Our Voice

Our masked escort leads us hastily through the tribal grounds, all joy of our recent victory is swept away by the seriousness of our new chaperones. No banter or casual conversation is thrown around the group of Thorns, not even a casual glance at each other or their surroundings, the masked guards maintain a loose formation around us as we enter their village.

Small makeshift tippees cover every exposed patch amongst the ferns, Satyrs mingle and work daily chores until they see us, then it’s only curious stares and whispers. Each one has a youngling or two attached to them, either hanging in a hemp woven bag or simply clinging to their legs. For such oppressed and suffering people, they sure do want to bring more of their own into this cruel world. A child watches our procession from her father's back until a shining mote drifts by, enticing her attention. The veins of green bioluminescence are a comfort, this is Mother’s world and she will be watching all that move in and out of here. I see a stream of crystal clear water running through the village, the thought of washing is almost orgasmic at this putrid stage of my filth. I glance down at the grime that covers every cell of my skin, the hardened blood telling of wounds and battles. This world offers so many beautiful sights and attempts to poke my eyes out every time I look.

A group of Satyrs, over one hundred strong, are gathered in a crowd blocking our way. Harsh words greet the first line of Thorns, and they politely answer by shoving tribesmen out of the way. As the sea of Satyrs part, the walls of fur held fast by Thorns are breached by curious hands. They reach out to touch me and Cane as we pass by, others recoil from Piia. The peak of a large tippee rises over the heads in the crowd, the sides made from layers of stripped fern leaves, packed and weaved together tightly. A giant hole punctures the very top, where you would expect to find smoke, instead a thick column of emerald motes rose in a twirling display into the air to disperse in the canopy overhead.

Sentries stand at the tippee entrance trying to look imposing, however their lean frames of youth didn’t compare to the fiendish hunters or Daemon soldiers my party has already encountered. The procession ends here, the Thorn escort immediately dismantles in both formation and discipline, like a school classroom breaking for lunchtime. The focused facade of professionalism is abandoned for gossiping or the hunt for food. Only the leader maintains his composure, not reacting to his subordinates' behaviour as if they successfully completed the mission and we are no longer a threat. It makes me wonder what the point of the escort even was. Were they concerned for our safety in getting through the gathered villagers? The tribesman appeared happy to see me and Cane. Piia’s presence created some tension, I sensed a leering dislike to her rather than an aggressive threat. Mother knows Piia isn’t tainted but her tribe need convincing of that. The Thorns leader pulls back the large tippee’s entrance flaps and indicates for us to pass through.

“The animal will have to stay outside.” He directs Cane with his spear.

I grab my friend's large maw and stare into those night sky eyes.

“We will come back in a moment. I know you won’t miss me because you will be sleeping soon.” I scratch behind his ears and go to push through the fern doorway into the tippee, but a hand reaches out of the lingering crowd of villagers and grabs me.

“Are you the Shepherd? Are you our saviour?” A young girl asks with doubt.

The mass settle with her question, long ears perking up for my answer. I look at her, unsure how to answer now I stand before the people I am supposed to lead to sanctuary. I scan the sea of furry faces watching and waiting for my answer.

“He is. This is Seth our Shepherd. Foretold in the Luna prophecy by our Voice.” Piia yells to the crowd causing them to stir with excitement like the first bubbles from a boiling pot of water. The building buzz ripples through them, touching each one with a hint of hope and cleansing their anxiety. My own doubt bleeds away as I see the effect, these people have prayed to their Gods and I am her answer, how can I deny them?

“Say something.” Piia whispers to me.

More and more Satyrs were arriving with every lead fall, the buzz reaching through the village and drawing them with its energy.

“I am the Shepherd!” The crowd erupts with cheers of joy. “I want you all to know that no matter what dangers or obstacles we face! I will do my best to lead you on and protect you! I am new to this, leadership and survival in such a deadly world! But Mother’s faith in me and my flock has shown we can overcome anything together! I would never be here, speaking to you now without Piia’s wisdom and guidance!”

A voice interrupts my speech. “She’s tainted!” Muttering follows throughout the tribe.

“No! Piia isn’t tainted! I have seen Mother bless her first hand, when she sacrificed herself to save me, it took her life! Until Mother’s aura flooded her body and brought Piia back from death! Mother knew the importance of Piia as my guide and teacher! I owe everything to her, as should you all! I will continue to learn from the Satyrs, but this nonsense of people being tainted must stop! We can’t fear the outer world if we are to travel through it and beyond! We will face it all together, with Mother watching over us!” I shout as loud as possible, hoping all would hear my words and not look down on Piia or lose confidence in me.

The crowd erupts again, furry faces with teary eyes crying in elation. Many push forward to hug us, touching our arms, hair and faces, wanting to be close to their saviour. Piia is also crying as friends and close ones embrace her as family again, the taint quickly forgotten. A young girl, holding my hand and telling me she has dreamt of me for many moons, suddenly went wide eyed as a rustling noise stirs behind me. I turn in time to see an old fat Satyr, draped in fur cloaks and colourful feathers, push through the tippee flaps. Shock and anger hang heavily on him as he feels the excitement of the crowd before rapidly being replaced with a joyous grin. He locks eyes with my party and slowly moves towards us in a limping movement, relying on a knobbly root-like walking stick to support his hefty frame.

“Welcome travellers, is that Piia? My dear, you have returned to us safely. With no taint on you as well. Congratulations, I am so very pleased.” An awkward embrace ensues between them.

“I have my Voice, and I have brought the Shepherd with me.” She says to another round of cheers.

I reach out to shake the Voice’s hand, but he moves with unprecedented speed to take me into a deep hug, thick perfumes and scents filled my nostrils as I was smothering in the furs and drapes.

“I am Seth, lovely to meet you.”

“Yes, yes.” He breaks free from the hug but keeps an arm over my shoulders, even crooked and hunched, he stands a foot taller than me. His attention turns to address the crowd.

“A great occasion to have our lost family member back, many have wept through the small hours of the night in sorrow for Piia and her sister, Yetta. But with Mother’s grace and limitless mercy, she has been returned to us safely. Praise be to Mother.” He holds onto the energy of the crowd with expertise.

“Praise be to Mother.” The crowd repeats.

“Now I must bring them into my sanctuary for refreshments and to discuss this traveller's business with the tribe. Please return to your chores and work, I will make an announcement tomorrow.” He turns to enter his tippee.

“He is the Shepherd, Seth is our saviour.” A voice yells out.

“Alas, I do hope so. Mother has spoken to me in great detail of her chosen. There is great wisdom in all her words and caution for the safety of her followers is paramount. This human has brought Piia home and should be celebrated. However this business of being our Shepherd can only be decided by our benevolent Mother.” The Voice states.

“He is a man as you said.”

“Seth saved us from the Tear.”

“Mother guided him to us by blessing Piia.” Random people continue to shout.

“Great and wonderful achievements he has accomplished, of this I have no doubt. Our tribe is indebted to this man and we will welcome him into our homes with kindness and gratitude, but our kind can never forget what has kept us going over the seasons. Vigilance. For Mother sees all and knows all. I am her Voice and together we will see the truth in Seth.” He proclaims with confidence.

His words, wise and thoughtful in regard to the tribe's continuous safety, leave a bitter taste of apprehension in the crowd. The victory for which they were celebrating is now hollow and potentially rotten, their hope withdrawn by the Voices speech. Many faces turn to scowls and frowns, stress sweeps over them like a dense fog as the future of their people is once again shrouded in the unknown. Their Voice, sensitive to his people's worries and emotions, sees the reaction and yells out again.

“I do not doubt our Mother’s guidance for she has a plan. I will commune with her this evening and bring back news by first light.”

That manages to satisfy the gathered Satyrs enough, however the sounds of grumbles and quiet commotions could still be heard as they dispersed.

“Please join me inside my sanctuary.” He beckons us through the tippee’s flap.

Me and Piia share a look of depressed uncertainty, the infectious energy of the crowd spent and the days of hiking making themselves none in our exhausted bodies. In that moment before the tribe, I had believed without a doubt that I was their Shepherd and saviour. The signs and omens throughout our long journey had indicated that answer and my subconscious was finally convinced with the village's reaction to me. In my arrogance, I had expected the Voice to accept me without hesitation, but his practical insight and uncertainty have disrupted my own self-confidence. What if he’s right and I’m not their Shepherd? I have filled these people with hope only to abolish it and leave them empty. Am I just another twisted human in these lands pulling at their heartstrings and causing distress? Which raises another sleep eluding question to myself. If I am not here to save the tribe, What am I doing in this world?