- Trak'zor -

“Long live Chief Trak'zor!”

All the tribesmen cheer and raise their bared swords into the air. I hold my own sword out to them in both palms, a symbolic offer of my service to the tribe.

But I've never felt less like cheering. This whole ceremony, which not too long ago would have thrilled me to the core, is empty and hollow and meaningless. I'm missing a part of me. A large part.

Even now, having just become the chief of our tribe, I constantly find myself staring towards the gate, hoping to see a small figure walking in. A figure with wide hips and long hair and a mysterious smile on her face.

That will never happen. She said I'm proud. And that's true. But so is she.

I look out over the tribe. They're expecting me to say something, to state how great the tribe is and what I intend to do with it.

But Aurora is right. It's not a great tribe. It's not even good.

Two weeks ago I would have leapt at this chance, and I would have had endless ideas for how to change the tribe. Now I see how little it means.

“Men of the Garan tribe,” I begin, but then I go quiet again. I have no idea how to continue.

Well, I have to say something.

“Today we mourn the loss of five of our tribesmen. Drem'tax, Bion'ax and Hing'ox. As well as Chief Heri'ox. Whatever their failings, they died the death of warriors. We will miss them.”

So my time as chief starts with me telling blatant lies. I doubt anyone will miss Heri'ox.

“And we will miss Shaman Ren'tax, who was called to the Ancestors this last sunrise after a long life of serving them. His wisdom will be sorely missed. Because we will need all the wisdom we can get in the time ahead. It will be a tough time. But it will be worth it. Some say this is a great tribe.”

Some tribesmen cheer. Mostly because they're drunk.

“I say it's a bad tribe! Even now. Yes, we were led down a dark path by certain powers that are now gone. Still, one man is not enough for a whole tribe to rot on the vine like this one has.”

A sharp barb hits my heart. Wither on the vine. That's one of Aurora's expressions.

“We have all cooperated in turning this village from a wonderful home to a heap of trash. Look around you! When I was a boy, that fence would be whole and clean. The huts would be in good repair. The food stores would be full. The water would be cool and pure. The fruit trees would be tended to. There wouldn't be one root of darkweed within a thousand paces of the village. Today I found a full cluster right beside the Chief's tent!”

I pause, and the meeting mound is deathly quiet. I don't think they expected this. Well, then they didn't really know me.

“We have a lot of work ahead of us. And the first thing we'll do is get rid of all the burl. We'll pour it all out. And the gorel fruits will be used for eating, not for making pleasant drink. If and when we bring this tribe up to what it should be and what it used to be, then maybe we'll make a little bit of burl for special occasions. But never again will I see tribesmen sitting idly outside their tents in bright daylight!”

Nobody thinks of cheering.

“I notice you are being quiet. Yes, you will have to work hard for this to happen. You're not used to it. But I am. I will show you how. And I will help. But I will not be forced to oversee every little thing. You are men. Warriors! You must be able to do these things on your own. Without constant supervision. If not, you are not a tribe and I will have nothing to do with you. I cast you out once. I can do it again. And if I have to do it again, I will let this tribe die. Other tribes want me to join them. Better tribes. I don't want to leave this tribe. But we all know that it is not worthy of me!”

I'm coming on strong. But this is not the time to hide my real opinion. They already know I feel this way.

The silence is oppressive. The tribesmen are staring at me with stony faces. I don't blame them. I've only spoken like this to them once. And then it ended with them being cast out.

“And one last thing. The Woman called this tribe cowards. Still, that's not the whole reason she left. She left because of me. This tribe may not be worthy of me yet. But I'm not worthy of her. You can still prove that I'm wrong, and that I belong with you. I can no longer prove anything to her.”

The tribesmen are exchanging bewildered glances. I don't blame them. I'm confused, too.

Except I'm suddenly a little less so.

I take a deep breath.

“I accept the honor of being the chief of the Garan tribe. For now. It is up to you to see to it that it is in fact an honor.”

What I do next surprises even me.