Everyone stared at the messenger for a moment. Gord grabbed the opportunity.

"Of course not, we were just resolving a disagreement between friends. Cad, I'm sure he didn't mean it. What was the message?"

The short messenger, seeming to realise he'd stepped into far more than he'd bargained for, stammered out a summons for a meeting with my grandpa, father and the Mother.

Perfect.

"Then we cannot delay. Lead us to them." Gord declared. Turning to the blond man Cad still held at spear point, he simply smiled.

"It seems we'll need to continue this at another time. Hero duties, you see, nothing I can do about it."

Waving Cad down, Gord went to pick Sleepy up. The aggressive totem spirit nestled into the crook of his arm, then turned her head and hissed at Blondie again.

Don't worry, girl, we'll remember him.

Imprinting Blondie's face in his memory, Gord grabbed Cad and they followed the messenger to the meeting place.

"Are you going to drop the spear?" Gord asked, seeing Cad's white knuckled grip on the shaft of wood.

Cad chuckled.

"They were kind enough to gift it to us, it would be rude to just give it back."

Adrenaline slowly leaking away, Gord's hands started shaking.

"Shit. Hold Sleepy for me, Cad? My body has caught up with my mind."

Giving her over to his friend, Gord remembered his brothers' advice about the battle shakes. Everyone gets them in the beginning. It's when you no longer shake that you're a warrior.

Ha, I didn't even fight anyone and I'm shivering like a foal. Real brave, Wolfbane.

Despite his disparaging introspection, he was pleased with the way he acted. He didn't take a fight he couldn't win but also didn't shame his tribe by refusing in public. Of course, they'd try again, likely somewhere even more exposed.

Gord sighed.

This is my life now.

He'd never been seen as a threat before. While that stung his pride, he now knew it had protected him. It was more imperative than ever for him to figure out how his abilities worked.

Blight, I don't even know what they are.

Gord tried to calm himself down but getting challenged had fully impressed upon him just how far in he was over his head. He couldn't even take his place among his brothers as a fierce warrior for the tribe, how could he stand above them as a Marked?

Thinking back to the first time he'd heard about Marked, from his grandfather, he'd been enthralled by their displays of awe-inspiring power. The Bore, a massive sinkhole said to go down to the centre of the world, was drilled by Dor Earthmover. The Half-Peak, a mountain in the Drakonback Mountain range, was cut straight through by the Final Spear. No one knew where the missing summit ended up.

Gord had imagined himself among their number, leaving a permanent legacy among the tribes. But he couldn't even fend off a half-hearted hit to his reputation, needing to be saved by his family yet again. He was too weak.

As always, the answer was more power.

Cad noticed Gord's distracted expression.

"Hey, are you good?"

"Not really, no. This whole Wolfbane thing has made me important and I'm realising that comes with repercussions. I don't know if I'm ready for it all."

"You've always been important to me, Gord."

Gord smiled despite himself.

"Stop it Cad, I'm serious. I'm a 'somebody' now. People know who I am. People respect me. It's weird."

Cad smirked.

"Gord, you're the son of a chief, the chief if we're being honest, who publicly dotes on you. You've always been a 'somebody', you've just never noticed it before. That's especially true now that you're, you know. You're only going to get more important."

He gestured with Sleepy to make his point without letting the messenger hear things he shouldn't.

Gord knew he was right. He just couldn't reconcile Gord, the weird kid who collects rocks, with Gord Wolfbane, a hero who'd saved lives by running into death's jaws.

"Yeah you're right. But I don't understand how I'm getting challenged already. Just yesterday that blond guy would've laughed me out of the room if I'd come up to him seeking glory."

Cad shrugged.

"You'd never involved yourself in tribal politics before so no one involved you in it, but yesterday you showed everyone that you're not just the last of your siblings. Everyone is scrambling for every last advantage. Now, your support means something."

"My support?"

"For warchief. You really need to sit with Gradal and have him teach you this stuff, you'll get eaten alive out there. Factions who think they can sway you will entice you with gifts and promises, and factions who don't will send challenges hoping to tear you down and make your support worthless, while also striking at a previously untouchable enemy, the Ashwalkers. It's why you haven't seen much of your brothers recently, they're laying low just like you were supposed to. "

The tradition of a tribemeld was very old, dating back to the wars between men and almost-men. Whenever an almost-man incursion or migration would occur, the human tribes would form a tribemeld and a warchief would be selected to lead the offensive. The almost-men hadn't been seen since before the Godswar, but the custom remained.

In the Frontier however, the position had expanded. The warchief directed the hunting efforts after Ashfall and appointed subordinates to oversee storage, maintain the weapon supply and resolve inter-tribe disputes. Crucially, the Ashwalker chief could not be voted warchief. This was one of the conditions Garkal had accepted in order to make the tribemeld work in the first place. Gradal, during his time as chief, had finagled his way into securing a permanent position as deputy warchief and through his political acumen, managed to play kingmaker, ensuring that becoming warchief was only possible through Ashwalker endorsement.

Why it was so important? The ash. Warchiefs had full ownership of any ash collected after Ashfall. Usually, only lesser spirits, sprites, could be trapped in talismans and harnessed at will. However, with the right lure, in this case the ash, stronger spirits such as rain spirits and life spirits could be caught. These greater talismans were much more versatile and much more powerful than their lesser variants and each warchief was forced to give a share of the ash to every tribe to make their own life-attuned greater talismans. But the warchief and thus the warchief's tribe, got the largest share and were thus in the greatest position after the tribemeld ended. In the absence of Marked, greater talismans decided the balance of power among the Frontier tribes.

Gord rubbed his temples.

I should just go back to my rocks.

The trio had finally reached the meeting place, a small cavern at the end of a series of twisting, convoluted passageways. The messenger left them as soon as they saw Greg, Gradal and the Mother sitting illuminated under the soft blue glow of the walls.

The Mother pursed her mouth at the sight of him.

"Our young hero arrives. Tell me, Wolfbane, does sound advice simply slide out of your ears? Or did you decide that that spot on your head meant you couldn't die?"

Gord frowned. Eldest Mother could always get under his skin.

"Was I meant to let my brother get eaten in front of me? I won't apologise, Mother, no matter how inconvenient it is to your plans."

Gradal stepped in.

"Now now, let's at least deal with the issue we all came here to discuss before we devolve into squabbling, yes?"

The Mother rolled her eyes and Gord just frowned harder.

Gradal continued.

"Now, Gord. I was told something very interesting by the Mother and my son a short while ago. Something interesting and dangerous. Can we talk about it or will we need a bit more privacy?"

Gord squinted at his grandpa.

Is someone listening in?

"Whatever you were told, the situation has changed. Mother, we definitely need privacy."

To her credit, Eldest Mother didn't hesitate at all, bringing out a sound talisman and activating it immediately. She sighed.

"Well, now the rival Mothers know we're discussing something important. Make this worth it, boy."

"I met a god last night. A new god."

At this, Gradal's eyes widened, Greg started coughing and the Mother actually stood up from her seat.

She opened and closed her mouth for a bit before deciding on a response.

"You must explain. Leave nothing out."

So Gord told them everything that had happened since closing his eyes and meeting Pyrra. Gradal chuckled when he heard that Sleepy, the "deformed bird with teeth" was actually a totem spirit.

Greg was the first to speak after Gord was done.

"We need ash."

Gradal and the Mother shared a glance. They had realised the same thing Greg had. A storm was coming upon the Ashwalkers.

The Mother spoke in her harsh tones.

"Yes. This information puts the spirit beast wave in perspective. They're likely fleeing this Pyrra's aura, which is why normal animals aren't migrating as well."

Cad piped up.

"Why would Pyrra be in the human realm?"

"Ignorant boy. This 'god' has likely been here since Gord was born. There's a lot you don't know about Marked. But why only now? What's forcing this plan into motion and why is it coinciding with the wave? This is concerning."

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Gradal leaned in to add his part.

"He could just travel north and see for himself. He should be safer than most."

Greg immediately cut in.

"Into the spirit beast hordes? I forbid it. Not everyone needs an adventure, father."

What Greg didn't know is that Gord did need an adventure. He'd needed one his entire life. But he also knew he wouldn't last out in the wilds. No matter. The answer was the same as always.

Power. That's really what it comes down to. I was handpicked by a Great Spirit and I still have adults deciding what I can and can't do. I'm too weak.

He resolved to take Pyrra's advice and use the time he had wisely. The only way he could find renown and the only way to grow his collection to the largest in the world was to become the strongest. He felt a hum of assent from Sleepy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I take it you failed."

"It is simply a temporary setback, Mo- shaman. The boy was summoned by the Eldest Mother at the same time I threw down the spear, there was nothing I could do. Next time, he won't be so lucky."

"Yes, we noticed a privacy bubble erected deeper within the caves, it must have been a secret meeting. The mystery around that boy confounds me.... Anyway, you're dismissed."

Footsteps padded off into the distance, getting fainter and fainter.

"Should we use it?"

"It's the only one we own. Skyfather knows when we might get another wind-attuned greater talisman."

"So what? A spear is useless unless thrust at the enemy. We must find out what the secret is behind that boy and we have the means to do so. Why do we still debate?"

"Because we don't know what the secret is even about. This could all be for nothing."

"Balo smiles upon the bold."

"A useless platitude for battle-drunk young fools. I'd like to think we're above such base motivations."

"I'll personally guarantee it. If this turns out to be nothing, I will make us a new talisman myself."

"Easy to say now, much harder when you have to travel to the Dandelion Plains."

"If I cannot, simply strip me of my title until I do."

There was a stunned silence in the room.

"We're in agreement? Good. Let's find out what the Eldest Mother wanted to hide so dearly."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gord and Cad had been put on a rotating room schedule. Every night they'd be moved to another place with guards posted at all entrances with orders to stop anyone from seeing Gord, especially those carrying spears.

Even with all the beefed up security protocols, they weren't completely hidden. Pretty girls bearing gifts had shown up several times, coming to see Gord for once. Shame they were all manipulation attempts.

Everyone at the meeting had agreed that Gord wasn't ready enough to be out in public just yet, so they put him through essentially another apprenticeship. Only, instead of basic hunting and survival skills, he got a crash course in the three pillars of power he'd rely on in future.

Lessons on tribal politics from Gradal. Actual sparring with his father, Greg. And shaman practice with the Mother.

He'd been making great progress in politics and fighting, but hit a wall in his shamanic abilities.

"Your problem is you're trying to draw power from your patron."

Gord was confused at the Mother's words.

"Yes, that's what I'm trying to do. I don't see your point."

"Silly boy. You are not a spirit. Pyrra is. Without a shaman's Flame, you cannot speak their language so you cannot directly request power like Touched do."

"Okay, so how am I meant to do this then?"

"Foolish boy. Your totem spirit has one foot in the physical and one foot in the spiritual. It serves as the link through which you draw your power. Focus on your totem, not your god."

Gord closed his eyes and tried that instead. Sleepy was sleeping against a wall and Cad was off doing Cad things, so it was just Gord and the Mother in the nearly empty cavern.

Focusing on that feeling he got whenever Sleepy projected her emotions into his mind, he mentally grabbed its source. Unsure of what to do, Gord squeezed.

Sleepy yelped, startled awake by suddenly bursting into flame, casting all sorts of crazy shadows. Gord exclaimed in shock, but stopped running towards her when he saw that she wasn't actually burning. In fact, only the red tips of her feathers were on fire and nothing was getting consumed.

"A bit premature but a good start. You only want to channel directly into your totem after you first Boon. Next time, pull the energy out instead of igniting it where it is."

Gord eagerly tried this next. Focusing on the feeling again, this time he drew it out slowly, like pulling a thread through a needle. The energy steadily built in his body until..

Fwoosh!

Gord's hands went up in flame. Knowing what to expect, he didn't freak out, instead just staring at his burning hands with a mixture of wonder and excitement, turning them over and back.

I actually did that. I actually DID THAT!

He'd seen Cad and other Touched use their Flame, but it was always small, jetting out from one finger only. This was bigger, better. More powerful.

Illuminated in the orange light, Eldest Mother saw Gord's smile growing as he exulted in his new abilities. She saw the spirits take note of this new development. Instead of staying away from him as usual, they started circling him slowly. Never too close, they were always three strides away or more. But they were clearly circling Gord.

"Mysteries wrapped in secrets. This boy will either be the tribe's greatest pride or the reason for its destruction."

Eldest Mother, sitting in her seat watching Gord play with his newest toys, suddenly went slack in her chair, eyes shining purple.

She was having a vision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A gust of wind blew its way through Ashfall Valley. Unimpeded, it flowed between trees, over rocks, around dangerous predators and their equally dangerous prey.

It leaped across the Ash River, climbed up the Drakons Tail and slipped through Drakon Pass, unnoticed.

It noticed all however. The world outside the valley was in utter turmoil.

A truly epic storm of dark, menacing clouds, stretching from horizon to horizon, was lashing the earth underneath it. Gale force winds were tearing up plants, rocks, and the odd creature that hadn't already fled in the face of the storms wrath, flinging them with impunity. Rains so heavy there was constant flooding, eroding away the Drakonbacks themselves. Blasts of lightning so thick, every strike cratered the ground directly below it, leaving permanent scars on the land.

The storm was headed directly for the Valley. Its destruction seemed.. inevitable.

Then the Ash Mountain started shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She came to under the gaze of a concerned looking Gord. When he saw her regaining her wits, he looked away quickly, pretending to have never worried at all. She suppressed a grin.

He'll have to grow much harder to survive what's coming. And maybe if he's hard enough, he'll save us too.

"That's enough for today. Ready yourself, boy."

"What's happening?"

"The end of Ashfall. We'll be leaving tomorrow."

On that bombshell, Gord left the Mother's presence, Sleepy hopping after him.

Walking back to their room for the day, Gord gave the password to his guards and entered the alcove he and Cad shared. Cad was already packing up.

Gord asked the obvious question.

"I take it you heard?"

"Well yeah, I'm a shaman, technically. Anything spirit related, I hear about first."

Sleepy padded her way to him, her claws surprisingly quiet against the stony ground of the cavern. She jumped in excitement in front of Cad and he laughed, throwing her a bite of meat and scratching her belly.

Traitor.

Not willing to break up the moment, Gord went over to his collection. Opening up the chest, he felt the soothing whispers again. His collection would never betray him. Running his eyes over the various weapons and artifacts he'd gathered during his time here. An elephant tusk spear-thrower, a sacrificial knife that was apparently made from the antler of a white deer and some substance Gord had never encountered before, obsidian, among other things. He'd greatly expanded his repertoire of stuff and his soul was sated for now. His reputation as the greatest collector the world had ever seen was only growing more robust by the day. Though ever since he'd talked to Pyrra, the very walls of the caves they were in spoke to him in faint, half-heard promises. He'd tried asking the Mother about it but he'd gone at a bad time and she chased him out. No matter, he'd ask her later.

With a few more preparations, the next day, tribemeld was ready to go into the Valley.

Wise women scryed the area around the mountains first, then scouts were tentatively sent out. They hadn't seen any overly powerful and stealthy spirit beasts yet, but the memory of the alpha wolf showing up in the heart of the caverns guided every cautious act. They knew that a beast stealthy enough would just slip by unnoticed.

Still, they had no choice but to leave, their supplies had been carefully measured out to last them until the end of Ashfall and not much further. As such, the Rockbreakers went out first, the order having been decided via the drawing of straws. As they filed up towards Drakon Pass, they gave the all-clear and the other tribes slowly trickled out. Many gave shouts of joy, quickly shushed by their neighbours, at seeing Balo's light for the first time in a moon.

Inside the Valley proper, a transformation was taking place. To the normal eye, it looked like plants had started growing up through the heavy layer of ash, as new growth filled the valley.

To the shamans, however, it was art. Life spirits filled the entire Valley, to the point that the shamans struggled to see the ash underneath all the spirits. They weren't just populating the ground either, thousands of them drifted in the wind above the Valley. It was almost like the entire valley was ablaze in green fire that released choking green smoke. There were just too many spirits.

Every person entering the Pass felt a rejuvenating jolt of energy as they passed into the valley proper. Children and the inexperienced exclaimed in wonder and shock, while Ashfall veterans just shook their heads laughing at the antics they themselves used to do.

The Valley was still inundated with ash though, and every tribe looked on greedily as they thought about the power that ash represented. The Ashwalkers however, just smiled at their return home.

The tribemeld set up in a loose sprawl against the valley wall, on one of the Drakonbacks. Building started immediately, with huts and tents going up en masse, each getting covered with ash to camouflage against, well, the rest of the ash.

Each tribe was experienced with quickly constructing settlements, so the temporary village was completed swiftly.

Greg looked out over the construction, standing with Eldest Mother.

"What do you think we missed?"

"I'm not sure, chief. But there were too many slip-ups for us to reasonably guarantee his safety. We must assume he's been found out by at least one person by now, which means that if the other Mothers don't already know, they'll find out soon enough."

Greg sighed.

"Okay, let's just get this ceremony over with so we can root out the rot."

The ceremony in question was a tradition started by his grandfather, to signify the end of Ashfall and the unity of the tribes for as long as they were all reaping the valley's blessings.

Greg beat a comically large hide drum, calling everyone to the clearing just above the housing area.

Standing atop a makeshift stage, Greg brought the other chiefs up with him, ten in total.

Greg started things off.

He walked out in front of the gathered chiefs, lifted a knife and cut into his hand. Blood welled up out of the wound and Greg raised his hand up high. The crimson liquid ran down his forearm.

"With this, the Ashwalkers thank the Skyfather for the bounteous gifts he grants us each day, the sky that shields us and the rain that slakes our thirst."

He then crouched low on the stage, holding his hand out and letting the blood drip into the ash.

"With this, the Ashwalkers thank the Earthmother for staying her wrath each day, keeping our path true and granting us life-giving ash."

At that, he stepped to the side and let every other chief make the same offering. Looking out over the crowd, he could already see people sneaking off to collect the ash left around the settlement after the construction efforts. He paid them no mind though. As long as the life spirits were here, hiding ash was impossible as there'd invariably be a life spirit or two stuck to any hidden cache, immediately noticeable to the shamans.

Hearing the chiefs speak, Greg wasn't sure about how he felt towards the ritual. On the one hand, they'd learned that the Earthmother was the personification of destruction and the devastation caused by constant earthquakes and eruptions seemed to support that. But on the other, they all saw the ash come out of the mountain. Directly from the Earthmothers womb. But it gave their Valley life beyond measure. Again though, it killed everything in the Valley before it did that. Greg figured spirits were complicated, just like humans. The thought was oddly comforting.

Walking up to the Eldest Mother whom, unfortunately, he needed, he spoke.

"The ritual's done. Now the politicking begins."

"Don't have such a disdainful look on your face. The only reason you can ignore tribal relations the way you have is because your father is a genius."

"Believe me, I know. How I wish I could get rid of all of you. It rankles that I must stoop to this. But we do what we must, not what we want."

"Quoting daddy? What a dutiful son. Now run along and play nice."

Greg turned towards the Mother, towering over her frail form, yet she stared right back into his steely grey eyes, defiant.

"Don't push it, crone."

At that, he went off to be seen with the right chieftains. He'd been coached extensively by Gradal and the Mother as a child and as a young chief so he was also politically savvy. He just hated the entire thing.

The Mother watched him walk off.

He chafes more and more under my direction. This may turn into a problem.

As she stood, pondering, Gord walked by, deep in conversation with Cad, his strange, feathered totem nipping at their heels.

Another problem in the making. That boy needs more than one friend. Though it is an unexpected boon, avenues for coercion are nearly non existent. But he'll break if that one lifeline is taken away. I may need to send Cad away for a time, to get Gord used to being alone.

The Eldest Mother rubbed carefully at her lower back. When you were her age, pain was just a fact of life rather than an event you reacted to. Today it was her back more than everything else, tomorrow it would be her knees, the day after, something else.

She didn't have the time to focus on the pain however. The vote was tomorrow and she had work to do.

We're not ready.

There was always work to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Step, drag. Step, drag.

The sound of Fika's feet upon the rocky tundra accompanied her like a mocking song reminding her of her cowardice.

No. I survived. I live to fight another day. It's only cowardice if I never go back.

To her eternal shame, she knew deep down that she didn't want to go back. That beast had killed everyone she knew and very nearly her as well.

Elder Sara had told her of a young warrior that had come to the tribe years before her time. She'd been quite enthralled by him, but he couldn't stay. When asked why, he told her, "We do what we must, not what we want."

I don't want to go back. I accept that. But I must.

A screech in the air startled her, making her immediately activate her talisman. She'd managed to capture the mischief sprite and was using its invisibility to shuffle her way away from the danger. She hadn't managed to find another cache of life spirits and thus hadn't been able to heal herself. Her ankle had gotten worse over time, to the point that she was afraid she would be left with a permanent limp.

No matter. Nothing else matters. Only revenge.

Blowing hair out of her face yet again, she continued on her way.

Step, drag. Step, drag.