The horses advanced unimpeded by the difficult terrain. The riders, lost inside their thick garments, gazed at the vast plains with unblinking eyes. One of them cleared his mouth and said with a rather soft tone.

"The trails keep going for at least twenty kilomentes". It was a woman. With her hand, as they trotted, she pointed to a distant mountain separated from other mountains by a few kilometers. "That's where they lead to, probably."

The other rider confirmed with his eyes the assertion from his partner, and assented.

"The marks are clear and the trail is fresh. Carry the order and signal the troops. We will leave as soon as they arrive." said the male rider.

The woman looked at his eyes for a second and immediatly after at the mountain and her baggage, from where she drew a little vial with a burner. Then she withdrew a long bamboo tube, and inserted the vial, she held the tube pointing to the sky, tilted a bit behind them, and lit the burner. A flash lighted the surroundings and the signal exploded with smoke in the sky. Almost immediatly after, the faint, undetectable sound of a company of soldiers and scouts started approaching.

"Prepare your horse." Said the male rider, then hurried the horse and continued traveling.

Soon they were at the feet of the mountain. There, the traces of a burial were scattered about, threwn across what appeared to be a the entrance of a cave.

"What is this?" Said the woman. Her piercing gaze discerned funeral memorabilia placed on the entrance of the cave; woman's braids, old tiger teeth, decorated bison skins, old dried fruit that dispersed a profound, spicy odor.

"Seem like funeral rites. As we thought, in this mountain we will find another tribe." the man responded. Then, as he saw the woman's intention of entering the cave

"Don't. It's not ominous to disturb the dead, and even worse for the Death of the strange people that populate the lands far from our lands."

The woman heard him and smirked, then derided his opinion.

"There are no gods. Only the Might." And dismounted her horse. As she approached the cave, the man also dismounted and started following her, his gaze scanning the surroundings.

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Soon, they were inside the cave. It was a little cave no more than a dozen feet deep. The clarity of a little creek iluminated the insides with the undulating reflection of the light. The humid air was filled with certain strangeness.

There, the riders could see a young girl laid against the rocks, covered in funeral clothes, surrounded by dried fruits. Then they saw on her face dark pustules agaist her clear skin that still hadn't started descomposing.

"Hell! Damned barbarians!" the riders, immeadiatly saw the pustules of some dark plague, and cursed. Rapidly fell back and left the cave.

Outside, the male rider looked at his companion with unhid grimness.

"You are too young." acidly said. Then left with his horse to look for some herbs and a nearby river to wash himself from the taboo.

The female rider stubbornly stood and waited for her partner to dissapear. She knew what she did had been a foolish, reckless move, alas, her pride impeded her to fully form that tought. She looked at her mount and said to it.

"Hey, Hisan, wait for me. I'll go wash."

When she found a nearby river, she washed herself fully. As taught, she gathered reeds and water fruits with clean essence as to flush from her taboo the taboo of the plague. While bathing, she felt her soft skin, and the mysteries of her body.

As she had felt and learned since having reason and memory, every person had a taboo, a forbidden center where the mysteries of one's own existence converged and extended through the body onto the world. As the center, it was delicate, and was meant to be secret, for it was easily polluted by the nefarious effect of the Others; other gods, other people, other essences. And the only way to extend the taboo and dispel it was the Might.

But for her, maybe because of her steamrolling, overbearing and prideful character, the stories of the Might were the most enchanting, and filled her mind with unending derision for the other Mysteries.

The Might, as was taught, was the extension of the taboo to the world around oneself, the process of making the world around one an extension of the personal, immanent center, a part of the body. And as the world was of one, all other mysteries were superceded, unlocked and comprehended.

Ever since she learned these things, she always held in her mind her motto. "There are no Gods, only the Might. And no Mysteries, but the Might."

But the craft was the craft, and as scout she had to follow the teachings. So she washed herself carefully in the agrid paste of her making, instintively scanning, both as scout and as a woman, for prying eyes in the reeds or in the tall grasses.

Soon, a loud but discrete whistling sounded, a whistle so natural it meshed itself with the natural surrounding sounds, and that only trained ears that were actively waiting to hear it, would hear. It was the whistle of the hunter, inherited by the scouts, to call one to the other.

When the male and female riders were reunited again, the female said.

"Let's go up the mountain to see what awaits us."

The male nodded, but said. "A famelic tribe, probably. That's the only thing these infinite plains have ever given us."