The air was tense as the four hunters surrounded me; their spears leveled at my chest. I raised my hands slowly, palms facing outward, showing I meant no harm. My heart hammered in my chest as I scrambled to communicate, praying they’d understand my intentions if not my words.

“I am lost. I came from the sky,” I said, pointing upwards to illustrate my point. The hunters weren’t dumb, but for some reason I found myself speaking to them as if they were children – enunciating each word, using simple phrases, and exaggerating my gestures like I was playing a dangerous game of charades with my life hanging in the balance.

Their faces remained stony and unyielding; their eyes narrowed in suspicion. There wasn’t a flicker of understanding in their hard gazes. One of the hunters let out a sharp bark in their guttural, unfamiliar language. The words were harsh in my ear, and I stayed still, making no sudden movements. One of the hunters stepped forward while the rest kept their spears at the ready, their bodies tense and ready for any sign of aggression on my part.

The hunter closest to me started rifling through my belongings, deftly cutting through the vine straps that bound my rolled-up Dreadboar leather. As he sifted through my gear, the others kept up a conversation in their strange tongue, their voices a constant stream of unintelligible sounds I couldn’t make heads or tails of.

Once the closest hunter finished looking through all my stuff, the asshole – I figured that was as good a name as any for the first hunter I met – jabbed me sharply in the side, urging me to move forward. I stumbled, and the four hunters herded me in what I hoped was the direction of their village. Along the way, their voices rose in a steady chorus of derision and mockery, and they kept up what I assumed to be a litany of insults about me and the gear I had.

It was clear they saw me as a primitive outside, my makeshift tools and clothing laughable in their eyes compared to their own, more refined craftsmanship. Assholes. That’s what they all were. They were arrogant bullies who judged me based on a few days of survival in an alien forest. How could they expect me to become a master craftsman after such a short time in this world?

They kept me surrounded as we walked, taking up positions so I couldn’t escape. I noticed how they seemed to take pleasure in my struggle to navigate the uneven terrain that was littered with sticks and rocks. Their animal hide shoes provided them with protection while my feet were bare and suffered with every misstep. Sharp pains shot through my soles, making it hard to keep up with their pace. Whenever I lagged behind, the asshole would jab me again with the blunt end of his spear, shoving me forward with a sneer. They all seemed to revel in my discomfort, treating my suffering as a twisted game for their amusement.

We’d been marching for what felt like hours when the lead hunter raised his hand, signaling for us to stop. I stumbled to a halt, breathing heavily. Before I could steady myself, the asshole gave me a brutal shove, sending me sprawling to the ground. I hit the dirt hard, the impact jarring my bones and sending a wave of pain through my body. I bit back a groan, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain.

Two of the hunters remained on their feet, their bodies tense and alert, as they scanned the horizon. They exchanged hushed words, their strange language buzzing in my head. I tried to catch a hint of their conversation, but the words were still an indecipherable mess.

As I lay there, struggling to catch my breath, something unusual caught my eye. The face of one of the hunters still standing began to change. Around his eyes, an inky-black substance started to rise, forming a swirling pattern that seemed to shift and move beneath his skin. It was both mesmerizing and deeply unsettling, the dark tendrils framing his eyes in a way that made him look almost otherworldly.

At first, I thought it was some sort of tattoo or war paint I’d missed earlier. But as I looked closer, I realized the inky substance wasn’t just sitting on the surface – it was creeping out from beneath his skin, spreading across his cheekbones and forehead in a slow, deliberate crawl.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the bizarre transformation. The inky substance wasn’t just a random pattern; it seemed to pulse with a life of its own, like a living entity etched into his flesh.

We all remained frozen in place for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the hunter with the dark markings whispered something, his voice low and barely audible. Whatever he said seemed to drain the tension from the others. The asshole yanked me roughly to my feet, and we resumed our march. This time, we put on a little bit of speed. They abandoned their earlier sadistic game of guiding me through the most torturous paths, and instead were more focused on getting to where they were going as quickly as possible.

When we arrived at the tribe’s camp after another hour or two of walking, I found it to be a hive of activity.

Men, women, and children bustled about, tending to fires, weaving baskets, and repairing tools. The tribal village itself was a patchwork of makeshift shelters and scattered supplies. It was vastly different from the desolate wilderness I’d been navigating alone for the past…however long I’d been on this planet. I was split about my reaction to the whole thing. On the one hand, I’d finally found the civilization I’d been desperately searching for. On the other, it was full of assholes who had marched me here, and I could only assume they were leading me towards some kind of punishment.

The camp was a blend of the primitive and intricate. Rough shelters made of branches and leaves were mixed in among more sturdy structures that were built with intricately woven vines and decorated with colorful feathers that fluttered in the breeze. The air was filled with the smell of cooking meat, wood smoke, and sweat. The scent of different herbs and spices and flowers wafted through the air and combined with the earthy aroma of the surrounding forest.

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As I walked, I kept my head on a swivel, trying to take in all the sights. I could feel the eyes of the villagers on me – some gazing with open curiosity, some looking only for a second before turning back to their jobs, and others shooting suspicious glances my way. It probably didn’t help that I was half-naked, with only the makeshift loincloth protecting my jiggly bits.

A small stream meandered through the camp, and I noticed a few villagers knelt at its edge, washing clothes. Further downstream, a group of hunters clustered around a pile of freshly caught game, their knives flashing in the sunlight as they expertly prepared the meat for cooking.

The four hunters who had captured me led me deeper into the village, towards one of the larger structures. A wooden awning provided shade for people lounging beneath it, and as we approached, the asshole gave me a rough shove, forcing me down onto the ground. I shot him a glare, my irritation slowly bubbling to the surface, before I took a seat under the awning, my eyes darting around the village.

Despite the fact that I was clearly a prisoner, I couldn’t help but stare at the life in the village. Children darted about, their laughter ringing through the air as they played. Adults busied themselves with their daily tasks – tending fires, repairing tools, fashioning weapons. The village was alive with activity and I couldn’t help but compare it to the forest I’d been stuck in for the past few days.

My eyes were drawn to an elderly man near the awning, his imposing figure commanding respect from the nearby crowd. His long, braided beard swayed gently as he performed a ritual with a young woman, their movements synchronized in a graceful dance. The intricate blue tattoos on his arm seemed to move as he chanted softly, the patterns almost seeming to be alive. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him, even as the hunters rudely tossed my belongings to the ground and began pawing through everything again.

I watched as the hunters looked over each of my items. One of them picked up the thick hide of the Dreadboar, turning it over in his hands with a look of mild curiosity. Another hunter focused on the sharp blade of plasteel, his brow furrowed as he studied its edge, perhaps trying to comprehend the material’s origin. Even the simple piece of metal I had used to start fires and the boar tusks I’d tucked into my makeshift pack drew their attention. They spoke amongst themselves, their conversation punctuated by occasional glances in my direction, as if weighing the value of the strange items in front of them.

As they ignored me for the chance to look through my stuff, I kept up my scan of the surrounding village, trying to absorb every detail. This was the first sign of civilization I’d seen since leaving the abandoned cave complex. That place had been lifeless and…well, abandoned. The desolate cave was nothing like this lively village. But despite the differences, something gnawed at my mind. I couldn’t shake the thought that these people, whoever they were, lived awfully close to where I had found the caves. Could they be descendants of those who had once lived in the cave system?

Questions started racing through my mind: who were these people? How long had they lived here? Did they know anything about the abandoned caves? Could they have some connection to whatever had happened there?

As I looked out at the village and took a mental note of all my questions, a faint buzzing began to grow behind my eyes – a familiar and unwelcome sensation. The codex was acting up, and it was starting to piss me off. It hadn’t given me a warning when these hunters had caught me, and now that I desperately needed to think clearly to figure out an escape plan, it was flaring up and threatening me with a bout of disorientation and pain.

The pain started to amplify, growing into a relentless, throbbing migraine. Or, a swarm of bees that buzzed in my skull, making it nearly impossible to focus. Despite the pain, I strained to catch snippets of the hunters’ conversation. My thinking was that, while I wouldn’t be able to understand the words, perhaps I’d be able to pick out the intent from the four hunters.

The asshole who had first caught me seemed particularly angry about my presence in the village, his eyes glaring daggers at me whenever they met mine. He’d catch me looking and make the occasional threatening gesture, as if itching for an excuse to lash out.

As the hours dragged on, the village kept up its daily rhythms – the elderly man and young woman kept dancing, the hunters grew more and more pissed at my presence in their village, the workers all kept…working. But something strange was starting to happen. The words the tribesmen used, initially a confusing jumble, slowly began to sound a little more familiar. The codex’s buzzing gradually subsided, replaced by a growing clarity of the language that was being spoken. At first, it was just a word here and there, but soon enough, whole phrases began to form in my mind.

“He’s worthless,” the asshole was saying, his tone laced with disdain. “We should have killed him where he stood and taken his possessions. The hide, the tusks, the knife blade – they’re all valuable. But he isn’t. We should stake him out in a field and watch him die.”

“He’s nothing but a fool,” another hunter chimed in, laughing. “Probably dropped on his head too many times as a child. He’s simple.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself against the lingering pain in my head. I silently mouthed the words to myself to make sure I was getting them right, and then I spoke up. “Just because I didn’t understand your language doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. Or are you so naïve to think everyone is born speaking the same tongue?”

My words were like a shockwave that radiated from the awning. The hunters fell silent, their expressions shifting from contempt to stunned disbelief. The asshole stepped forward, his face twisted with anger, raising his hand as if to strike me. But before he could move, the elder was there.

I hadn’t even seen him approaching. At first, he was still dancing with the young woman, several feet away from the awning. Then, he was next to us. The blue tattoos that had covered his arms were the same inky-black as the hunter had earlier in the day. In a swift motion, the elder grabbed the asshole’s hand and forced him to his knees. The elder’s disapproving gaze held the other three hunters in check. Slowly, he released the asshole’s wrist and turned to me, his expression unreadable.

The moment seemed to stretch on for an hour, but eventually, the elder spoke.

“You are not from this land,” the elder said. “You have come from the sky?”

“Yes,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I am lost and seek help. I mean no harm.”

“Did someone teach you our language before you arrived?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“No.”

The elder studied me for a moment, then his gaze shifted, darkening as he turned to face the four hunters. His eyes swept over my scattered belongings that lay across the awning, and then he noted my feet, scraped and bleeding from being dragged across the rough terrain. His gaze, sharp and frosty with anger, locked onto each hunter in turn, stripping away their previous bravado.

The hunters, who had been so confident and mocking moments before, now shrank under the elder’s icy stare. Even the asshole, who had relished in my pain and suffering, averted his eyes, his earlier arrogance dissolving in the face of the elder’s seething rage.

“This one is a traveler, and you have treated him poorly,” the elder declared, his voice cutting through the silence that had descended over the awning. “You will report to the nursery tomorrow. If you cannot conduct yourselves with the wisdom and respect befitting adults, then you will be taught again alongside our youngest.”

Turning back to me, the elder’s expression softened slightly. He raised his hands, palms forward, to show he was unarmed. His left hand remained at his waist while his right moved to his face. He touched his forehead, nose, and then chin with his middle and ring finger in a deliberate motion.

“This one welcomes the traveler,” he said, his voice deep and resonant.

“Uh…what?”