Leif walked down the path that led out of the valley and towards the edge of the shell where Denali's head was. He hoped no one saw him, mostly because he did not want any more sympathy from anyone but, he also knew people did not like it when others bothered Denali even though he never reacted to anyone that talked to him.

As he reached the outskirts of his village there was an old sign that was worn down. He knew that the sign contained the name of his village on the opposite side of him, The Vale.

Whoever came up with the name was not very creative since The Vale was short for The Valley. The Vale wasn't even the only village located in a valley, there were hundreds of them on Denali. From what Leif was told The Vale was one of the original places his tribe lived, and many thought it would stay as one of the main villages because of how close it was to Denali's head, but as larger valleys with more abundant resources were discovered people started moving farther away.

Once past the sign, Leif could see down the path and where it ended just a little before the edge of the shell. He could also hear one of his favorite sounds ever, the waves crashing against the bottom of Denali's shell. He could sit and listen to that sound for hours, but he was here for other reasons.

As he approached the edge of the shell he could barely make out the outline of Denali’s head in the darkness. It was arrow-shaped with some rocklike protrusions sticking out along his neck.

Leif sat on the edge of the shell and just stared out into the horizon for a while before whispering, “Why Denali?”

He did not expect to get a reply and those expectations were met, “I know you probably can not hear me or choose to ignore me but why must we go through this, I thought you were supposed to be our protector.”

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He once again did not receive a reply, “I know some believe it is a price we must pay, a trial of the tribes, but I am not ready. We weren’t even allowed to get information or training ahead of time. How is that fair? Are most of us just meant to go there and die? How am I going to keep my friends safe? How am I going to keep myself safe?”

Leif began to weep and shout, “Why Denali Why! What is the point of all of this? Are we just here to die for your amusement? If so, then why not just end me now!”

There was nothing except the sounds of cries for a few moments. Out of nowhere, there was the sound of something lifting out of the water. Leif stopped crying and looked on in fear as Denali lifted his head and turned it back so he could stare directly at Leif.

Leif readjusted himself so he was on his knees and bowed his head, “Please forgive me Denali, I did not mean what I said. Please if you have to punish anyone punish me and spare my tribe from my words, they were my own and a mistake.”

He heard nothing, but he suddenly felt hot air running down his entire body. He did not dare look up and stayed like that for a while, feeling the hot air hit him in a continuous rhythm.

When Leif finally dared to look up he saw Denali's head inches from him. He knew he was going to die and how embarrassing it would be. The tales told about him would be warnings about not yelling at a Tide Walker or they would eat you, the boy who wept for death and received it.

To Leif's surprise, this did not happen, instead, Denali moved his head forward bumping it into Leif's head.

If anyone had been watching all they would have seen when their heads touched was a bright light, Leif falling over, and Denali returning his head to the water.

For Leif the experience was different. He felt their heads bump then a series of images appeared in his head before blacking out. The images Leif remembered seeing were water engulfing Folke, a giant white monkey with a pink face sitting in some water reaching its hand out towards him, and the ground soaked in blood.