As the door of the Elders' Hall creaked open, a feeling of tension seemed to sweep outward like an invisible wave. The members of the council began to emerge, their faces etched with the strains of difficult conversation. They dispersed in various directions, sharing quiet words or simple nods with those who awaited them.

It was my mother Aisling who caught my eye, her emerald gaze filled with an unreadable mix of emotions. She moved toward me with a grace that belied the intensity of the recent meeting. Her fiery red hair seemed to catch the dimming light of the sun, turning it into a soft halo that framed her face.

"Tak," she greeted me as she came closer, "Why are you standing out here?"

"I wanted to know what happened in there," I admitted. "The decisions made inside that hall affect us all, Mother."

Aisling sighed, her eyes drifting toward the diminishing light of the horizon. "There are still many things to discuss, it seems. The Wulani who were taken captive... they're not amenable to joining us, and some of their kin here agree. The wounds are too fresh; they still thirst for blood. There's a certain... unyielding pride that makes this all more complicated."

"And what did Mako think?" I asked, curious about the man who had taken on the mantle of leadership after Elder Akara's death.

"Mako... he mostly listened," she replied, the lines on her face deepening as she spoke. "He let the Wulani voice their grievances, and he listened to the thoughts and concerns of the others. Whatever decision is reached, it will happen soon."

I nodded, feeling a mix of admiration for Mako's approach and concern for the difficulty of the situation.

"Mother," I began cautiously, "I've been thinking. We might not have a choice but to adapt, to grow in ways we hadn't anticipated. What if—"

Before I could finish, Aisling raised a hand, her eyes meeting mine with a look that spoke volumes.

"I know you have ideas, Tak. And the time will come for those ideas to be heard," she interrupted gently. "But for now, the elders—and that includes Mako and Kiera—have to consider the safety and welfare of the entire tribe. Your ingenuity is a light, my son, but even the brightest light casts shadows. Sometimes, the decisions we make aren't just about what's possible, but also about what's best for everyone."

She placed a weathered hand on my shoulder, a reassuring weight that carried a lifetime of wisdom, love, and unspoken understanding.

"Go on now. Your heart is restless, and your mind full of thoughts. Turn them into stories, share them with Liora. But remember, the stories we live are sometimes written in a language more complex than the ones we tell."

With that, she turned and began to walk away.

As I walked away from the Elders' Hall, my mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and unresolved questions. It was unsettling how the Wulani seemed fixated on revenge for their former captives. Couldn't they see the bigger picture? The greater good that could come from unity rather than division?

And why bring this up now? Hadn't there been ample opportunity to address these grievances? I felt a sudden pang of realization—my knowledge of Wulani culture was woefully inadequate. I'd learned a smattering of their language but understood little about their values, traditions, or social norms. Had I been so engrossed in my pursuit of technological progress that I'd neglected to understand the very people who were now part of our community?

This oversight felt all the more glaring as I pondered the Mayitans. What did I truly know about them? Their culture, their traditions—were they similar to ours or as different as day and night? And if so, could those differences be bridged?

Lost in thought, I halted my steps. My gaze was distant, focused on something far beyond the horizon.

"Tak?"

The voice broke through my reverie, pulling me back to the present. I turned to see Enara approaching, her azure eyes filled with a blend of curiosity and concern.

"Why are you standing here alone?" she asked, her Ashian tinged with a soft Wulani accent. "You look like you're far away."

"I was just thinking," I admitted, forcing a smile. "About a lot of things—our tribe, the Wulani, and now the Mayitans."

She looked at me intently. "What about us?"

"I was thinking about going to see Aiasha. She spent some time under the Mayitans and is also a member of the Wulani people. I thought she could share a bit of knowledge so I could learn more about the two."

Enara placed her hand on my arm. "Maybe I can be of some help, what do you want to know?"

I sighed, not really knowing where to start. But, the current tension in the tribe was high, so it would be best to start with why. "Well, why are there so many people against the Mayitans? Why do they seek revenge?"

Enara looked at me, her eyes thoughtful as she considered my question. "You're asking about things that cut deep for the Wulani. I'll do my best to explain."

I met her gaze, grateful for her willingness to help me understand. "I'm all ears."

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"Why are so many Wulani against the Mayitans, even when they haven't personally interacted with them?" she began, repeating my earlier query. "It's not just about the captives, though that plays a big role. It's also about our pride—our pride in being strong, in being warriors. Haven't you noticed how often Wulani men engage in fights among themselves?"

I considered her words, recalling instances when I had, indeed, witnessed such confrontations. "Yes, I've seen that."

"That's just how we're raised," Enara continued. "Our culture celebrates strength, valor, and triumph in battle. The idea of Wulani being held captive and mistreated is... it's more than a wound. It's a stain on our honor. It's as if our ancestors themselves are frowning down upon us for allowing such a thing to happen. And that, Tak, makes it incredibly hard for the tribe to move on without seeking blood."

I nodded, the picture becoming clearer now. "That makes sense. But what about the Ashaya? Your tribe was fighting against us too. Why did that stop?"

She sighed, "That situation was a bit different. There was Kiera, a Wulani, who acted as a bridge between our tribes. And when the wolves came, we faced a common enemy. It... shook us. Made us question what we were doing. If it hadn't been for those two moments, we might have fought to the death, either yours or ours. Those moments of clarity allowed us to see beyond our pride, even if just briefly."

"So, it was circumstantial?" I asked.

She looked a bit confused at the word, but she still answered.

"Partly, yes. But also, perhaps for the first time, we saw the possibility of another way. A path where strength could only get us so far, and maybe it was time we united."

I looked at Enara, impressed by her insight. "You're wise beyond your years."

She smiled softly. "We Wulani may be fighters, Tak, but that doesn't mean we can't also be thinkers."

"Enara," I began cautiously, "there's more to life than seeking revenge or reliving past battles. Have you ever thought about what our combined tribes could accomplish if we truly worked together? I mean, really considered the potential?"

She looked at me thoughtfully, "With the knowledge and skills we've already shared, we could achieve more, that's true. But don't forget, more people will join us soon enough."

"What do you mean?"

"The babies, Tak," she said, almost smiling at my momentary confusion. "New Wulani and Ashaya will be born, and they'll grow to contribute to our society."

"I know, and that's a heartwarming thought. But that's many winters away from now. In the meantime, think of what we could build together with more people—now. More fields to cultivate, more hands to construct homes and tools, more minds to solve problems. We could rear more animals, and maybe even have enough manpower to explore beyond our immediate surroundings."

Enara's eyes widened as she digested what I'd said. "I haven't thought of that. I've always lived in the present, caring for what happens today, not what might come tomorrow."

I sighed, my expression turning serious. "That's the problem, Enara. It's not just you; it's all of us—the Ashaya elders, the Wulani. We're all so wrapped up in our immediate struggles and our long-held grievances that we forget to plan for the days ahead."

Enara nodded, her face reflecting the weight of my words. "You're right, Tak. We've been so focused on surviving that we've forgotten about thriving. And if we want to thrive, we'll have to think beyond today."

"Exactly," I said. "Survival is necessary, but it's not sufficient. We should aim for a life that's about more than just making it through another day. We need to think about building a lasting peace, not just avoiding the next conflict."

Enara looked at me, her gaze penetrating. "You always seem to think differently than the rest of us. Why is that?"

The question caught me off guard. No one had ever asked me that before, and I couldn't very well tell her the real reason—that my thoughts were shaped by knowledge and experiences from a future and a world far removed from what we were currently living.

I offered her a measured smile, choosing my words carefully. "Everyone tells me I'm blessed by the ancestors, so maybe that's it. Maybe they grant me perspectives that are unusual around here."

She nodded slowly, considering my response. "That could be it, but were your ancestors so wise? What did they know that we don't?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "They're not here anymore. All I know is that they watch over us, guiding us in ways we might not fully understand."

Enara nodded again, her eyes softening. "Mine too. And I hope that someday, I'll be with them, watching over those who come after me."

A silence settled between us, comfortable but tinged with the weight of our earlier discussion.

Finally, she broke it. "So, what do you suggest we do?"

I shrugged, letting out a sigh. "Convincing the others—whether they're Ashaya or Wulani—won't be easy. Old beliefs are hard to let go of, especially when they're rooted in pain and struggle."

I looked at her intently. "If the adults are too set in their ways, maybe we need to turn to the younger generation. They're the ones who will inherit the leadership one day, and maybe then we can see real change. For now, I think we should gather everyone who might be open to change and see where it takes us."

Enara looked intrigued but slightly puzzled. "And what will you do with them once they are gathered?"

"One step at a time. After building some consensus, perhaps I can introduce them to reading and writing."

She tilted her head, curious. "Reading and writing? What do you mean?"

I chuckled. "You're a Wulani, but you only know the word by how it sounds. Here, let me show you something." I knelt down and used my finger to write the word "Wulani" in the dirt.

"Do you know what this says?" I asked, gesturing at the letters etched into the ground.

Enara's eyes widened in astonishment. "What is this?"

"These are letters," I explained. "What I just did is called writing. Being able to understand these letters and what they mean is called reading."

Her eyes still fixed on the word, she said, "I didn't know this was possible. My ancestors couldn't do this."

I smiled warmly. "Mine could. And still do, through me."

"But I haven't seen anyone else from the Ashaya do this. Why is that?"

I leaned back, considering how best to explain. "Maybe they aren't as in touch with their ancestors as I am. My younger brother and sister should be able to learn this too, and maybe, in time, others will as well."

The concept seemed to intrigue her deeply, as if a door had opened to a world she never knew existed.

"This is a bridge to the ones who will come after us. No more teachings passed down through words of our parents, instead, we can write everything down for others to read later on. This is another way to think beyond today." I told her.

Enara still seemed puzzled by the letters on the ground. Her mind did not know the language, she was confused by how it was done. To her this was magic, but to me it was basic knowledge. While I did want to teach the children math, reading, and writing I should think about the people in my own age range as well like Enara. If I only taught children my siblings age or younger there would be a big gap between their generation and my own.

Maybe I was the opposite of the elders, thinking far too much into the future and not preparing for the near future. What would our tribe be like ten years from now? Or even twenty? By then the elders might have already passed on and others have taken their place. I might not even be around then, but what I knew and taught the others still would be. Eventually they would go on to shape the future. But for now, I should try with the help of others a way to have the others let go of the mindset of revenge.