Uke was said to have towered over the canopy, crushed Ferrum branches in hand and slayed colonies of their ancient foe, the Rahlocks, with one mighty blow. As he first appeared in the primal days of tribal rivalry, his colossal shadow blanketed the land, startling the bickering leaders into silence with his mere presence.

His mass, his strength, his Will wasn’t what ended strife amongst his kind, It was Uke’s self-sacrifice. A paragon of leadership, the Satyr charged like the point of a spear into battle, toiled in the satyrcraft glens, foraged and hunted to provide for his people.

He was their bastion during the dark ages, pulling his kind forth with broad shoulders and inspiring speeches.

“‘Together we rein, as one tribe we gain. Satyr survival is everything, it demands bravery from our weakest, it requires sacrifice from our strongest.’ These were the words of Father Uke before the battle of Ten Trees.” Says a Satyr around the fire in the evening. I wish to return to those more simple evenings, after training is finished for the day, my body clean after the river. The camp settled for the evening's meal with tales of legends.

“Coward!” Phlegm spits as the Captain screams at me.

“This man abandoned me to suffering and death!” The crowd is silent as he accuses me, this is my next trial and they’re my jury.

“I thought you were dead, it was a decision anyone here would have chosen as well.” I plead.

“Does a dead man cry for help? Our true Shepherd wouldn’t leave any Satyr behind in their time of need.” The Voice speaks up, relishing this catastrophe I find myself in.

“I didn’t know, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry! Sorry you took my sword and left me weaponless to face those beasts alone.” The Captain bellows while stumbling up to me, his torn fur a gruesome image to see, yet I can’t shy away.

He snatches the old battered sword from my hip, raising it into the air for all to see.

“My only salvation in the darkness was taken from me in the fray of battle by him.” He turns indicating with the point at me, I fear he will swing as his fury seethes.

“We descended that hole to aid in your trial! My Thorns died defending you! And you ran like a craven like all smoothskin do. Caring only for themselves.” His words sound rehearsed, and I see the Voice’s scheming eyes over the Captain's shoulder.

I don’t kid myself that they hold some truth, but this moment of failure is the dissolution their leader has been gurning for.

“The trial was my own, yes! But I never asked for the Thorns’ help. They only wanted the Ferrum seed, none cared for the younglings except me!” My argument feeble, the tribe leers at me as their position has already been set in my absence.

“The seed of our second greatest provider, after Mother herself, was only part of the trial. A simple way of proofing your Shepherdhood. Yet again failed.” The Voice screams.

The Captain wavers with exhaustion, only his rage for me keeps him standing. “Even in death, you disrespect our fallen. Brothers now lost outside Mother’s realm. Never to rise with their ancestors, trapped underground for eternity.” The Thorns leader smoulders.

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“It wasn’t my fault, the creatures slaughtered them. Not me.” A small smile escapes his anger. Oh no, he was waiting for this slip up.

“More lies! I witnessed the evil you unleashed with your own blood. Cursing the garrison with insanity and Chaos! This man is an agent of Omnia, sent to spin words through our people. He wishes to tear us away from our destiny, he wishes to see us spent!”

“That’s not true.” I try to shout but words are drowned out by the raucous crowd, a mob vibe washes over them with the talk of treachery.

The Voice steps forward, lifting his hands for a quiet that he soon finds.

“Here these words, for Mother only tells the truth. The Luna prophecy spoke of the coming of the Shepherd, it heralded the spiritual leader will take us from hardship into the new pasture, where our kind will once again prosper. She stated it shall be a man, and more. I held back this final part at her advice, to reveal its miscreant.” He waits a few beats to build tension.

“She spoke of a fraud that would revel in our moment of hope. A fake that wishes only for extinction, an agent of both Chaos and Order. That fallen champion of our enemy stands before us. With Satyr blood on his hands.” He cries accusation to the roar of the mob.

I’m leaf falls from being torn apart, looking for sanctuary, I turn to my friends.

“Piia, Toomas. Please you must understand, it’s not as he says. We were done for in the Depths.” I plead with desperate tears.

Toomas looks lost.

Alek stares with the mob's anger instilled in her.

Piia shakes her head with sadness. “I wanted nothing more than to follow you, Seth. How can I now? I thought you could use their God's power against them, why would you use it on us? On the people you promised to save.” She can’t look me in the eyes.

“It was an accident.” Is all I can mutter.

“With your own words, you said you had abandoned the prophecy. Mother knew your true intent and now we all do. I’m sorry Seth, I think you should leave.” The others nod in agreement. Members of the crowd around her call for exile.

“Exile for murder?” The Voices yells to be heard. “Mother demands blood for blood, her Voice is law, this man is a criminal and guilty.”

I'm rutted, my friends share a look as if to speak up, however, the tribe calls out in agreement. I need to get out of here, if only I still had that Bag of Screams. Muk me, why did I buy that Riptail and not another item? Must I lash out at these innocent people, they’re misled and manipulated by their power hungry leader.

Where is Cane and Artur? I don’t see them in the crowd.

Boi pushes through legs to the edge of the small clearing around me.

“I thought you were our hero! Then you hit me when I tried to help!” The young Satyr picks up a small stone and launches it at my head. I try to duck but the sharp edge catches my exposed temple, Boi cheers at the blood trickling down, as do others.

More stones come, most bouncing off my armour and thick poncho, but some find skin and bone. I crawl into a ball like a cowering Rubus before a pack of hungry Verox.

Cattle Senses

I see through Cane and find only dirt walls, a pain burns on one side. He moans in agony, calling for me with small yips that I only hear in his ears. Trapped at the bottom of the pit, they must have tricked him or pushed him down, his great mass impacted heavily on the hard packed floor of the hole.

A heat of vengeful passion ignites as the stones rain down on me. I control my breathing as Toomas taught me, quelling a frenzy that threatens to break out. The Voice and his Thorns did this, not the villagers. Losing myself would only cause harm to innocents that believe I am against them, lashing out will only convince them of that Satyr dung.

Long fur cloaks drag twigs and forest litter across the clearing as the Voice approaches me, he stands tall with triumph.

“An execution is our verdict. We will clean Mother’s realm of his sin and folly with blood and burnt flesh. Eyes, ears and tongue removed so this fraud walks in the underworld deaf, dumb and blind. Aimlessly wandering, endlessly trapped in his blank existence. Forever regretting the day he stood against us.”

Not today, I say to myself. Leaping to my feet, I go for my sword, aiming to fight through the crowd and run into the wilderness.

Thorns surround me, they strike with spears and staves. My calf is skewered between my Ferrum plates. Shock overtakes me as the pain sweeps through, a stave crashes over my head, knocking me back to the dirt.

Hooves charge towards me and I shrink away, expecting a spear in the back. They stop nearby, peeking through my fingers, I see a Thorn whispering in the Voice’s ear. I do not hear his words, but their spiritual leader makes a show of shushing the crowd.

“Tell them all, tell the people.” The Voice says.

The Thorn removes his tribal mask of a laughing face and turns to the crowd.

“He has come, the true shepherd has arrived!”