Cheep-Cheep found himself nervous as he moved through the camp after coming down from the Dunn-Junn. The things he had faced and the Experience he had received in return had him quivering with excitment. His nervousness had come from the Lifewords that had flashed across his vision after leaving. F(4)...He had the ability to ascend to F(4) and not through some horrible quest either like the chief.

No. All he had to do was run the Dunn-Junn again and hunt the third room they had found. Alone. And that seemed plenty dangerous to him. But the danger wasn’t only in the Dunn-Junn. If the chief knew how much Experience he had gained inside the tunnels of stone above, then he would be forced to stop, perhaps even killed. It was the way of the tribe and Cheep-Cheep knew it from experience. His brother had attempted to breach F(4) without the chief’s blessing and had never returned from his journey.

The chief had said he had failed or run off in defeat but Cheep-Cheep knew the truth. The chief had sent two of his hunters after Cheep-Cheep’s brother. They had come back with bloodied speartips. So Cheep-Cheep had bided his time and now had an opportunity greater than any other. The tribe had no seer, one who could read the Lifewords of another. The last one had died some time ago and the chief’s brutality had kept another from rising.

Now that brutality would fail him. Cheep-Cheep and his new friends had already agreed to keep the Dunn-Junn a secret and if asked would say the green one had them helping his daughter with something. It was the truth. Cheep-Cheep didn’t know exactly what they were doing to help but the green one had seemed immensely pleased when they had left. If he played along with the chief long enough then soon he and his group of outcasts would be free.

Cheep-Cheep was brought out of his musings by a paw which brought him up short. He followed the path of the arm stopping him until it came to rest on an unpleasant face. Deek Longtooth, the chief’s son and one of the hunters who he suspected had killed his brother, looked down at him with a sneer on his furry face.

“The chief want talk. You come.” It wasn’t a question but an order and Cheep-Cheep kept his emotions carefully bottled up as he nodded. There would come a day to release his anger but it wasn’t now. That would come later when he was stronger. So he bowed his head and followed Deek as he led the way to the chief’s burrow. It was the largest, in the best spot, and the one the tribe had dug first since arriving at the green one’s bluff.

Upon entering Cheep-Cheep was greeted by the smell of fresh meat. A rabbit had been caught and of course, the chief had demanded it as his portion of the day’s hunt. Cheep-Cheep bowed his head as was proper though the action burned him inside. “Chief Longtooth call, Cheep-Cheep answers.”

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The chief didn’t answer for a long time, forcing Cheep-Cheep to keep his posture of servitude until he did so. Eventually, the sound of chewing stopped and the chief’s arrogant voice filled the room.

“The green one call you. You go. Come back. What you do for green one?”

Cheep-Cheep let nothing show on his face as he rose. This too he had prepared for with his group. “Test shrooms for green one.” He shuddered dramatically as if remembering. “Others not bad but green one fed me nasty shroom. Made Cheep-Cheep see strange things. Make Cheep-Cheep sick.”

Chief Longtooth cackled at his words with his son following suit. It was what they wanted to hear. It was Cheep-Cheep’s reward for warning his chief to not try and fight the green one, something that would have resulted in his death. Once again, Cheep-Cheep reprimanded himself for not letting it happen but he had been afraid of the green one’s retaliation upon the Muskeera as a whole. He had no wish to die for his chief’s stupid decisions.

In all other ways, Chief Longtooth was a fine chief but when it came to his ego and pride he brooked no sign of weakness or diminishment. Cheep-Cheep’s tale had done its job and the chief let him go with another cackle, safe in the knowledge that he had forced a proper punishment upon the young Muskeera for speaking out of place.

Cheep-Cheep left gratefully the embers of revenge in his heart smoldering gently. There would come a time for igniting them but that time wasn’t now. When he went to sleep that night his dreams were filled with sparkling caves and the rush of battle.

POV Radiant Rangers

Contrary to their name, The Radiant Rangers were as dour a group of men as could be seen. Rough and ready, with nary a clean shaven face among them, they were the premier scouting group for the Church of the Sun’s Northeastern Branch. They were three days into their journey North when their youngest member halted midstride.

“What is it Gerald?” asked one of the more senior members, Askar.

“Not sure. I felt something shift in the threads.” The rest of the group paused at that, unwilling to overlook the man’s words simply because he was young. In their group, age was but a number. Skill and skill alone was the only reason someone was accepted into their ranks. Skill meant dedication, talent, or experience, and the group was overflowing with all three.

Gerald was the youngest but had a peculiar talent, something he was born with. The ability to sense what he called threads. In the beginning, a lot of the men had grumbled superstitiously claiming it was fate magic of some kind. When the priests found out Gerald’s talent coincided with the cycles of the Sun Engine, the grumblings died out quickly. He was now accorded a good deal of respect from the rough crew around him.

“Can you find the place? It could be what we are looking for.” The one who spoke was Desmond, the scout leader and de facto leader of their group whenever there were orders to be taken or people to be talked to. He had that kind of personality and was generally the cleanest of the group at any single point in time.

“Aye, I believe I have it,” Gerald said with a grimace. He took the lead like a bloodhound and group sped off toward the Northeast, their Rank D bodies propelling them further and faster than any mundane form of transportation. Their skills and talents in woodcraft blended together to transform the group into a single moving organism that sped onward following the shifting of the threads.