arm and snakes up the other and sent them both racing at his opponent to harass him and keep the Cave Dweller occupied.

With birds peck at his face and snakes biting at his legs the Cave Dweller was sent into a scrambling fury long enough for The Shaman to draw a cave lion in blood across his stomach in fat greater detail, and instead of sending the creature sprinting at the wood master he sent it sloping into the shadows, trusting his fellow tribesmen to distract the cave dweller for long enough for the lion to sneak up and break his neck with its powerful jaws. Only to be met with another stone spike, this time to his other leg, piercing deep through his thigh. The Shaman screamed out in pain as the Earth master cave dweller walked towards him, muttering something in its alien language and gnashing his teeth. The look in his eyes told The Shaman everything, it was going to kill him slowly and painfully. The Shaman being unable to move had to think fast through his shock. Snakes, dozens of snakes The Shaman drew in his own blood across his legs and sent them like a slithering army at the cave dweller. Some were impaled before vanishing on smaller spikes, others were swallowed by chasms in the earth, yet a few, just enough to distract the annoyed cave dweller and send him into a fit.

That gave The Shaman just enough time for one more desperate scheme. The Shaman drew the reptilian monster in blood across his stomach, at least he drew the basic outline of the beast. There he sent it forth to life not on its own, but inside the corpse of its own reference. There the mangled body twisted it way back to life before charging at the earth master who only looked at it with a wide open face of horror. As his own family member’s dead body had come to life to attack him. That second of hesitation, the only bit of humanity the cave dweller had shown, that was the moment that became his undoing. That's when The Shaman has drawn a long beaked bird and brought it into existence to peck out his eye. The cave dweller screamed in agony as he clutched at his eye, lowering himself just into the right position for the reptilian horror to lunge and snap its snaggle fanged jaws onto his head. The cave dweller quickly went limp as the power of the bite fractured his spine and skull, only for the beast to further roll and tear the cave dweller's hand and head clean from its body in a fountain of blood and gore. The Shaman looked over at the wood master only to see him impaling the last of the tribe's hunters right before the lion sprung forth from the shadows and clamped its jaws down on the back of his neck.

Then the vision faded from Flake's mind as both men were brought back into reality from the depths of The Shaman's vivid memory and imagination. “I'm sorry for your loss, both Striking Bear and I weren't there when our tribes were killed. You had to see it all happen, however that had to be worse.” Flake responded in solemn energy from his mind. “It should be me apologizing to you, you're the only one among us who lost their tribe not once but twice, and who had to endure such humiliation for so many years after as well.” The Shaman responded in understanding. “Thank you, I appreciate the concern. Also I noticed you managed to defeat three of those Cave Dwellers with powers all by yourself. You must be far more powerful than Striking Bear and I to have done so.” Flake added in turn. “You're partially correct, I was that powerful at one point in my youth. Yet since then.” The shaman then pulled up his pant leg to reveal the leg underneath, half of it was real flesh and bone, while the rest of his leg, where in that memory the stone spike penetrated his calf. That was coated in an illusion, just like one of his constructs, half of his leg looked like it had been drawn on the side of a cave before it was dragged into the real world and slapped over his wound.

“At first I did it to stop the bleeding but now I don't think I could walk without both it and the construct on my thigh. Maintaining both these constructs constantly, especially in my old age is a considerable drain on my spirit. I'm not half as powerful as I was in my youth, though I like to think I make up for it with experience and expertise.” The Shaman chuckled a bit as he signalled and rolled his pant leg back down. “I see…” Flake responded not really knowing what to signal in return. He felt the sting of the all too well on cold winter mornings and on long marches in his joints. By now he was old enough to potentially be a grandfather, depending on how Long Hair and the rest of his family are doing back home. The whole train of thought made him just deep down melancholic as imagined grandchildren he'd never meet, or worse a tribe that has completely fractured in his absence. The Shaman just nodded in solace as he took his hand off Flake's shoulder and let him be alone with his thoughts for the rest of the night.

The next morning Flake would join Striking Bear and The Shaman out on their hunt. To where The Shaman excitedly put a hand on his shoulder. “In the memories you showed me, you communicated with the spirit of the forest. Ask the spirit what has been eating plants in the forest and where it is. That will tell us where to hunt today. I thought of that idea last night and just remembered to tell you now.” The Shaman exclaimed excitedly in their mind. Flake for a moment was confused. Spirit? What's he talking about? The only spirit I spoke to was the fungal god and he's gone. Flake pondered for a moment until the reality flooded into his mind. The Shaman meant to ask the forest’s mycelium network what plants are being damaged where. The idea was simply genius and Flake mentally kicked himself for not thinking of it himself earlier.

Flake found a large living maple tree just budding its leaves and he placed a hand on its trunk. There from his hand the white mycelium tendrils of his expanded mind and body reached out until they connected with the entire shared mycelium network of the forest. There the relentless cacophony of signals once again flooded his brain, nutrient levels, new mycelium growth, old mycelium death, what needed to be distributed where so everything in the system could thrive in this early rush to meet the spring head on. Flake had focus, shut out all information that wasn't relevant until he could distill the madness of an entire forest’s language into one point, damage and where it's being taken. To the northwest of them, multiple entities were tearing up roots and mycelium systems in rapid succession, boars they must be, Flake realized before he removed his hand from the tree.

That's when Flake had a second idea, using his mycelium to connect to the natural mycelial network of the forest he reached out and sent signals to both Striking Bear and The Shaman without needing to touch them first. “There are boars to the Northwest, follow me I know where.” Flake signalled with knowing authority as The Shaman smiled at their success and Striking Bear quickly morphed into his bear form. The two followed behind Flake as he quickly but quietly made his way through the early spring wilderness. For the few weeks he had been with both Striking Bear and The Shaman at the same time he had felt like an interloper, a parasite feeding off of their abilities and forcing himself into their tightly knit team as detriment to it. This was the first time he felt otherwise, he felt like a true member of the team, where he was taking charge, where he felt like the man he was back in his homeland and his tribe. Flake the hunter, the great man, a father and caretaker, was finally back and better than ever.

After hours of walking the trio finally heard the orchestra of grunts and snorts made by the herd. Without a word being said or signalled Flake with spear in hand took to the trees. The Shaman summoned a litany of wolf constructs by his side to circle the herd. And Striking Bear in his massive bear form positioned himself in the perfect ambushing position. Flake with his curled fingers and his spear in his mouth swung from tree to tree in silence before positioning himself over a nice big sow, as he saw the wolf constructs get into position Flake dropped down from the tree and grabbed his spear before landing on the sow’s back and driving his stone tipped spear between the her ribs and deep into her lungs. The rest of the boars attempted to scatter before the wolf constructs lunged from the bushes and herded the fleeing boars towards Striking Bear's position. When the big boar of the herd unknowingly came within striking distance Striking Bear lunged from his hiding place and bit down on the back of its thick neck to hold it in place as the wolf constructs closed the distance and pinned the boar down by its snout and legs. Once the razor faced beast was immobilized, Striking Bear let go with his jaws and proceeded to beat all his massive weight down on its chest to break its ribs with a sickening crack and cave its chest in to finally kill it. Striking Bear let out an ear shattering roar that echoed across the forest as the wolf constructs likewise howled at the same time. It was a warning to any potential nearby predators that these carcasses would not so easily be stolen.

After gutting their massive prize Striking Bear carried it back to Flake to where The Shaman and Flake gutted the sow he killed before they together carried it back to camp. There both pigs were butchered and their hides were stretched on racks by the fire. As they sat about the fire lit by The Shaman Flake was the first to signal out. “I'd say today's success makes up for yesterday's failure quite easily. We should gather our strength here, get full and happy again from that week of misery on account of the eruption. Before we then march South back to my old tribe’s camp. There we'll have the best chance to find those who have wronged us.” Flake mentally exclaimed with equal parts joy and exhaustion. “Just what I was about to suggest myself. Now let's get some of this boar cooked so we can eat.” The Shaman signalled back in return before they all laughed out in shared relief and joy. This moment here was the happiest Flake had been probably since he arrived to this land. This tribe of three, while no replacement for his original family was the one that treated him by far the best in all this land. He wasn't just some storm child, nor some hanger on by Striking Bear's side. Flake was a true member of this tribe, not formed by blood, but by vengeance and companionship.