The Ibex mo’huran had regrouped on the other side of the Cliff of Brun from where the Pledge Rite took place. Yuliko was the last to join up. They all looked at her bloody V-shaped cut as she approached.

“The tremor hit during my pledge,” Yuliko said, as Minty handed her a cleansing salve and linens for her wound.

“Wow, you really must be cursed,” Zana said, holding her spear like a bucket beam over her shoulders.

“Chief, are we really going to take a cursed girl on our Journey?” Pykor asked Faydayo.

Faydayo stared at Yuliko’s chest, watching the red seep through the linen. But before he could answer Krissa chimed in.

“She’s not cursed,” she said, sitting on her knees in a meditative pose. “She just has another ugly scar now.”

After everyone had the pledge cuts wrapped, Faydayo ordered the group to form up in marching order and head out. However, Krissa protested, saying she needed more time to confer with the spirits. Faydayo didn’t like that though. By the Great Journey tradition the mo’huran was obliged to depart from the lands touched by Maw’Goro’s shadow as quickly as possible after the Pledge Rite.

“Hasn’t Eshika done enough communing with the spirits for the moment?” Faydayo said. The blood from his cut had smeared over his triangle tattoo. “She already gave us our direction.”

Krissa stiffed her chin up and remained in her kneeling position. “I think the recurring earthen growls warrant more insight from the spirit realm.”

“How much more insight?” Faydayo asked.

“One cannot rush the spirits,” Krissa replied.

“How about another yanni worth of insight,” he told her. A yanni was the average length of time it took to run a type of obstacle course the Glass People build for competitions, called a yanni course.

Krissa flipped back her hair and her beads clacked together. “Two yannis.”

“One yanni. And then we’re leaving,” he said, firmly.

Yuliko stepped forward. “We should let our shaman seek out the reasons for the tremors.”

The chieftain-to-be flared his nostrils as he turned to face the interrupter. “Stay in your place, Totem-Loser.”

“Listen Faydayo,” Yuliko said. “I just think—”

“You know what I think?” he said, cutting her off. “I think maybe you are cursed and maybe you did cause the tremors.”

“No, that’s not true,” Yuliko said.

“Could be. Seems like the only real explanation we’ve got,” Faydayo said. “I do wonder if I want to have a cursed girl in my mo’huran.”

That silenced Yuliko. She lowered her head.

“What do I do with a cursed totem-loser, huh?” Faydayo continued. “Do I just send her back? Do I turn her into a thrall? Or . . . .” he slid his hand down to his sheathed war club. “I could be merciful.”

It wasn’t unheard of for a cursed person to request the mercy of death by the hands of the tribe rather than to live out a cursed existence.

Yuliko lowered herself even further to the group leader. But then Kardan stepped forward. “If Yuliko isn’t a part of this mo’huran then I won’t be either. She and I will find another clan.”

Faydayo snapped his attention to the new troublemaker. Yuliko thought she could read the thoughts in Faydayos expression. He could easily be rid of his most disliked members of the clan. But then his mo’huran would lose the manpower, including a highly skilled knapper. “No other clan would take the Totem-Loser,” he said.

“Then, I don’t know, we’ll live on our own, like woods witches,” Kardan answered.

Living in the wilderness on one's own, without the protection and economy of the clan, was a rough and dangerous life. Only a rare few folks can survive long living that way. And those that can survive on their own most often have magical powers to aid them. It was a silly thing to say, but Yuliko was touched that Kardan would stand up for her so boldly.

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Faydayo told Kardan.

Then to an even greater surprise, Minty stood up shyly, and in a meek voice she added, “I’ll go too.”

Faydayo turned to her now. “What?”

“I’ll go too if you kick out Yuliko,” Minty said, raising her voice just a tad louder.

Yuliko’s heart swelled at the steadfastness of her friends.

Faydayo’s face reddened. Losing the party healer would be a detrimental blow to his mo’huran. And the three rebels would have a better chance of joining another clan if they brought with them a healer and knappers. It would also be a major embarrassment for Faydayo to lose three mo’huran members right at the start of their Great Journey.

He huffed and raised his hand away from his war club. “Alright. Enough of this. Nobody is leaving the mo’huran.” He spoke as if the concession was a command instead. Then without waiting for a reply he turned back to Krissa. “One yanni.”

After the allotted time had passed, the shaman-to-be was no closer to answering the mystery of the tremors. Though, she got into her marching order anyway, right behind Faydayo. Then, by rights the healer should be next, but Faydayo moved Minty to the back end with Kardan and Yuliko.

“If you want to buddy up with those two, then you can have a low status like them,” Faydayo told her.

Tension hung over the mo’huran as they began their march. Even from the very back and only able to see the back of his head, Yuliko could feel the anger radiating off of their leader. She had not meant to cause a stir. She had to be more cautious with Faydayo, she realized. He was volatile, and even though it meant much to her that her friends stood at her side, Yuliko did not wish to risk Kardan and Minty’s Journeys.

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After a short while of marching, Kardan said to her, “Hey, your scar won’t be ugly, by the way. It’ll be unique. Like you.”

That eased the tension for her and she smiled. She thought of the heart token he made for her, packed away in her bag. It had been foolish of him to make it and hurt himself, but it was also sweet.

Though they were officially on their Great Journey, it would still be two days of hiking before they were even outside of Black Glass territory. The rainforest that surrounds Maw’Goro is as vast as it is bountiful, with enough space and resources to fruitfully supply the five clans. The rainforest was rich with strong pappo wood, pliable yungit wood, rubber trees; many many fruits, berries, and nuts; plentiful game; soil for planting with hefty yields of grains and oats; clays for pottery; limestone, granite, jasper and other stones for masonry; and of course, much obsidian. Everything the Glass People needed. That is, as long as the balance is maintained. Over-using the land and destroying the ecosystem would weaken the great spirit, and then monsters would be able to savage their domain.

Yuliko wondered about the High Chieftain Vogon’s planting spots. She had been told they had dug up half the trees and bushes in those acreages. Though it did produce more food for his big clan. Yuliko hadn’t been trained to understand the wisdom of the spirits, like Eshika and Krissa, but she didn’t think the planting spots were wholly in alignment with Maw’Goro’s balance.

As they walked, she made a conscious effort to take in all the sights and sounds around her. Yuliko could easily identify almost all of them, having lived off their bounties all her life. She noticed the different shades of leaves, bark, and flowers. The birds chirping. The rodents scurrying through the foliage. This would be the last she would see of her home for a long while.

Though Yuliko’s knowledge of the plantlife was significant, she was thoroughly out beat by Minty, who knew every plant and all their uses. She even foraged from several bushes as she passed by, saving them to dry out and add to her medicine pouch.

“Oooh, needra flower,” Minty said as she plucked a sprig of star-shaped yellow flowers. Then to nobody in particular, she said, “This is good for fevers.” She did not seem much bothered to have her status lowered, and in fact, was more comfortable being closer to her friends.

Yuliko was familiar with needra flower. She had drunk many bitter cups of needra tea after her antler wound had turned to fever. She hoped she would never have to taste the stuff again.

The northward trail traveled over steep hilly terrain. Faydayo intended to lead the mo’huran to the northern border marker. Each direction had a monument erected by the ancient Black Glass People to mark the rough boundaries of their territory. Once, one of Yuliko’s hunting parties had traveled to the very edge of the western end, and she had spied upon a pillar of circular shaped obsidian blocks stacked taller than a person with their arms stretched up. It would have taken ages to carve the blocks and to haul over the obsidian from Maw’Goro’s yard, not to mention the work it would take to stack them. The border markers had all been built so long ago, nobody remembered who had constructed the hulking monuments. Some say the border markers are even older than Brun.

But they would not reach the border marker tonight. So an hour before nightfall, Faydayo halted their trek at the top of the hill with covering from some oversized mammoth ear ferns. They set about making a minimalist camp, for they would depart again before the sunrise. Canvas tarps were strung up to sleep under and wood was gathered for a fire. They would need to keep a fire burning all night out in the wilderness. The forest prowled with wolves and bears and jungle cats.

For dinner they had dried salt beef. The only food they had packed was dried salt beef. It was light and would last a long time without spoiling. Yuliko thought the beef strips tasted alright, but they were far too hard, like chewing on bark. Thankfully, there was nearby fruit to collect and Yuliko filled up on mangos.

Pykor played his bone flute as they sat around the campfire. Yuliko noticed that Zana sat so she was nearly touching knees with Pykor, and she was complimenting his every song. Of course, Krissa and Faydayo were sitting together. Faydayo watched the fire intently while Krissa mused over how the tremors can only mean that this Journey was special, though she didn’t know exactly how.

The rebels sat in their own huddled group around the fire.

“Why do you think Eshika chose to send us north?” Kardan asked.

“Oh, I wish she hadn’t sent us this way,” Minty whined. “They say the northlands are haunted by dead vow breakers.”

“They say that only about the White Wasteland,” Yuliko said. “There is much land between here and there.”

“They also say there’s a wolf pack that isn’t afraid of man kin to the north,” Minty said. Yuliko was sure knew rumors of dangers in every direction. “And there’s hobs lurking that way too.”

“We can handle wolves and hobs,” Yuliko said, putting her hand to Minty’s shoulder.

“Still, I would have rather we were sent east,” Minty said. “I would like to see the giant scalewings.”

Common scalewings were plentiful in the rainforest, some as big as a plate. The scales of their wings come in all manner of colors and patterns. But they say that eastern tribes ride scalewings the size of an aurochs, and the tribes use them to travel up impassable mountains and to raid each other's villages.

“But is it a coincidence she sent us in the same direction the flatheads were fleeing from?” Kardan asked.

Yuliko didn’t think so. She thought over everything she had heard about the White Wasteland. The tales told of a once prosperous tribe who lived alongside the white bears, who were not like animals, but were a thinking species, like man kin. Over time the man kin tore up the land more and more to build their big villages. This enraged the spirits of the land, who wished to slay all the man kin in a great disaster, but forstalled because they did not want to hurt the reverent white bears. They great spirits waited until the white bears had built a bridge to new land where they could thrive. As soon as the last bear had crossed the bridge to their new land, the great spirits struck the earth with equal might to all the destruction the man kin had wrought on the earth, corrupting the land so that its bounties would not grow. Its trees turned to stone so they would have no wood. And the people turned to ghouls to haunt the waste.

“The White Wasteland and the great fire,” Minty said. “What sort of tribute are we supposed to find in such places?”

Their chat was cut short by Fayday standing up, still staring at the fire, his the bands across his triangle tattoo flickered in the light. “I must speak,” he said. Then he looked upon the men and women of his company. “Our shaman says that this Journey is a special Journey. If that is true, then our mission shall be more challenging than any of us expect. The outset of our Journey has already had many irregularities, but I am telling you all now that going forward we shall act as a traditional mo’huran. That means my commands shall not be questioned. My word is law as Maw’Goro’s hand in the far lands. Is that understood?”

Immediately Zana, Pykor, and Krissa all pounded their chests with their fists and shouted, “Hyah!” Faydayo looked to the rebels. He zeroed in on Yuliko, burrowing his golden-brown eyes into her. She pounded her chest. “Hyah!” Kardan and Minty followed.

“If we are to fulfill this special purpose, then my commands shall be obeyed, word for word. Understood?” Faydayo said.

In unison, all the members of his mo’huran slapped their chests. “Hyah!” They cried.

“Our goal is unclear as of yet, as is the start of all Great Journeys. Though Krissa says the great spirit will demand much of us in order to accomplish our ultimate task. I intend to complete that task. And I intend for all of us to survive when we do it. From this moment onward. Your lives are mine. I shall lead us to success and show that we are worthy.”

Yuliko stood up and hammered her chest. “Hyah!” All the others rose after her, they thudded all their chests simultaneously. “Hyah!”

“I shall lead us to the greatest tribute Maw’Goro has seen since Brun himself offered up the bones of the twin dragons!” Faydayo declared.

“HYAH!”

“That is why the earth trembles, it is bending to this mo’huran as the marble bent for Brun!” Faydayo shouted.

“HYAH!”

“We shall find this great tribute, even if we must venture all the way to the White Wasteland and beyond!”

“HYAH! HYAH! HYAH!”