Yuliko stood with the death horn in hand, the heavy end on the ground. Reluctantly, the two mo’hurans lowered their weapons and disengaged from their fight. Faydayo and Sarkola both scrambled up from the ground, casting hateful looks at each other as they brushed themselves off.

“What did you see?” Faydayo asked.

“I don’t know. A figure in the distance, like they were watching and then moved to a hiding place,” Yuliko said.

“I saw them also, but it was two figures,” Minty added.

“Me as well. Two figures,” the Razor Boar girl with the bowlcut said.

“The Ibexes are trying to trick us now,” Sarkola snarled.

Another Razor Boar spoke up, a skinny boy with an obsidian crescent necklace. “Uma and I both saw it, Sarkola. The Totem-Loser speaks true.”

Faydayo pounded his fist to his chest. “Hyah! Ibexes, form up. We shall take these intruders.”

“Razor Boars, form up,” Sarkola said immediately after Faydayo. “We shall take them first. Whoop! Whoop!”

The Ibexes and the Boars all reassembled into their respective groups. The Ibexes gathered around where Krissa sat, her expression airy and glazed.

“She has a concussion,” Yuliko said. “One person is already hurt, let’s not do anything stupid, Faydayo.”

“You and Minty stay with her,” Faydayo said, then he waved to the rest of the group to head out.

The Razor Boars also left their healer, Uma, behind to take care of the burly man, whom Zana had hurt pretty good during the fight.

Faydayo led headlong towards the point in the horizon where the figure had been seen, followed by Zana and Pykor and Kardan in the rear.

As Kardan passed by Yuliko he said, “You’re not really going to stay here, are you?”

“Ashes to that,” she answered and followed him at the tail of the group.

“That was good thinking, making yourself a blowing horn,” Kardan told her as they ran.

“Thanks,” she said, bashfully.

The Ibexes raced across the lava yard, keeping pace with the Razor Boars despite the Boars having moccasins while they did not. They came to a rockledge made of tiered steps. Both mo’hurans hopped up eagerly trying to get ahead of the other, even though the smart thing to do would have been to move slowly and spy over the ledge. But, boldly with abandon, Faydayo and Sarkola jumped up to the top of the ledge with their mo’hurans right behind them.

“WHOOP! WHOOP!” The Razor Boars yelled!

“HYAH! HYAH!” The Ibexes called out.

The youths crowded round the intruders, waving their clubs and spears. “Surrender or die!” Faydayo and Sarkola’s voices rang.

Yuliko was the last Ibex to climb up. When she did get across she found all the Glass People who had just been fighting were now working together to pin in the new opponents. She pushed her way through the circle beside Kardan and saw three travel-weary flatheads who had already laid down their spears.

The flatheads were shorter than man kin, with broad bodies, and were so named for their flat faces. Flatheads are known to be strong, stronger than man kin, some say. But these flatheads looked scrawny and malnourished. There was one man and two women. It was hard for Yuliko to tell their age, they might have been about their own ages, but their pale bodies and hardened faces made them appear old and withered. Their spears were quickly snatched away.

“On your knees!” Sarkola shouted, then he kicked the man in the rear to drive home his point.

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The flatheads had their arms outstretched to show they meant no harm, but they did not drop to their knees.

“I said down on your knees!” Sarkola said, then he kicked the flathead again.

“They don’t understand you, dungball!” Kardan shouted.

“Oh, they understand,” Sarkola said, then he grabbed the flathead by the shoulder and forced him down. The two women flatheads followed and dropped to their knees. “See. Any dumb animal understands simple commands.”

It was plain to Yuliko that the flatheads were not animals. Just like the flathead woman with the seashell necklace she had seen so long ago, she could read the expressions on these flatheads’ faces. And they looked afraid.

“What are these creatures doing here?” the boy wearing the obsidian crescent necklace said. “This is sacred Glass People land.”

“You’re right,” Sarkola said. “The intruders should be killed.”

“No! Don’t!” Yuliko shouted.

Faydayo shot her an ugly look, realizing she had disobeyed his order to stay with Krissa. But then he turned to Sarkola. “They should be captured and brought to Chieftain Domylo for judgment,” he said.

Sarkola spat on the ground, then said, “Domylo of the Ibex is the lowest status chieftain. If they are to be brought to anyone, then it shall be High Chieftain Vogon of the Razor Boars.” Then he started walking in a circle around the three kneeling flatheads. “But why should we bother my chieftain father with such petty matters. The flatheads already forfeited their lives by stepping their filthy bodies on Maw’Goro’s yard.” Sarkola slowly lowered the head of his war club near the temple of one of the flathead’s women’s skulls and let it hang.

With a whimper, the woman began gesturing with her fist moving across her chest in small circular movements, the traveler’s sign for ‘passing through.’ There were a select number of hand signals universally used across the lands for the most basic communication. There were also traveler’s signs for ‘seeking aid’ and ‘danger nearby’ and other things of that sort. But the flathead woman merely kept gesturing ‘passing through.’

Yuliko fought the urge to shout at Sarkola to put down his weapon. These strangers were clearly no threat, they were cooperating as much as they could, maybe they could learn something important from these people. But it was not Yuliko’s place to say anything, she’d already overstepped by following the party up the ledge. She desperately hoped Faydayo would be smarter than Sarkola.

“They are not fighting. If they are to die on the hardened blood of Maw’Goro, then it should be done through a proper sacrifice by a shaman. Not like this,” Faydayo said.

That was a clever move, Yuliko thought. Faydayo had framed it so that if Sarkola were to kill the flatheads now, then he would be denying the great spirit a formal offering.

Yuliko could see it in Sarkola's eyes, that he wanted to make a sacrifice, here and now, by his own hand. However, Sarkola lowered his club away from the woman’s head.

The woman exhaled in relief. Then gave the traveler’s sign for ‘Thank you.’

“Don’t thank me yet,” Sarkola said, then nodded to the boy with the crescent necklace. “I may decide that Nokomo will be performing his first formal sacrifice today.”

Nokomo did not seem thrilled about the prospect of that, but also did not protest.

The flathead man began signaling with his hands, but it was not traveler’s signs. He was also making the occasional grunting sound. The grunts varied in tone and inflection. He was speaking his own language, which appeared to be some combination of hand gestures and grunt noises. It was all gibberish to the Black Glass youths that surrounded the foreigners.

All gibberish except for one word that Lion had taught Yuliko. Lion had learned to speak the language of one of the flathead clans, for he had wintered with a clan long ago on his Great Journey. He would sometimes say this word as he stared at an obsidian core, examining long and hard before ever making his first break. He would grunt a sound like “Gruh,” and wiggle the fingers in one hand. That was a flathead word for ‘Fire.’

Yuliko shared a look with Kardan. He had understood the meaning too. Kardan had spent the most time with Lion, and had picked up a handful more words of that particular flathead language. The obsidian master’s apprentice looked to Faydayo. “Chief, may I try speaking with him?” Kardan had used the formal title for the leader of the mo’huran trying to show Faydayo respect in front of the Razor Boars.

Faydayo nodded in approval, but then Sarkola spoke up, “The only one doing the questioning here is me.”

“He knows some flathead words,” Faydayo said. “You know nothing.” And he nodded again to Kardan.

Kardan didn’t give Sarkola another chance to pipe in, and moved in front of the male flathead. Kardan started off by making the signal for ‘Friend.’ The flathead nodded and repeated the gesture. “They mean to be friendly,” Kardan said to the group.

Next, Kardan signed and grunted the word for ‘Great Journey.’ In his time wintering with the flatheads, Lion had been amazed to learn that the flathead clan also had a word for the Great Journey, and that it was a custom they also practiced. But, these scrawny flatheads shook their heads at the Great Journey signal. Instead the man pointed south, and used the traveler’s hand signal for ‘Walking.’ The flatheads were traveling south but not on a Great Journey.

Kardan tried the traveler hand signal for ‘Trade.’ The flathead shook his head no, and signaled again ‘Walking.’ Then Kardan repeated the gesture for fire with its matching grunt. The man nodded yes, fire. Then he raised his hands as high in the air as possible, standing on his tip-toes.

Big fire. He swept his arms around, gesturing to the whole landscape. Big fire everywhere.