The night was young and a woman straddled her Aimon with a push.

Her eyes scanned the hundreds of tents and huts. “Where’s my brother!” Her holler punctuated by the howl of the Aimon between her thighs.

“Kahali! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Father, if you are not man enough to go look for your runaway son, then I’ll be the one to do it.”

“It’s not within your rights. Kenrou knew the consequences of his actions. He chose to bond with Netek despite them all. In spite of them all in fact. He is exile.”

“NO! He is your Son!” Kahali screamed and her Aimon lunged over the tall and tan man. His hair-piece fell to the ground, and he turned around.

“I forbid you!” You shouted and pulled with his outstretched palm. A white energy pulled at Kahali. She grunted pulled on the fur of her companion to not be taken and he dug his claws into the earth. His chomped down and threw a chunk of rock overhead.

“I dismiss you. When you grow a pair of balls, and make a true decision as Chief of the Lonian Tribe, then you may have me as a daughter once more. Kahali Squadron! With me!” She screamed and from their tents a dozen men and women burst out.

They sailed and sprinted past her while her father frowned and pushed more Aether into his Skill. “Mysl. Outrage.” She whispered and a pulse passed through the settlement.

Then it sucked itself back and exploded with a rage filled howl that shattered the earth and broke the ears of the weak. Blue energy grew with Kahali as the center and pushed outwards. Relentless, hungry.

Then the pair were gone with the howling wind. Her father left haggard and out of breath, hair tufts falling over his face. The tribe protected from damage, in appearance alone.

Many rejoiced at the state of their leader. Many cried and other whined about it the coming morning with friends and family. The Dragon Matriarch deep in the Sacred lands didn’t make a peep, as she is oft to do yet there were few whose greed begun to pulse, shoving hope in their brains and blood through their hearts.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You can’t?”

“You left? Than what was this all about? Wasted time, I’m hungry!” Hana kicked a rock with her foot and it turned to spores that flew in the wind, some clung to her long billowing pants and she squeaked as she hurried to wipe them away.

“Is there something you’re not telling us, young warrior?” Myron investigated but Kenrou would not budge.

Netek sighed and pushed his knuckles on Kenrou’s heads.

“We are exiled, and it is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault Netek. We’ve been through this already. If I didn’t want to I wouldn’t have bonded with you.”

“Yet the truth remains that I left the Nesting Grounds and went against the Matriarch’s Wishes. I would have been sent away on my own. You just found me and stuck with me.”

“That means we’re in this together. I took up that burden knowing full well what it would mean.”

Myron interjected. “What does it mean?”

“It means that I can fight to protect my beloved people and home even if my Father may wish to stop me.”

“So you’re the son of the chief?” Hana asked, perking up suddenly.

“I am, A son of the Second wife. Not in the line of succession lady. My blood doesn’t have the pool you expect.” Kenrou crossed his arms and pouted.

“Yeah, Hana. You sicken me.” Myron nodded then turned to Kenrou and licked his lips.

“Is your father a coward?” He asked the warrior and he turned red in the face like a tomato.

“He’s not.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Then why would he wish to stop you? If you don’t matter to him, then why would he try and stop you from joining the ranks.”

“My Father. Does not wish to go on the attack. This narrow passage way is lost. Any further bloodshed to reclaim it is against his wishes. Yet this place is home to me as to every child in the Lonian tribe. I want to give it back to them.”

“Are you the only one that wants it?”

“No. There are others, but the tribe… It’s not well. Something is happening within its people. I can see it. My Brothers are fighting, more and more. Especially after the death of the oldest. Now the inheritance of the Chieftain’s Corona is up for debate and they all want to make strides.”

“As do you.”

“And to not be like them, I came here to make that difference on my own. I don’t look for recognition nor status, nor glory. I don’t even look for companionship. I have Netek.”

“What do you want then? Warrior? Do you want to win? To Burn them all to the ground?” Myron’s green eyes stared into Kenrou’s soul.

“I want to play in the Lazy River of the Valley with my sister, and to have my hair groomed by mother, and to be taught how to Command Netek in battle by my brother.” The boy said, the yearning thick in his voice, it dribbled out of his mouth and it was heavy with the memory. The distant chuckling of a child sounded out, faintly with the rustle of the drooping leaves.

“Some of those things can’t happen any more. Either by my choice or because of the invaders. Yet I still want those that are growing up right now to have the chance to experience those things.” A fire churned under deep blue of the open ocean, that are Kenrou’s eyes.

Myron shrugged. “I’m down.”

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“You’re what”

“Down. As in, going to help you.”

Kenrou’s turn came to be confused. “Why would you ever do that. I just told you. I’m not going back there, and I can’t. First things first, my tribe would not accept to hide you, nor any help from you.”

“We’ll see about such things when we come to them. Now is not the time.” Myron interrupted. “We are starving right now, help us get some food, as repayment for ambushing us and we’ll see. I mean do we have a reason to rush?” Myron asked innocently, smiling at Hana’s little scowl and the frowns Syl and Rhamon sported.

“Whatever. You’re weird. All of you.” Kenrou stood and dusted himself off.

The group with two new additions went about the valley high up in the hilly terrain. Picking at plumb fruits hidden under sheets of leaves and plant matter, grabbing onto lizards and other small critters. Pulling honey - or a close approximation of it - from flying hives and running away from the triggered swarm.

Scratching at their welts while digging up roots that emitted color, and then digging up dirt to get at the rocks below. Where they found crystalline pebbles of a misty blue. ‘Seasoning’ Apparently.

They gathered around the foot of a hill, hidden behind a jutting cliff-face, and cleared an area, gathered water from the gurgling river, water which had adhesive properties up until the fire lit under a set of pots by Netek warmed it up to a boil. It turned a deep red and bubbled like water.

Kenrou did his stuff, explaining every step as he went, from the proper way to detoxify the roots, and to clean the fruits, what to do with the waste and any uses they had in medical remedies, sleeping agents, or a whole lot of other stuff that Myron hoped he had a notepad to secure, for his brain was struggling to keep up.

When most of the activity and preparation died down and all the materials but one had been dumped into the biggest boiling pot of red water Myron took the time to go over his status.

Attributes

Explosiveness - 5

Might - 5!

Tenacity - 9

Instinct - 10

Focus - 10

Impact - 8

Spirit - 11

Clarity - 10

With a silent fist-bump he celebrated his Might attribute finally reaching the average of a Human males. His smile couldn’t be hidden and when Mery looked at him with a question in her eyes he shared the good news with her via their bond. As he did with the rest of them.

They congratulated him for the achievement and the moment passed. In truth, there is nothing major about this change. When looked at from a distance. Myron though, he could feel it, the hunger rise within him. A desire to make those numbers grow was pulsing and pushing him forward. Mery and the rest sensed it as well. A transformation was taking place within Myron, bigger than the one his Attributes alone could indicate.

“Last but certainly not least. The Seasoning.” He said and took out the small crystals they had gathered. His eyes fervent.

He ducked his forehead and brought his palms up, holding the small things to the sky.

Steam rose around his form and the smell of the cooking stew spread out, hearty and warm, perfect to rest the bones and warm the flesh.

“Thank you, Oh Great World Spirit, for this bounty you feed us.” He prayed and let the crystals tumble out of the cloth and into the bubbling water. The next moment Netek threw a bucket of water on the burning coals and steam rose up in a dense plume, its color an amalgamation of the rainbow, warping on itself and pushing outward.

Rhamon concentrated and held the steam from rising, disseminating it slowly into the air so as to not send signals to anyone that might be searching for them of their presence.

“What type of Crystals where those?” Myron asked after the silent moment passed and Kenrou returned to steering the pot with a great big stick they had spent some time sterilizing - good on the natives to know the basics of hygiene.

“They weren’t quite crystals, in the way humans have come to categorize them. They were just… solidified Aether. A Mix, neither pure enough to become Bahaar, nor attuned to a particular type either.”

“Why where they so important that you prayed for them. If they hold no specific name or title?”

“Because of two reasons. One, how they are made, and two what they bring to Aimon growth and Diet.” Kenrou showed to fingers. He then brought down the first.

“There is no Aimon involved in the process of creating this crystals. Nothing has to die, for them to be created.”

Then he brought down the other. “They are like bombs of benefits to an Aimon. Better than consuming the Crystal Core of a powerful Aimon right from its chest. You are thinking, how can that be? The answer is that I don’t know exactly. These are thought to be gifts from the world to Aimon, to help them grow stronger. Thus me and my people praise the Spirit that guides as all for this gift and don’t ask questions that have been left unanswered since the world begun.”

Myron took note of the boy’s answers. He seemed well taught in these subjects, though his own opinion was lost in the way he parroted the lessons he had been taught. Myron didn’t care and thus didn’t comment.

So the group served bowls to each other and ate a warm meal. The experience was intense. Spiciness like nothing Myron had tested flooded his mouth and brought tears to his eyes. His nose turned red only for all other flavors to suddenly be overpowered by an earthy root that smacked Myron’s palette to the ground and made it his bitch.

After chewing through earth itself a refreshing drizzle fell upon him and he let the river take him downstream.

This happened for every single scoop, a mixture of pain and pleasure such that Myron felt masochistic for putting himself through it. With an aftertaste so good it had him wishing for more.

After two whole bowls, each. A feat which required the gathering of more water and a second boil of all the ingredients. Everyone rested for a bit, satisfied and satiated.

Then trouble came knocking as Hana walked up to Myron. She looked down at him, sat with his legs crossed and his back on a big - soft enough to be a pillow - stone, and spoke.

“We need to talk.”

“It seems so.” He groaned as he stood. The two of them went a ways away, climbing further up the hill. And then sat down opposite to one another.

“I will go first.” Myron said and Hana contemplated before allowing it. “I apologize for taking charge. We are a team. That is what we have to become if we are to survive, and me going out of may way to make choices for the whole by myself, probably does not set a good precedent.”

“It does not, and your apology is accepted. At the end of the day Kenrou saved us a lot of time and gifted us a lot of knowledge, as well as a fresh culinary experience. I can’t fault your methods.”

“But…” Myron guessed.

“But we’re not going to his tribe.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not taking a side in this war. It’s immature to do so. Who are you, to dictate so freely that your Aimon should put their lives at stake for the shake of others? Who do you think you are, that you can change the course of this world against the might of the Baron and the Empire behind him. You’re riding high Myron, but I don’t see what you have that makes you special, special enough to dig your own grave and then escape its pull. You’ll be the death of those you supposedly love if you don’t listen to Syl more.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

“From the moment you came to this world, you’ve been bonded to an Aimon. A Second Tier Queen at that. Powerful doesn’t even cut it. She’s capable, trained in martial arts, dutiful as well. You then bonded with a Pygmaleon - Aimon known for their battle hunger and loyalty as well as their genius battle instincts, and of course, you Bond with a Kitsune. Mythical Beasts from the Isolationists of the Three Islands to the South of the Empire. Rare in every sense, and you have a specifically rare Variant who is not Psychic but rather the most esoteric and unknown Type of all. Fairy.”

“All you know is Aimon, and specifically powerful variants at that, loyal to you and dutiful as well. Somehow, doing all this without Tethers, knowledge for which I don’t have and I have had life-long acess to the Royal Libraries. So, you don’t understand how far away you are from the norm.”

“You don’t understand just how dangerous this world is. When the truth descends upon you it will be harsh and painful. So listen to me and Don’t fight the fights of others. Stay quiet, in a little hut somewhere deep in a forest and forget about encountering new Aimon, learning the secrets of the world, fighting battles and growing stronger. Hide. That is my suggestion for what you should do. Don’t look down on Rhamon and Syl for wishing to choose that path. They have a solid head on their shoulders.”

She finished with a jab of his chest with her dainty finger and then turned around.

She plopped her but down on the soft boulder and waited with arms crossed to see what type of response Myron had brewing for her.