Ares and his group were led away by Sohka during afternoon, heading Westward, but veering North towards the nearby mountains. There were a large number of oxen that drove carts, which allowed most of his tribe the ability to ride along the carts rather than walk. Ares was extremely thankful to Sohka, and offered to carry some things that may be cumbersome to carry using his ability, which he showed to Sohka.

"Will you use such abilities during the fights?"

"I was thinking that the fights would be unarmed, that way my victory will be all the more impressive."

"You have yet to win, perhaps you should not gloat so early."

"I don't mean any disrespect, it's just that to live my dream, I must already have envisioned that I have won the bout. Plus, the only one I am truly afraid of, or rather, there are three. Lana, Grita, and yourself."

"Myself? What makes you think you should be afraid of me?"

"You are a wisened man, and everyone knows that the old, wisened man who is stoic is the most dangerous one of all."

Sohka seemed pleased by the answer, as his ears wiggled and he smiled. He did not reply to it, however, instead asking. "What of Lana and Grita?"

"Grita reminds me of a kind hearted mother, it would hurt me to even think about facing her."

"..." Sohka remained silent, waiting the next part.

"Lana is pretty, I fear she could ask me to surrender, and I would do so due to her charm." Ares chuckled. These were mostly all jokes, with a hint of truth. He wasn't quite the nice guy.

A few hours later they had come across a large tent city, with thousands of ox people all around them. It was vast, the land that they roamed, a sea of tents keeping them housed from the elements, though no doubt their muscles also helped.

"Amazing…" He whispered as he saw all the ox folk. "How many people reside within the city?"

"About five thousand."

"Are they all in your tribe?"

"This is half of my tribe. The other five thousand roam the land. The land here is suitable for farming, so we have decided to settle. Usually we would not do such a thing, but over the generations we found ourselves staying in this particular spot more often and for longer, so we took that as a sign from the Mother."

"Amazing… are all the other tribes as large?"

"Yes. Though mine is the largest, the difference is but a thousand, two at most."

Sixty thousand oxfolk at least. Moving them all would be so difficult, and ruling over them too… perhaps he should be thankful that he'd take much less with him, if they decided to join him.

Sohka had sent a messenger ahead, and many families had began moving their belongings to new tents propped at the edge of the city. Ares went to thank the families, and apologised for intruding. The oxfolk seemed more than happy to move though, finding such a thing an honour. These definitely sounded like his people.

"We have a few with others, so I'm glad they get to rest for some time." Ares said as he then placed down the various items he had stored for his tribe.

"We have many with others as well, though with a tribe at this size, it would be a surprise that we wouldn't. We shall welcome one tonight, if all goes well."

"Well, here's hoping."

"Would you like to join?"

"I'd be honoured." Ares replied. He assumed that it was an honour, so he decided to accept to remain within their good graces.

The evening had come, and many had started to eat. There was a lot of bread, meat and stew. Ares spoke with another catfolk family, who seemed to be quite happy here, though we're still settling their nerves.

However, it was during the meal that an oxwoman appeared, nursing a large stomach. She sat nearby Sohka and a few shamans, who were in the process of burning some herbs to help calm her.

Ares winced as he saw the birthing, and tried to keep his food inside. He tried not to show he was squeamish, but after the birthing, there was an adorable little oxbaby. A shaman cleaned and inspected the child, and they frowned. They shook their head.

"Rain will come, the baby is too weak." They said.

Ares grew cold at the words. He looked around to see the mournful expression, and then watched as the shaman drew a dagger from his side.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Ares called out.

The shaman turned to face him, bringing the dagger to the baby. Without realising what was going on, Ares found himself with his blade drawn, the mithril shimmering as the flames nearby flickered across the metal, and pressed it against the shaman's neck.

"What are you doing?" He repeated.

The oxfolk were still, and the air grew tense. Ares' remained fixated on the shaman's eyes.

"What is it that you are doing?" Asked Sohka, as several of the oxfolk began to move, some grabbing onto their spears. Rori moved cautiously towards Ares.

"Chief, sheathe your blade." Rori said.

"Only if he does first." Ares stated calmly.

"We must allow the child to be free of her weak form, so that their spirit may live in peace and choose a new form when it so chooses to." Sohka said.

"All babies are weak, that doesn't mean you can kill them…" Ares replied.

Rori placed a hand on his shoulder. "This is the law of the land. The weak children would only suffer."

"No, they won't." He said. "To kill a child, there are few things worse in the world."

"Yes, allowing one to suffer knowingly, this is why we free them from their suffering." Sohka nodded.

"No. The child will live."

"Do you wish to take care of her?"

"Yes. My tribe will accept her as our own." Ares said, trying to keep his voice calm. "And I will accept any of your children born of weak body or whatever, there shall be no murdering of children whilst I remain here." Ares said, his eyes not leaving the shaman's.

"Very well. As long as you reside here, we shall not kill any of the newborns. You have my word." Sohka said.

In that instant, the sword disappeared from his hand and he instead reached out, taking the baby from the shaman. He withdrew with the child within his arms, and sat down. The tenseness within the area continued as he rocked the baby, letting them begin to cry out.

He cooed the child, holding them within his arms, gently rocking them from side to side. "Yes, yes, I know… it's alright now, go ahead and cry as much as you like…" He whispered. His rage had all dissipated as he stared at her face.

Ares had ignored the other oxfolk, some of whom had made a move to step towards him, but Rori stepped ahead too. The oxfolk paused, and Sohka made a motion with his hand, and they withdrew.

Rori took their place at his side.

"Is this something your tribe used to do?" Ares asked. "Murder defenceless children?"

"It is a mercy."

"It's no longer allowed. Make sure you let everyone know… also could you ask around for those who can feed the baby?"

Rori nodded. Ares was glad that they didn't protest, he didn't want to heat up with rage again. Rori left and returned a little later with one of the pregnant women, who had had a child recently that they had to kill. Ares' mouth soured, but he handed over the baby.

"This girl is a member of our tribe. Please take good care of her. Let me know if anything happens to her."

She nodded and took the child away, and then Ares turned to look at Sohka, who was now smoking a pipe.

Ares refused to apologise for what he had done, he wasn't going to go and let them think that it was fine to do such a thing.

"Once I've unified the land, I will make sure such a thing no longer occurs. All children will be able to blossom."

"Your dream is indeed foolish."

"No, that part isn't. That may be the easiest thing." Ares replied.

Sohka caught his gaze, and Ares stared resolute. Sohka nodded, and continued smoking, offering Ares some of the pipe too.

"Here, to relax you." Sohka said. Ares hadn't ever done such a thing before, but he decided to try it to ease the tensions. So he did, taking in a gentle puff, then a couple more. He let out his breath staggered, forming o-rings of cloud and then he blew them away.

It certainly did calm him, letting his shoulders down and then he breathed more deliberately, as if each breath was a meal. Hehe felt a little light headed, in a way that allowed him to think differently.

"Whoa." He said as he contemplated life. 'Yeah, baby murder is still wrong.'