The settlement was small, just a few round houses insulated with deer skins and about twenty people. As Motso and Ötzi came closer, two guards came out, dressed in heavy clothing – kukhlyanka, which is very similar to the one Ötzi was wearing, as well as wide fur trousers that fit tightly into the fur boots. One had several rings inserted in his nose, the other in his lower lip. Both had a circle tattooed near their mouths. From their eyes and shabby appearance, it was possible to assume that they did not stay in one place for a long time. They held spears in their hands.

"How did they get my javelin-spears?" Motso asked in surprise.

"I guess you’re not the only one who thought of that," Ötzi said with a grin.

The girls walked behind the guards as if nothing had happened, but when they saw the two intruders, they immediately disappeared from the sight. The entrance to the houses were decorated with the heads of ravens. Motso had time to examine several people and noticed that each one of them wore a bunch of different amulets on their hands or necks, shaped like walrus or dog heads.

Motso pointed the black sphere that was making a hum at his palm, so that he could translate what was being said. Only the guards were in no hurry to say anything, their eyes moving steadily along the trajectory of the sphere, which they probably took for something unearthly, magical, maybe even divine. The two friends came within a meter of them. The guards tensed, became agitated, and held their spears out, then finally spoke:

"Who are you?"

"Travelers."

"What do you want?"

"We don't need anything, we're here to help you."

"Us?"

"Yes. We’ve created a big city, equipped it, but we can't find any residents. We would like to invite you there and create a great kingdom together!"

But the men just laughed. They stopped worrying, mistaking these strangers for some eccentrics. Then came a man dressed in a cloak made of various animal skins, with numerous pendants and a fancy headdress. He waved his hand and reassured the soldiers, saying that these people are the owners of that part of the world that is beyond the control of even the most sophisticated person and it is sinful to laugh at them. Whoever these men are, they should be received with all the hospitality.

They went into the cone-shaped house, which the locals called "yaranga" and inside they only saw a kind of bed made of grass. A man named the village shaman asked to bring two wooden chairs to the guests. When Motso and Ötzi sat down, the shaman began to speak directly:

"What is your name, child?" he asked, looking at Ötzi.

"Ötzi."

"Your cloths have the mark of a certain tribe. I noticed it right away. Its history has reached our distant lands. I would like to…"

"Don’t. The past should stay in the past. And here we are on a different matter."

Motso sat down next to his friend and whispered in his ear:

"Do you know their language?"

Ötzi nodded. The shaman turned to Motso and asked:

"Where are you from? What's that flying around you?"

"I'm from another planet, but this flying thing is a miniature version of a celestial body."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"That's what I thought.... so, you were able to touch the heavens at night? And teared off a piece."

Motso looked at Ötzi, who explained to him that many peoples, like himself, before meeting him, believe that the sky is solid, and the light it emits are holes.

"Well, in that case, you could say that."

"So who are you?"

"I'm a guy who wants to make this world a better place."

"His name is Motso."

"And what Motso wants from us."

"We created a small kingdom a week away from here, and now we are looking for people who would be willing to live with us. And we, in turn, will help them with food, and give them a warm shelter over their heads."

The shaman pondered; took a deep breath. Then he pulled out a pipe from his bosom, poured some tobacco into the chamber, lit it, and started to smoke. Then he asked again in a rough and serious voice:

"You aren’t a simple man. Who are you really?"

Motso thought for a moment, then looked at Ötzi, but he did nothing. Summoning his will, he said that he was something like what people on this planet call Gods. But the shaman said that the Gods have power over nature and fate itself. They can resurrect a person and they can just as easily kill a person. Then he got up and took a knife from behind his back, pointed it at Motso, and said in all seriousness:

"If you are, who you said you are, why did you take my three-year-old son's life twice?"

But at last Ötzi stepped in and said that they were not subject to the laws of life and death. They can't control the destinies of all people, but he can swear that the people who are willing to be near them, they can protect.

"These are serious words! Even someone who could split off a part of the sky would hardly be able to resist even a hundred warriors."

"That's a matter of opinion," Motso said, grinning. "I know a little about the art of war, but I don't want to kill anyone. Especially with the only purpose to prove something."

"We're not murderers," Ötzi added.

The shaman only uttered the phrase: "That is until fate decides otherwise" and again thought, lowered the knife, sat down and lit the pipe again. He smoked for a long time, constantly smacking his lips with each puff. When he had finished smoking, he put the tobacco back in the cell and politely handed it to the guests. They waved their heads from side to side, and politely declined the offer.

"Several years in a row, a killer whale swam to our seashore. We entertained her, sang songs, arranged dances, then the "chosen one" caught her and killed her. But she was our guest, and we couldn't disrespect her. We didn't break her bones, didn't mutilate her body, just took her meat, which was enough for the whole winter. In December, we would send the killer whale back to the sea, and every summer it would resurrect and come back to us again. Only this time it didn't. I'm concerned that we have nothing to eat. All the animals have gone far to the West, and we cannot defend ourselves from enemies and at the same time engage in hunting. There are too few of us."

"Who is the chosen one?"

"My son. Only he is allowed to defeat the killer whale."

"Well, of course," Motso said softly, almost to himself, and immediately felt Ötzi hit him on the leg.

"So why don't you come with us?"

"A week's journey? I’m afraid we won’t survive even three days!"

"I can move you there."

"Move us?"

"Yes, I mean teleportation. One moment you're here, the next you're in our kingdom."

The shaman didn't know how to react and started quickly inhaling and exhaling tobacco smoke again.

"It doesn't seem dangerous," Ötzi added. "We are first torn into many pieces, and then put back together."

Motso turned in half a turn to his friend and his eyes opened so wide that they almost feel out of their sockets resembling the letter "O", and began to blink very often.

"You better go, before things will get ugly. I can't believe you."

"I can prove it!"

But the shaman got up, pulled out his knife again, and called the guards. They ran headlong into the house and pointed their spears into the backs of their guests.

Motto and Ötzi decided not to aggravate the situation, bowed and walked out of the yaranga.

"Damn it, why did you say that they will break into many pieces, huh? Did you stop being friends with your head at one point?"

"But I told them the truth."

"That's not true! Well, more precisely... not quite so. It's more complicated, you know?"

"No. I don’t."

"An you also hit the leg."

They went outside the settlement. Motso exhaled deeply and pointedly. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and watched the foaming waves crash into the sandy beach, watched the sky turn gray and the sun sunk below the horizon. It was getting cold. The frosty wind cut through their frail bodies.

"Time to get back," Motso said.

But suddenly he heard a sound that broke the silence, and an arrow fell near his foot, then another. He jumped back and first heard the trampling of a horse squad, then shouts and screams, and a little later, from the southern side of the settlement, in the fog, the friends saw about a hundred mad warriors rushing to raid this place.