Teng followed Merakk down the last hill, the ground sloping into an open stretch of grass where beasts grazed lazily in fenced enclosures. The beasts—he presumed them to be animals and not at the savage stage—moved on four limbs, their broad chests and thick, hairy muzzles giving them a hulking, cumbersome appearance. They sniffed at the grass, docile as they wandered, and munched a bit on it here and there. At a glance, they seemed harmless but so did venomous snakes and frogs before they struck. Teng kept his guard up.

Men and women, though mostly men, moved with purpose between the squat, hut-like homes Merakk had called "houses." Their heads, even the women's, were shaved clean. On their foreheads, each bore a circular black burn mark, detailed with the shape of a fang. Was this the tribe's way of marking its people? Teng had never seen such a mark on the old man.

“What are those marks?” Teng asked, his gaze lingering on a woman whose slender figure was draped in a tattered piece of thin leather, tied in place by a strip of the same material.

"Oh, you mean the workers. They're property," Merakk replied bluntly.

"Property?" Teng echoed, frowning. "What is property?"

"They are the defeated—men and women from other tribes we've conquered. They belong and work for us.”

“Work for you? Like service to the tribe?"

"Something like that," Merakk said with a shrug.

"So they're like me?” Teng asked, his tone uncertain.

Merakk snorted. "No, Laddie. They get nothing from their labor. They should be grateful for food in their belly and a roof over their heads."

“For how long?”

"How they must work? Until they die.”

"What about children and if the wokers have children?"

"Property," Merakk said without hesitation. "Under tribe law, the children of property become property. If they show promise for cultivation, they might earn a place in the tribe by rendering service until their worth is paid. Otherwise, they stay as they are."

"That's… cruel,” Teng said, watching the shaved workers with pity.

"It's life, Laddie.”

"What's tribe law?” Teng asked after a pause.

"You'll learn in time," Merakk said.

Teng had known the thing was massive. He'd seen it from his vantage point on the hill overlooking the town. But as he got closer, the wall, as Merakk had called it, seemed to grow larger with each step. It loomed over him, casting a shadow across the grass at his side. The houses seemed small and insignificant compared to the wall's sheer size.

They walked along a trampled path, the grass flattened beneath many feet. The path led to the wall, where two enormous wooden planks, serving as "gates," had been pushed inward to allow them entry. Two workers stood guard by the entrance—big, strong men with shaved heads, thick beards, and markings on their shoulders. Teng decided he would find out why these men had their markings on their shoulders, unlike those earlier workers.

The men deferred to Merakk as he and Teng approached, addressing him as "Merakk the Bear." Teng was curious to know why he was called that; Merakk wasn't big. Perhaps it had to do with his strength. He was a merge-stage cultivator—the fourth stage. Teng didn't fully understand what that meant, but he knew enough to realize it was mighty in this new world he had found himself within.

As they passed through the gates, Teng felt like he had stepped into an entirely different world. The town buzzed with life. People moved constantly, their voices blending together to form unrecognizable tangles of sound. Smoke rose from various places, carrying unfamiliar scents that mingled with the smell of animals and cooking food. Most of all, the town smelled of sweat, thick and musky. Teng felt overwhelmed—stifled, even—and, if he were honest with himself, a little afraid.

The wooden houses looked sturdy, with carved holes to let in light and air. Between the homes, narrow paths snaked up to their sides. Beast parts, stone, flint, and wood tools –and more he couldn’t name– hung from walls and roofs everywhere he looked. Round wooden containers filled with items Teng didn't recognize lay stacked against some houses.

As they walked, people greeted Merakk warmly but eyed Teng with suspicion.

"So, what do you think of the city?" Merakk asked.

"It's… big," Teng said, still taking it all in.

"Everything is big compared to your village."

"How many people are in your tribe?"

Merakk considered the question before replying casually, "The tribe, a few hundred. The town, a few thousand."

"Thousands?" Teng blurted out, stunned. He hadn't known there were so many people in the world, much less a single place.

They continued walking, and Teng's eyes darted, trying to take in everything. They passed large buildings that reminded him of the kill-house in his valley, but these were on a far larger scale. People constantly moved in and out, carrying the carcasses of beasts of all kinds. On the other side of the kill houses, workers emerged, bringing out meat that had been dissected and dried in the sun and wind, and some that was caked in a strange white powder. The smell of the powder stung Teng's nose like tiny biting bone awls. He guessed it was some kind of preserving method, though it was unlike anything he'd seen in his village.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

As they walked further, Teng noticed other types of buildings. Some were filled with people sitting and eating food, but they seemed like something other than homes. There were far too many people inside for it to belong to a single family. The sight of it was strange to Teng—so many people gathered together to eat in one place, but there was no ritual, reverence, or air of festivity. The further into the town they went, the bigger the houses became, spaced further apart with fewer people around.

One thing that was similar to his valley was how big of a role beasts played in this town. Hides and skins hung everywhere. He could even see some that had lore within them, something he'd never seen in his own village. Perhaps this was from savages or primordials; he did not know.

They finally reached the edge of the town, the upward slope ending on a flat patch of clear rock and soil. Here, a myriad of houses had been built close to each other.

They approached the most prominent house in the settlement. Merakk knocked, and a young woman opened the door. A brand marked her forehead, and she kept her gaze down, not daring to meet theirs. Merakk barely looked at her as he spoke. "Tell the Ualirc of my return."

The young woman nodded and disappeared into the house. Moments later, she returned, wordlessly leading them inside.

Teng had thought calling it a "wooden house" was an understatement. It was enormous—five or six times the size of the homes in his village, more extensive than even the kill houses where beasts were butchered. The air smelled faintly of smoke and something sweet, like dried berries, though he was unsure.

The walls of the house were lined with carved bones and carefully tanned hides, yet he could see no purpose for them. Was this the same as having the cleanest, sturdiest fighting stick in his village? A source of pride? He could not understand why such useful material hung on the walls and wasn't used in the making of things.

They entered a spacious room through what Merakk called a "door," similar to the movable hides used at hut entrances in Teng's village. Soft white fur blanketed the floor, tickling Teng's feet like freshly fallen snow, though it didn't leave him wet. In the center, a fireplace rimmed with stones crackled warmly, surrounded by thick logs draped with fur and something soft and squishy beneath, where the two sat down.

After what felt like an eternity of waiting, six people entered. Leading them was a massive man, his clothing far brighter than Merakk's. Intricate patterns of beast adorned the glossy brown fur he wore, while his legs were wrapped in a strange, black material that gleamed like polished river stones.

Behind him came an older man and woman. The older man bore a striking resemblance to Merakk, though his long black hair was streaked with gray, and his beard was meticulously braided. The woman's equally dark hair framed a face weathered with time, with sunken, ruddy eyes.

Two young men and a young woman followed. The woman caught Teng's attention immediately. Her short black hair framed strong features, and her bright eyes seemed to take in everything at once.

"Uncle," the large man said, clasping Merakk's hand in a warrior's grip. "You've returned.”

“How are things here?” Merakk asked with a grin.

The Chief deferred to the older man beside him, who stepped forward with a warm smile.

"Brother," he greeted, clasping Merakk's hand. "We can speak of that later. Who is that?”

Teng shifted awkwardly, unsure of his place.

Merakk gestured toward him. "This is Teng, a young man I encountered during my travels. He's from a small village in an isolated and knows little about cultivation. I promised him a chance to become a cultivator in our service."

The Chief raised an eyebrow. "It's rare for you to bring someone back with you, Uncle. We have much to discuss." He turned to the young woman and one of the young men. "Vasha, Gorra, show Teng to a room where he can rest."

Vasha and Gorra exchanged a glance.

Teng rose and met Merakk's gaze, receiving a silent nod before trailing after the two figures. Behind him, Merakk and the others remained in the room, their low voices blending into the crackle of the fire as he walked away.

Once outside the room, Vasha turned to Teng. ""I'm Vasha, and this is my brother, Gorra,"

"Teng." he introduced himself.

Gorra smirked. “Yes, we heard. So, a small village? And you've never heard of cultivation?"

"Didn't think there were many of those tribes left," Vasha added.

Teng hesitated, then explained, "Outsiders attacked my village. They stole something, our sleeping guardian.

"Your sleeping what?” Gorra asked, his brow furrowed. His sister's face mirrored his lack of understanding.

"You call it a paragon bone," Teng clarified.

"And you went after them alone?" Vasha's tone was skeptical.

"It didn't go well," Teng admitted, feeling embarrassed. “Merakk found me. He helped me track them, and I managed to slip into their camp and steal the bone back."

"Kindly talked with them?" Gorra said, snorting. "That sounds like Merakk."

“He is good at kindly talking with people," Vasha said with a knowing smile.

"You mean he did something else? Hurt them?"

"Killed them." Gorra corrected bluntly. "He's Merakk the Bear, after all."

Vasha and Gorra led him to a rectangular room, where a strange structure stood—a "bed," they called it. It was made of wood and covered in the soft furs of various animals, most prominently a bear.

"Am I supposed to sleep on that?"

"What, you don't have beds in your village?" Vasha asked, laughing.

"We sleep on furs. On the ground," Teng said. "To be closer to the mountain spirit.

"Who's the mountain spirit?" Vasha asked.

"Whoever that is, it's a question for another day," Gorra said as he moved to the door of the room. "Did Merakk tell you about your tasks here?"

Teng nodded, putting down his fighting stick and pack. "I'm to become a cultivator and serve the tribe to get a paragon bone."

Vasha and Gorra looked at each other. "Buy a paragon bone?" Gorra repeated. "Why do you need one? Didn't you just say Merrak helped you get yours back?"

"Ours in the village won't last much longer," Teng said.

"Most people work their whole lives and still can't afford one," Vasha said.

Teng smiled faintly. "I'm no stranger to hard work; I'll do what it takes." He remembered everything they did in his village, how everyone helped each other and completed their daily tasks.

"Well, someone will explain your tasks tomorrow. We must go."

With that, the siblings closed the door behind them and left Teng all to himself. Teng sat on the "bed" and pulled out his feathers and bones from the white sack in his pack. He gazed fondly at them, then sighed and put them back. Some rest was probably a good idea.