Heedless
An Arvian Tale
By Isiat Carcer

“Come on, Bec! If we're quick, I can show you while everyone is distracted!" The white Stork's friend called from just down the trail, squeezing between tree limbs and branches that routinely grew across the path. 

The Arvian shamans of their tribe could simply use their dreampal's powers to move the natural barriers aside.

The two unchanged hopeful birds, on the other hand, had no such advantage.

“Wait up! Vermile! Red! Slow down! I'm not made for crashing through thicket like you are!" Bec called

“I'm not built for thicket, you goose! I wasn't even built for colour!" The albino Raven laughed with a distinctive caw to his voice. He did, at least, stop long enough to hold back the branches at the next tree growing across the path so that the Stork could climb through after him.

They were already racing the clock. Today was special. It was a double eclipse date! Esyon would pass before the sun, and Cereth would be in front of both of them at the same time. The double eclipse only occurred every few years, and among the Moonkissed, it was considered the most sacred of sacred days. 

Plus, no rituals could be performed under the shadow of a daylight moon. It was forbidden by the elders, but there were many, many other things that the tribe would ceremonially celebrate during the twin moons passing.

Which, conveniently for the two daring teenagers, meant they would all be distracted, and it was the perfect opportunity for them to sneak out and poke around at the Shaman's “secret" ritual site.

It wasn't a very good secret. Vermile was the Shaman's new apprentice and had already been out here a few times. Bec, on the other paw…

Bec was not so trusted by the tribe's members with such knowledge. Bec, the child of a pair from the Suntouched lands to the east, had always been seen with suspicion and mistrust. Adding to the fact that Storks were even less common in these parts, it had been a perfect combination for him to become something of a bad luck charm. A social pariah. 

This was why, during his upbringing with the tribe's learning house, when he'd bumped into Vermile, the albino raven named for his reddish eyes, the pair had fallen right in together. Bec's beak and flesh were a similar colour to the Raven's eyes, and they'd at once bonded of joking that they were just filling in for opposite parts of each other in colour.

“So what exactly is even out here?"

“Oh, you don't feel it? I guess Greypelt, uh- Elder Greypelt has been having me try to “Atune myself to the spirits" more. It's the sacred circle! This is where people go when they become Arvians like we both will one day!"

Bec laughed at that, following along down the path. Red had far more hope and enthusiasm than Bec for that outcome ever coming to pass.

“Well, you might at least. You're already a foot in to be the Shaman's Fledgling. I'm just waiting for them to send me away to go and learn as a spirit devotee at Esyon's Calling." He joked halfheartedly, referring to the Moonkissed village furthest south, where it was dark two-thirds of the year and the ice was as thick as a mountain. 

Wasn't that everyone's goal here? Do well, learn the ways, do good for the tribe, and then join the ranks of the tribe's Arvian population. Long lives, strength, magic, a dreampal companion for life, and all of that didn't even start on the admiration and respect of the tribe and the unchanged. 

Bec could only wish. If they let him within a hundred paces of the ritual site, it would be a hundred paces too close for any of them. Sneaking out to see it with his own eyes like this might well have been his only chance to ever even lay eyes upon the site of the tribe's sacred Ritual of Change. Seeing the ritual itself was entirely a different thing. They had all been taught it was sacred, and once it began, it could not be stopped.

“You will as well! I'm sure of it! The spirits see you too, Bec! Even if the Elders might ignore you, they are watching!" His friend insisted with an almost boundless cheer. Despite all else, Red had always been the more enthusiastic of the two of them, a certain mug-half-full kind of optimist, able to find a silver lining even in a bad situation.

There was a sudden, noticeable rise in darkness, like a cloud passing overhead. Red spared a quick glance skywards, the albino raven giving an excitable caw!

“Not long now! Esyon is already starting to move in front of the sun!" He called, hastening to get to the ritual henge.

Curiosity had long since won out over any thought of what punishment the tribe shaman, or, spirits help them, the Elders themselves might dish out as fitting for their transgression.

The forest grew quiet as Esyon's bulk began to eclipse the sun further, blotting it out. The birds and critters of the woods became still and silent as the artificial night moved in.

"Come on, Bec, hurry up!" Red's beak was split in an almost giddy grin. The woods cleared ahead, revealing a well-walked trail between the trees, and just as soon as they began on the path, it suddenly opened into a clearing.

The ritual henge.

Bec's breath stopped at that first sight. The edges of the clearing had the monolithic ancient stone slaps dotted around it, some on their sides, others leaning there they had sunk into the ground, and some neatly built up on top of each other. Each must have weighed tons. The original Arvians who constructed such ancient sites must have needed dozens or more Arvians to move even a single stone.

The site felt abuzz with a tingle of energy, like the static that raised one's feathers right before a lightning strike nearby in a storm. Bec felt a tremble of trepidation as his feet crossed the edge of the clearing, an anxious tightness gripping him with each step as he followed Red.

If either youth had known what would happen, they would have turned back then. Perhaps the spirits had known, and curiosity had been the thread of fate tugged upon to draw them in.

The Raven spun around with his arms outstretched and made a caw of delight!

"See? Incredible, isn't it? You can feel them here, can't you, the spirits?" The Raven asked.

Bec could feel something alright. Perhaps it was just the nature of such places, though. There was a weight like something was watching him, pressing its presence over him, looming like the shadow of the eclipse overhead. It grew darker with each passing moment. There was no spectacular ring of fire to be seen here. The eclipse blocked the sun in its entirety, hiding all traces of its light from the sky.

And then, when the sun became concealed entirely by Esyon's looming bulk, the clearing came alive.

One moment, the sun was completely blocked, the stars visible in the daylight sky. An almost unnatural stillness and silence covered the forest like a blanket. No birds chirped, and the wind fell to nothing. The only sound Bec could hear was the anxious drumming of his heartbeat in his head.

The next moment, wisps of light appeared all around, glowing, formless flickers of blues, greens, and turquoise. The same energy suffused the standing stones as well, creeping up them like so many vines from the forest floor. As his friend said, there was no doubt the spirits were here. It was just that he had always seemed to escape their notice.

"Woah! It's never done THAT before!" Red grinned. The albino raven was practically bouncing with excitement, hopping this way and that, trying to look at everything at once.

Perhaps it was his friend's calmness and excitement at all of it that put Bec at such ease. He took a few steps towards the altar in the centre of the clearing, more just an Arvian engraved slab of stone, where a hopeful would lay down for their ritual of change.

Lazily, Bec sat himself on the edge, looking around. The Stork seemed almost disappointingly disinterested, something Red caught onto. The albino Raven frowned at his friend.

“Isn't this at least a little exciting for you, Bec?" He asked. “The mystery? The significance of this spot? The power of the spirits made manifest?"

“I might be more awed if I expected to ever see this place again properly." The edge to his voice was part sombre, part frustration. Truthfully, he didn't even expect the tribe would tolerate him staying long enough to make anything of himself.

Something caught Bec's eye as he looked around, his long beak tilting. A little hare of ethereal blue skipped between the standing stones on the edge of the clearing. And beyond that, the image of a ghostly-looking fawn silently moved between the trees.

"Hmmm. Dreampals." He mused.

"Where? The wisps?" Red asked, looking over. He only saw the formless orbs of light dancing in the shadows.

"Yeah, they're just… All here. You said they liked these spots, right?"

Red nodded quickly. “Mmhm. When our tribes establish a new village, it is usually because there is a site where the spirits gather nearby. The Suntouched are the same way I've heard. It doesn't make sense to have to walk for days to reach a good spot to perform the ritual after all." The Raven cawed, smiling. 

Vermile knelt beside the altar stone Bec was sitting on, his fingers tracing the unlit runes along its surface, which were visible with the glowing wisp lights all around.

"Can you read any of it?" Bec asked, curious as he shifted about on the slap, rolling over so he could peer over the side where his friend was reading.

"A little, I think? It's all in Arvian, runes and fancy scratch marks." Red pointed out, tracing a fingertip along the engraved marks.

“So what are they?"

"I think they're names? It's not sentences; it's a list. See? They all go down the stone, one after another. Maybe the names of the changed? Or perhaps the shamans who performed the rituals here? See, this symbol-“He pointed to one rune that looked sort of like a house if you tilted your head and squinted.

"This one means Elder, I think? And the little squiggle next to it! I've seen that on some notes sent by Ender Galangar to my mentor! Do you think he was maybe a shaman?" Red asked.

"Ha! Do you think he was less of a grump when he was? He's never had a single nice thing to say about me!"

The pair laughed. Despite himself, Bec felt his mood improving little by little. Red had always had that effect on him. He humoured the excitable Raven as he kept muttering over the runes as he read them, glaringly white beak pointing like a finger running along the lines of runes as his pink eyes scanned the text.

"So, how exactly does the ritual work?" Bec asked, tilting his head. The motes of energy that fluttered around them were like strands of spider silk caught upon a gentle spring breeze.

Red looked up, clicking his beak a few times. 

“I was only permitted to see once, and that was because I snuck back out here after Elder Greypelt. Of course, he saw me almost right away trying to hide, but, well, I'm his apprentice. He asked the tribe member he was performing the ritual on, and they were okay with me observing. So, it's like…" He tried to describe it, halting and mumbling a bit as he found words.

"It was all dark when he started. He used some kind of spell to draw in the spirits, so everything lit up almost like it is now. Not nearly as bright, though, just the stones… And then…" He paused again and put a hand on Bec's chest gently, nudging him down onto the alter.

"The other one laid down like this, and Elder Greypelt-“Vermile took a step back and raised his Hands out to the sides. “He raised his paws, and then, he clapped his paws together and said-“The Arvian word was lost on Bec, but it resonated with power like a thunderclap as Vermile spoke in the ancient tongue.

And suddenly, Bec found his limbs heavy, as if they had been pulled down against the altar. Lights danced before his eyes as a sudden jolt of adrenaline shot through him, the Stork's feathers feeling like they were statically charged. Everything stood on end as if he was waiting for a thunderbolt to strike.

He tried to move, but he found he couldn't.

“Vermile! Red?! HELP." He wheezed desperately like a mighty palm had been pressed against his chest, pushing him down further against the stone with the weight of the world crushing the air from his lungs.

"Oh! Oh, OH FUCK BEC!" The Raven tried to approach, but a lashing tendril of energy whipped the apprentice shaman back from the altar, forcing him back.

His mentor's words rang in his ears like a cursed warning, an ominous phrase that would haunt him forever more.

Once the ritual had begun, it could not be interrupted. To do so would have spelt certain death for the person being changed.

And Red- Oh spirits, what have I done?! The Raven panicked. He'd started the ritual without meaning to! 

Every warning his mentor had given him rung with the clarity of a bell peel, but how was he to know the mere uttering of the first word would put such a thing into motion?!

"Red! Stop it, get me off of this!" Bec tried thrashing about, but he felt as if trapped beneath a boulder. It was all he could manage to turn his head and stare pleadingly at his friend to do something to help him!

And Red… Red was utterly powerless to stop it. He couldn't. Once the ritual was started, it could not be interrupted. If he stopped now, Bec could die! But what was he supposed to do? He could barely remember the first words, let alone the entire ritual!!

He had no choice.

“I'm sorry!" He hoped Bec could hear him. The winds had suddenly picked up as if a small tempest were gathering around the ritual site. All the while, the formless shapes of the spirits watched on with what seemed harsh indifference.

"I-I have to try and finish it now. I'm sorry Bec!" He was all but choking on the words, battling back his panic. It was a binary choice. If he somehow managed to complete the ritual, he could maybe save his friend… Or fail and let him die for sure as the chaotic power of the spirits overtook him.

Really, it was no choice at all. He had been heedless to even mutter such words of power in the spirits' presence. Vermile raised his hands up, focusing all that he could into trying to harness the tempestuous whirlwind of energies his own recklessness had invited upon his friend.

“What do you mean to finish it?! Red, cut it- AhhhH!" Bec's voice grew shrill as the apprentice Shaman raised his hands up and started reciting from memory. Still, to Bec, the words were lost to the wind, deafened by a howling gale all around him that kicked up leaves and shook the trees.

All the while, the spirits watched on, judging and curious but never intervening. If the change indeed was the spirits' will, intervention would not serve their goals.

He could feel the surging power that washed over his body like a wave, and a sudden rush of icy fear cascaded across him like he'd been lashed down in the surf. It felt crushing and cold. Immense, like the world itself was crashing down on him. His features twisted in anguish as he strained against whatever magic was holding him, to no avail.

Vermile did his best not to panic more, for he was already in full flight mode. Only the fear of abandoning his friend to his fate was more potent than the fear of what might happen if he stayed. He raised his hands, talons outstretched, to try to grasp the wispy threads of spiritual magic that swept around the ritual stones like spiderwebs caught in a gale.

His voice spoke in deep, Erdrich tones as he recited their rites or did his best to. He'd seen this done once, and even now, was nowhere near his notebook where he'd tried to frantically record every little thought down on paper afterwards.

"I'm sorry!" Vermile almost sobbed. Whatever came of it, it would be his fault.

On the altar, Bec's spine arched as another ripple of energy crashed through him with all the gentleness of a charging iron boar through the underbrush. It was an insidious pain, one that would have been entirely muted with a competent shaman administering the ritual. 

Vermile wasn't even a shaman in full, let alone much of an apprentice yet.

It slipped into his body at his feet with the ease of a scalpel, travelling along his legs and spine, into his shoulders and arms and neck before twisting sharply and making him scream out as the searing white pain ravaged his supine figure.

It was like having each nerve pulled out of his body, one by one, like molten silver slowly trickling along his veins. It was sharp and without remorse or care for his discomfort. Bec did not understand and couldn't even begin to comprehend the way the ritual was deforming and shaping him.

The arcane, spiritual energy swirled around him. It crept and gripped like a tangle of thorn bushes. It pulled and ripped like a weaver plucking seems. It was a force beyond reckoning and reason, and he was helpless to do anything but scream without a voice as it stole the air from his lungs as well.

Any hopes of crying out further were robbed by force. The ethereal energy holding him had him bound in its coils like a serpent, and the pain of its strikes lanced through him over and over again.

Vermile could barely see his twisting and writing friend through the maelstrom of magic. Even if Bec could have shouted, his voice would have been snatched from him like a leaf before a hurricane. It was all that he could do to help keep the ritual on track now. He raised his hands and tried his damnedest to haul in and direct the spiritual energy like a sailor trying to haul rope against the lashing of the gale.

And it was all Bec could do to endure the twisting changes wrought upon him. He thrashed and arched as his beak was reshaped before disbelieving eyes, feeling each painful pop and lurch as bones were grown like oak from the seed. Tendrils of muscles and blood vessels coiled around the new growth, shifting and expanding his form far beyond the slender and gangly Stork who had come before.

Nerves flared brightly in his mind as it felt like all his senses alighted at the same time, pain, bliss, agony, ecstasy, and all feelings in between threatening to overwhelm the Stork.

Keep your eyes open. If you rest, you will die.

He did not know who spoke the words in his mind. Were they words even? Or was it a sensation? A feeling? Amidst all else he felt and the howling of the magic in the air, he could not have rightly said. All the while, the spirits watched on from the sidelines, impassive, unmoving.

He fought the urge to clench his eyes shut as his fingers shifted and changed, merging and melding into broader, thicker digits and paws tipped with razor-edged talons. Previously thin, stalk-like legs grew out, tingling as skin and fur-coated the new frame. 

Bec's shouts and cries were lost to the howl. They fell only upon the spirits' unflinching ears despite the obvious distress in his agonised voice.

Vermile fought through tears, reciting the words of ancient Arvian to guide the magic to keep and preserve his friend, to will the change as the spirits wished and not simply as the chaotic magic forces of the eclipse would do if left unchecked. He spared a glance up towards the twin moon eclipse. 

Already, the shadows in the sky had become oblong, oval like an egg as Cereth passed before Esyon, accelerating ahead. Sunfire around the edge of the eclipse was beginning to appear as the moons started the second half of their dance. Soon, the eclipse would be over. He had to hurry!

"Bec! Just hold on! I'm trying, my friend! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" 

But Bec could not hear him.

Not over the pain, not over the pulling, the tearing, the changing.

Fight it as he might, but before the overwhelming power of the magic of the sacred Arvian ritual, he was but a newborn before the absolute fury of all the gathered might of the spirits and their will.

He screamed out one final time, a keening, pitiful wail of birdsong that lamented for an end to it. And then he collapsed upon the altar, his body utterly spent. The world faded to a distant memory of black. Mercifully, the pain fled him with his consciousness, at least for a time.

—————————————

“Bec? Bec, please wake up! Bec! You have to… You cannot go like this!"

The Stork groaned, voice raspy and hoarse as he tried to lift his head. Dampness covered a patch of his chest, and when he reached to feel the spot, his hand came into contact with Vermile's head. The albino raven felt small. He'd been crying. Bec could smell the salt in his tears.

“Bec!" The Raven shouted in relief, gasping as he sat up to give Bec room to stumblingly push himself upright.

The eclipse was over. Sunlight once again streamed down into the clearing of the ritual circle, and as Bec opened his golden pupil eyes, he found himself squinting against the harshness of just how bright it was. 

“Oh, thank the spirits, I thought you were dead! That I'd killed you!"

Bec groaned, still trying to process everything. He scrunched his eyes shut and rubbed at his face, hoping that it would clear the migraine just behind his temples.

“Wait? Killed me? Yea…" He groaned as a fresh wave of pain rolled over him as he shifted. All of this felt wrong, and it felt off like his perspective wasn't his own as he opened his eyes again to try and get his bearings. 

They were still in the scraped stone circle, but… Had they always been this small? Had Red always been that small? Had-

When Bec saw his hands, he let out a startled cry. Vermile tried to reassure him immediately.

"It's okay! It worked, Bec, it worked! It-hrrrk!" The Raven's words were cut out as Bec grabbed him and pinned him with no effort at all to the stone altar.

"What did you do to me?!?" Bec all but screamed, his voice a deep, unusual growl. Beneath him, Vermile thrashed, his beak flapping open and shut uselessly as hands that seemed far too tiny tried to grab at Bec's wrist and pull him back. Fresh tears stung on the white Raven's red eyes.

“B-Bec! Can't-“His voice was tiny and faint sounding, and yet Bec heard it as if it had been whispered into his eyes. He recoiled suddenly, releasing his friend's throat. Even from here, he could see that just grabbing him had bruised the Raven's flesh beneath his snowy white plumage.

“Wha… What did you do to me?" Bec gasped, looking at his hands. They were broad and tipped with razor talons. The beak that sat in his peripheral was familiar. Still, his mind recognised it as not the same as he had earlier today. He looked himself over and almost clawed his arm bloody, tracing his talon tips along his new musculature.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry Bec! How was I to know that would have begun the ritual?! I thought I was going to kill you-“

"And what when the elders see me?! You don't think they won't? I was…" Bec was hyperventilating as he looked around, fearful someone else from the tribe would have noticed their absence and come looking. “I was never meant to become an Arvian! I was the outcast! If I was lucky, they would have simply tolerated me living here, and now… Now, what am I supposed to do?!" He snarled at Vermile, the new and unfamiliar feline-like tail lashing behind him in frustration.

“They cannot exile us both! I'll say it was my fault-“Red started before Bec cut him off.

"It IS your fault, Red!" Bec growled, turning his sharp, Arvian features on his friend with a look that spat betrayal and hurt. He covered his face with his new, massive paws, wriggling his fingers and groaning quietly. He tried to stand and stumbled a step before he found the equilibrium in his new balance. 

Vermile tried to catch and help him, but Bec shoved him back with his beak that was as long as a blade now, jabbing at him in a quick thrust that forced the albino raven back with a rawk of protest.

“They wouldn't exile you anyway; you are the Shaman's star pupil. Me though?" Bec gawked as he examined just how massive he was now… Before, he had been almost spindly. Now, thanks to the spirits and Vermile, he looked like he had been carved from the trunk of the mightiest oak, his frame stretching an easy eight or nine feet, powerful muscles rippling along his form.

"I don't even know what I am now." Bec sighed. What hope he had left him like the retreating shadows of the passing eclipse.

"No, they would not! You are Arvian now! And I would vouch for you! I would tell them it was my fault! Trust me! I can speak with the Shaman. Maybe… Maybe they can undo this?"  Vermile suggested, though his tone was very uncertain.

"We can't! They would never accept me now, and-“

“Just let me speak with Greypelt at least, please? He can help! He'd help me!" Vermile all but pleaded.

Bec wanted, so desperately wanted, to hold onto his anger at his friend, but the intensity he felt had been sapped from him. His limbs felt heavy, and he wasn't sure if it was because of their new physical weight or simply the emotional weight of everything crushing him down. He glanced for just a moment at Vermile.

The Raven's pale pink eyes couldn't hold that contact, and he looked away, feeling chastised just by the look his newly changed friend must have given him.

"Fine… But ONLY Greypelt. And bring me back a rucksack and my things. There's few enough of them, and if I have to leave, I don't want to go back into the village to get anything."

—————————————

It was almost a full sun mark by the time Vermile emerged from the underbrush, leading a tall, grey and hawkish Arvian behind him. Tribal fetishes, bird skulls and assorted rounders of polished stones and metals jangled on long necklaces around the hulking Arvian's throat, a half mask of bone covering a good portion of the Elder's face.

Beside them, a petite, blue-glowing dreampal danced along the air, skipping as if on invisible stones to cross a river. Its form was a small bobcat, nimbly bouncing from spot to spot as it followed along with the Elder. It gave Bec a look that seemed to be grinning, but it may have just been a feline yawn as it stretched and settled on the top of one of the tallest ritual stones.

Bec was still sitting on the stone slab where Vermile had left him, a fact the Albino raven was glad for and one that Bec was still kicking himself for. Bec couldn't help but notice that Red had conveniently forgotten to collect the pack of his things like he'd asked.

The idea of simply standing up and fleeing into the wildness had been appealing, but what then? Where was he supposed to go? It was an easy solution but one that ultimately led him nowhere.

“Here, Elder Greypelt! See, I told you! The spirits have changed Bec!" The Raven cawed with a mix of nervousness and excitement, gesturing to Bec.

"So I can see…" he commented dryly, but with a hint of surprise and perhaps… wonder? There was something in the Elder's look as he studied the new made form that Bec had taken before him. Somewhat unique with his long beak, but it was unmistakably Bec. Unsteady in his gate when he tried to stand. All parts the fledgling, but undeniably all parts Arvian.

“What happened. Tell me everything. Spare no detail; this is important." The elder Shaman ordered, circling around Bec a few times slowly, occasionally reaching over to prod or request Bec move in some way, examining his newly changed form.

And so Vermile told him, starting from the very beginning, and spared no detail. When the Elder Arvian needed clarification, he paused and asked for it. Vermile and Bec did their best to furnish him with details.

The Elder didn't seem furious as Bec had feared. However, his eyes kept flicking back and forth between the two as they spoke, an odd mixture of awe and worry upon his beak and facial features.

"Well, I know for a fact that neither of you could have accomplished this on your own. Vermile is far too untrained to simply stumble onto the ritual of change without some aid from the spirits." The silver-hackled Arvian muttered, frowning and sitting down. 

“Your change being undertaken under the twin eclipse seems a sign, but I am not a skilled enough interpreter of the spirits' will to say just what exactly it means, nor why you specifically were chosen for this…" The Elder seemed perturbed by the happenings. His dreampal, on the other hand, curiously hopped around Bec and even brushed against his leg with a very feline purr.

"We should return to the tribe. The council will need to be informed, but even they are not so foolish as to deny the spirits' will. Were it not for them, I have no doubts you would no longer be among us, Bec… My own feelings about your origins aside, I cannot deny what the spirits have done here." The Elder spoke in a quiet, if reserved, and hesitant tone. They had never particularly seen eye to eye.

Now, confronted with what was undeniably the spirits' blessing of the change bestowed upon one he personally would not have chosen for such an honour… His own feelings had to be set aside in the face of their designs made manifest. One did not accidentally become an Arvian. The entire ritual hinged upon the applicant being suitable and seen as worthy and ideal by the spirits. This was known.

If he denied Bec that same right now, it would be to deny the facts of the rituals and his very being that he knew to be the truth. None completed the ritual without the spirits' blessing, even the Suntouched.

“So then, what will become of me? Will the council decide to just throw me out, then? Some unintended-“

"No. They would not. Whatever you may be, Bec, You're Arvian now. The spirits willed that much into being. I do not think any of the tribal elders would go against their dreampals by trying to imply otherwise… An Eclipseborn, though? The implications are concerning. A Moonkissed Arvian created in the shadow of the daylight night… No, the council must be informed. The spirits will know what to make of this omen." He nodded firmly, dipping his beak.

The Shaman's dreampal atop the ritual stones stretched lazily and bounded down to rub up and step between Bec's feet as the new Arvian stood unsteadily. At least one of them seemed to approve of him.

But as for what this change meant? Perhaps only the spirits knew.

Guided by Red on limbs yet to grow used to their new strength, he took the first shaky steps back towards the tribe and, ultimately, whatever fate the spirits had in store for him.