Beck awoke no longer strapped down
In fact, he was laying on a bedroll, a warm blanket covering his body. Slowly, he tried to sit up, and found that only the most severe of his wounds were still truly bothering him. The rest simply felt like small burns on his skin. Looking at himself, he noticed that he was almost naked, only his underclothes left to cover his dignity.
In spite of that, the first thing he noticed was the scar on his stomach. A two-inch long line of scar tissue ran down from his navel, and he realized just how bad the gut wound had been. He looked to his forearm and found that what was a hole the same size had been closed up and seemingly cauterized. The muscles had regained their function, and he marveled at being able to close his hand again.
It was only after taking in his condition that he actually realized he was still alive. He looked around, taking in his new surroundings.
Beck had awoken in a small tent, three long, twisted branches interlacing in the middle to keep the structure's shape. It was large enough for him to leave on his feet if he crouched, but standing was out of the question. His bloody clothes sat folded in a corner, on top of which lay Pa's crossbow. After the realization that he was, in fact, still alive, it didn't take long to remember that Ma and Pa no longer were.
Beck could only hope that the Kode had someone who could do the ceremony for them. He tried to stand, to find someone he could talk with, but the broken ribs reminded him of their presence as more than a background ache the further he tried to push himself up.
As he lay there, he considered Pa's crossbow. He'd traded a year's supply of water for it before he was born, and that was what started their business with the Kode. The body was carved from the main section of a claw from one of the crabs their people hunted, the limbs formed from shell taken from the legs. The scope was housed in another leg section, behind where the tendon-string locked into place. The scope itself was formed from desert sand, sourced from the sand basins in the east.
It was a masterpiece, likely worth far more than they had paid for it. But the Kode were master arbalists, the weapons being their main source of trade. The crabs they made it from migrated across the peninsula, making their nomadic lifestyle necessary to continue the craft. Like most weapons in the Rusts, it's design was inspired by Spellguns. The things were ancient and rare, but the influence they had over modern weaponry was omnipresent.
The thought of Spellguns brought him back to the attack. Bolthead had one. That meant it'd been around a while, or it'd been through a ruin and "survived." The boy had never stood a chance. Laying there, he could only curse their luck, that they would be just another casualty in this not-so-cold war.
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After a few hours of that, the flap to the tent opened, and in came a young woman with skin the near-purple color of the darker fruits that grew on Pa's cacti and wavy, orange hair pulled into a ponytail. Beck couldn't tell much more about her physique through the shell breastplate and leg armor, but her arms seemed well-muscled, and as she drew closer he realized that she was much closer to his father's size than he had been.
He had pushed himself up slightly at her entrance, but she pushed him down by the shoulder and drew back the blanket. He resisted initially, but soon relented when she produced a ball of flame from her other hand. She gave him a slight smile as she set to work, the same flame entering the stab wound as she waved her hand over it.
Beck could feel the warmth spread through him. The flame seemed to reconnect severed tissue, travelling from where it had entered, down to his toes, and up to his heart before returning to where it had originated. He guessed that his relaxation was visible when he heard her laughing.
He ignored it, and tried to just feel the energy as it circulated through him. It invigorated him, and he wanted for all the world to jump up and start doing, but rationally, he knew that his ribs were still broken, and that he would need to let the healer do her work.
Minutes passed as she worked in silence. Beck didn't mind, simply enjoying the feeling that the healing brought. He could feel the heat dim slightly whenever it passed his solar plexus, though he didn't know the name of that particular area.
After the warmth receded and the girl removed her hand, he instinctually knew that the stab wound and his ribs had been mended enough to stand. They still hurt, but it was manageable and didn't threaten to snap. The Kode produced clothing from a bag behind her waist and laid it next to him before patting his hand. He hadn't even realized that it had gone to his ribs.
"When you are dressed and able to stand, my father wants to speak with you." With that, she left him, slipping out through the tent flaps. He saw stars through the opening, for the brief moment it was open and unobstructed.
After she was gone, Beck looked to the clothes that had been left for him. They were made from woven grass, with what looked to be shell decorations throughout the fabric. He considered his bloody clothes, then decided he would take what was given. He grabbed the crossbow on the way out, slinging it across his back.
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As he left the tent, he came out to a bustling camp, at least a hundred people that he could see spread out across a large number of tents, with multiple fires burning towards center of camp. The entrance to his tent had been faced away from the fires, so he had to step around it as he began to approach.
A man nearly twice his size, whom he recognized as the chief, was working a spit over the largest fire, singing a rhythmic tune. A ring of men and women around him raised their voices or grew quiet at different parts of the song. Beck stood at the edge, watching as they roasted what looked like a razorback. He could see large boiling pots on the other side of the ring, but his main focus was the boar. He felt his stomach rumble at the sight, but he had an appointment, apparently.
He looked around for the woman who had healed him, and spotted her nearest the chief. So he was her father. He would have to start learning these people's names soon. Pa had dealings with them, but really only ever spoke about the chief and his daughter, and never by name.
So Beck sat outside the firelight and waited, watching as fat dripped from the boar. It seemed today had been a good day for hunting. The families tended to gather on days like these, to catch up as much as anything. Tomorrow, provisions would be made, but tonight, there would be celebrating.
It felt wrong. Beck's life had just been destroyed, and yet there was a party as soon as he woke up. There was no way for him to know how long he'd been out, so it could've been the same day, or days after. He had yet to grow stubble, so he couldn't use that to track how long it had been, nor did he ever learn to read the stars.
Still, at least he was still alive. As long as that was true, he could always get stronger. Then he would find Bolthead and its ilk and make them pay. But first, he had to know what he owed for his salvation. No such thing as a free lunch, and all that.
As the tribe's song came to a close, the chief stopped turning the spit. The fires died instantly. As he stood straight up, Beck amended his first impression of the man; he was twice his size and a couple heads taller. It wouldn't have been a surprise if he'd had Giant blood in his family.
A tray was brought out, onto which the boar was deposited. Giant crabs were pulled from the boiling cauldrons with chains, each twice the size of a man and likely weighing four times as much. The shells were cracked down the middle, and people scooped the white meat from the shell and onto plates and bowls before breaking off into groups. Occasionally, a few would come his way, and he would smile and nod.
Beck took in everything, but he was mainly focused on the chief. Him and his daughter walked together, talking to people and eating with them. He would wait for things to settle down before approaching.
A child approached with a bowl of crab meat for him and he accepted it with a "Thank you," to which the child smiled before running off. He shrugged and began eating, slowly at first. It didn't take long for him to devour it all.
After Beck had filled his stomach, things seemed to have died down enough. He stood and walked over to the chief, mentally kicking himself for not taking the time to learn the tribe's customs. The chief had obviously noticed his approach, as his gaze had been following him since he had stood up.
"The boy lives! Pay up, Jaglen!" The big man laughed and clapped the man to his right on the back, whom almost spilled his drink. He grumbled and handed over a waterskin, which the chief took with a smile.
Jaglen left, and the chief patted the now vacant spot on their large rug. Beck sat where he was bid and waited for the chief to speak to him. He didn't wait long.
"So, Wyatt's son. I'm sorry about your parents." The man's tone had done a complete 180, and he now wore a somber expression to match. "They were good friends. We'll send for a priest to do the ceremony for their bodies, but for now, we buried them as deep as the roots go."
That was good enough. Rotters wouldn't spend the effort to go that far down. Beck nodded, "Thank you. I can rest easier knowing that. But I owe you for this, right? I don't have much."
The chief shook his head, having taken a bite from one of the boars legs while Beck was speaking, and took a moment to finish chewing before he spoke. "I don't expect repayment. Your family has been a great help for many years. In honor of your parents, you will be welcomed into the tribe. We will teach you our ways, and you may stay as long as you wish."
That was enough to stun him. Beck had been expecting them to at least want him to pay for his healing. Even Feila's priests had to charge. Instead, he was just here. And, apparently, that was okay.
Over the course of the night, it was explained that he would be welcomed into the tribe with a hunt. It was to take place at the end of the month, over which time he would learn their customs. Once the time came, he would prove himself in the hunt and officially be a member of the Kode.
After explanations were done, Beck finally learned that the chief's name was Kennett. That, and Kenna was his only child, as well as a bit of a jack of all trades. The chief had explained that she was getting close to being able to match him in craftsmanship, at which point, she would either take leadership of the tribe, or separate and try to find a place for herself outside the tribe. Kenna said herself that she was still undecided on what she would do when the time came.
After their feasting was done, everyone retreated back to their tents. Beck would begin learning how the Kode shoot in the morning, as well as how to maintain Pa's crossbow. He didn't sleep much that night.
Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. Just this morning, he was struggling out of bed, Ma fussing at him to get ready. He had seen more growth today than ever before, but it felt meaningless. The new Skills, the level, all of it came after Ma and Pa had died. Only Ma had known about [Shape Water], to boot. He had never managed to tell Pa. What hurt more than anything, though, was that he never got to say a proper goodbye.
What sleep Beck did get only came after a long while of tears, and trying not to let anyone else hear them. He didn't have any family left, and you didn't let anybody but family see you cry. So he stayed quiet, or as quiet as he could.