Morning in the village was a quiet thing. People woke in drips and drabs and went about their early morning business quietly so others could sleep. When I woke, I decided to let my curiosity guide me through the village. I set off from my small hut and put one foot in front of the other as I strolled through the winding paths between the huts.

The sound of laughter caught my attention, and I followed it until I found myself in an open clearing on the outskirts of the village. The group of children playing there noticed me almost immediately, their eyes going wide with curiosity and excitement. In no time at all, they swarmed me and began chattering all at once.

“Where are you from?”

“Why were you half-naked when you came to the village?”

“What are all those bruises and cuts on your body?”

Their questions morphed into a rapid, jumbled stream, and I could barely get out an answer to one before another came rushing my way. One of the boys, who seemed bored with all the questions, flashed me a mischievous smile.

“Traveler! Come play!” he called out.

The children all cheered and quickly got down to the serious business of explaining the rules to their game. It was a chaotic blend of tag and hide-and-seek, with a few twists that seemed to have been either added over time or invented on the spot. They all spoke quickly, their explanations tumbling over one another, and soon my head was spinning with all the conflicting directions.

When the game began, I felt like a giant among the small, nimble figures darting around me. It didn’t take long before I forgot a rule and made a mistake, earning peals of laughter from all the children. I stumbled through the rest of the game, barely able to keep up, entertaining all the kids with my seemingly limitless ability to flub some arcane rule they’d just invented but claimed was a serious long-standing law.

By the time the game was over, I was out of breath and drenched with sweat but grinning from ear to ear. It was nice, not having to constantly fight for survival every minute of the day. For a brief moment, I wasn’t a traveler lost on an alien world. I was just another person, playing in the sun.

All the children eventually scampered off, either running to finish their chores or to dive into another adventure or to do whatever it is that kids do in a village like this one. I found myself wandering back to the village where the smell of cooking greeted me.

I offered to help, and the villagers took me up on it with good-natured smiles. They probably saw me more as a novelty than as a competent helper. They treated me like you would a child – given small jobs that didn’t take much skill, and when I finished them, they cooed over my work. One of the villagers handed me a small knife and gestured towards a pile of colorful vegetables and fruits. I set to work, carefully slicing and chopping under the eyes of all the rest of the villagers.

As I worked, the villagers chatted amongst themselves, their conversations easily flowing from one topic to another. Occasionally, someone would try and pull me into the conversation by asking questions about where I planned to go next or they’d explain the dishes they were preparing.

After lunch, the village settled into a peaceful lull. The children all napped in the shade and the adults turned to their hobbies or other small tasks. I slowly drifted towards the elder’s hut when I noticed him working with the young woman from yesterday. I think she was his assistant.

They were in the middle of something that looked like a dance, their movements slow and deliberate. I watched from a distance at first, not wanting to intrude, but soon noticed a few other villagers had gathered nearby, taking seats in the awning and watching the elder and his apprentice. Taking that as a sign, I moved closer, finding a spot on the ground near the awning where I could watch without disturbing them.

The elder’s movements were fluid and seemingly effortless. Despite being much older than his apprentice, I noticed his movements were precise in a way hers weren’t. He had a practiced grace that seemed to make the dance almost easy. His assistant, on the other hand, was slightly more hesitant in her movements. She followed his lead, but there was an uncertainty there, as if she were still learning and didn’t completely trust herself with the steps.

As I watched them, something caught my eye. It was a faint, inky blackness moving just beneath the surface of her skin that reminded me of the death echoes that the elder spoke about. I blinked and focused on them and saw the dark tendrils, like veins, moving under the apprentice’s skin. They wound their way through her limbs, stretching and growing with each movement she made, as if they were responding to the dance.

The elder moved alongside her, guiding her with a steady hand, and I noticed the same inky black lines course through him as well. They pulsed in time with his movements, flowing down into his hands and then up to his arms.

I watched as they danced together, and as they danced, the inky substance within the assistant slowly grew more pronounced. It shifted from her arms to her torso, and then down to her legs. Every time the tendrils moved to a different part of her body, that area seemed to quicken and strengthen, and her movements became more precise and controlled.

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When the dance finally came to an end, the elder turned to me with a gentle smile. His assistant, now breathing a little heavier from all the exertion, offered me a shy nod before stepping away.

“This is how we teach the next generation,” he explained. “The dance helps them to connect with the echoes. They learn control and how to strengthen and harness them. Eventually, they pass on the echoes to our hunters who carry those lessons into the field.”

&&&&

I was jolted awake by a hand gently shaking my shoulder. It was still dark outside, and the early morning air was cool and damp and made me want to burrow deeper into my borrowed blanket. For a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was. The haze of sleep made everything fuzzy. But then a low voice broke through the fog.

“Time to get up, traveler.”

I blinked my eyes open to see a man standing over me. He wasn’t one of the four hunters who’d dragged me back to the village. This hunter was calm and his face unreadable as he watched me struggle awake. I rubbed my eyes and pushed myself up from the simple straw mat that served as my bed, shaking off the chill of the morning air.

“The elder is waiting at the entrance. Everyone is.”

The words snapped me fully awake. I pulled myself together and followed the hunter out into the predawn darkness. I knew I was leaving the village today, but I thought I’d have a little more time to get ready. The village was quiet with the only sounds coming from the occasional rustle of wind through the trees and the soft murmur of voices up ahead.

As we neared the entrance, I noticed a small gathering of villagers. They were all standing quietly, their faces warm with smiles as they chatted in hushed tones so as not to wake the rest of the village. The elder stood at the front of his group and watched me as I approached. Without a word, he stepped forward and gestured me off to the side.

“These belong to you,” he said softly, handing me a bundle wrapped in a piece of cloth.

I took it from him and unfolded it. Inside were all my belongings – or at least, what was left of them – from when I first came to the village.

The first thing I noticed was the hide of the Dreadboar had been transformed into a satchel. It was so much better than what I could have made with my simple skills. When I lifted the flap, I saw that the satchel was packed with a few essentials: some dried rations, a waterskin, and a couple tools. Stuffed into a side pocket was a pair of moccasin-like shoes, also made from the Dreadboar hide. I slipped them on, and they immediately seemed to mold to my feet. For the first time since I got to the planet, I wouldn’t have to worry about cutting up my soles on rough terrain anymore.

Next, the elder handed me another set of clothes, identical to what I was already wearing – hemp pants and a shirt. The material was light and breathable and clearly more suited to the climate than the ragged half-loincloth I’d been wearing when I first stumbled into the village. I quickly folded the clothes and tucked them into the satchel before slinging it over my shoulder.

But the elder wasn’t finished. With a motion, he reached behind his back and pulled out one final gift. When he held it up for me to see, a familiar buzzing sensation tickled the back of my mind, and black letters splashed across my vision.

[Traveler’s Seax]

A finely crafted utility blade that blends ancient traditions with advanced technology. Fashioned by the skilled artisans of the Agawo tribe, this large knife was forged from plasteel material salvaged by the traveler from a long-abandoned ruin. The plasteel allows the blade to maintain its razor-sharp edge far longer than conventional metals, making it an invaluable tool for survival. The knife’s hilt comes from the tusk of a Dreadboar. Accompanying the seax is a handcrafted sheath made from the hide of that same boar; an apex predator that stalks the Agawo lands.

“This will serve you well on your journey,” said the elder.

I nodded, too moved to say much. The seax, the clothes, the satchel, it was all a little much. I’d only stayed with them a short while, but they were gifting me things that could save my life when I finally got back to my travels.

The elder gave me a final, approving nod, and then we walked back to the gathered villagers. The faces of the villagers were a mix of pride and concern. It was clear they took pride in their family members venturing beyond the safety of the village. But there was no mistaking the worry in their eyes. They knew that any trip outside the village could potentially be their last.

The elder stepped over to his assistant who was standing a little apart from the other hunters. She looked strained and nervous as she gripped the gear she’d slung over her shoulder. The elder wandered over and began speaking in a low, reassuring voice, his hand resting on her shoulder as he gave her what looked like last-minute advice. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I watched as she nodded along and set her jaw in a determined line.

As I stood there, I took a moment to study all the hunters who’d be joining us on our trip. They all seemed calm and composed as they said their goodbyes to their families. It felt like this was a natural thing for them; more akin to hugging family before going off to work than marching into battle or anything. Slowly, the hunters all wrapped up their goodbyes and gathered together a little distance away from the rest of the villagers.

When the elder finished speaking with his apprentice, he turned to me. “The place you’re going to is where the last sky-fallen to visit this valley lies. He wasn’t a traveler like you. When you see him, you’ll understand. And when you do, the apprentice will explain the difference.”

“And what then?” I asked.

“Then? They will guide you to the old men. You’ll have to pass through the territories of several clans of the Agawo. Some of the people aren’t known for their hospitality, but as long as you explain that you are headed towards the old men, you should be given free passage.” The elder patted me on the shoulder and smiled. “Do not worry. The journey to the old men is something greater than any one clan’s disputes. It is a pilgrimage, and the way will be open to you as long as you state your purpose. None of the Agawo would harm a traveler, doubly so one on a journey to the old men.”

I nodded and my gaze shifted over to the apprentice. She was still standing where the elder had left her, but now I noticed a slight tremor in her hands that she was trying to hid as she clutched her gear close. This was probably her first time leaving the village by herself. The elder followed my gaze and smiled gently. “This is a test for her,” he explained. “She’s gone out with hunting groups before, but always with another apprentice. Never alone. The hunters are there to protect her, but they also need to see her as capable.”

No one spoke as we left the village, stepping into the darkness beyond. I felt a presence at my side and turned to see the apprentice walking beside me. She looked at me and then held a hand to her chest and mumbled in a voice barely more than a whisper, “Zypha.”

I kept my own voice quiet, more because it felt wrong to speak louder as we were all silently making our way forward. “Oh…uh, pleasure to meet you. I don’t…I don’t know my name.”

She jerked her head back in surprise for a moment before smiling and saying a single word. “Traveler.”

The hunters spread out around us, their forms blending into the darkness as they moved with a practiced ease. Each of them had to have had hundreds of trips out into the wilds, and it was obvious when they each took up a position and created a protective perimeter around Zypha and myself as we walked. None of them needed to speak to the others to coordinate their movements and they slowly formed around us.

The apprentice and I fell into step with each other, our pace matching naturally. The night was deep and quiet, the sky above us a dark canvas scattered with stars. And there was a stillness to the world, as if it were holding its breath, waiting for us to take the next step.