*** Chapter 10 Day 3 The Warriors ***

“What do you make of it Freet?” Volstag asked, as they both inspected the back of the warrior that Brynjar had brought back.

Right now it was them two, Brynjar, and Nolson, the only medicine man of the tribe, that occupied the room. Nolson was taking care of the last bandages so he had excused his apprentices.

Freet is a taklatlotl, they are a rare and scattered people who travel the world using their incredibly large wings. Freet is part of a tribe that resemble gold eagles, eight foot tall eagles with a somewhat humanoid form that make them look strange with their thinner chests and long taloned legs. The thing that makes Freet and his people even more unique, is their ability to understand and speak all languages after hearing it once and all within range of them become able to do the same for as long as they are close.

The great bird looked forward and his head cocked side to side as he inspected the backside of the warrior they had brought from the Mizton den.

“I have seen this,” the bird man spoke. “The markings belong to the people south of here, but I do not think he belongs to the people there. Your kind are usually hard to tell apart, but those of the south are darker, his skin is paler, not as much as your own, but more so than those of the people I speak of.”

“The markings are barely there,” Brynjar stated. “Tattoos do not fade.”

Barely visible on the back of the man that they had encountered in the mizton den was the tattoo markings of something akin to a turtle, though the image itself was hard to make out as the ink appeared so faded. It was almost as if the skin was simply more tanned, though the distinct greyness of ink was discernable.

“There are two more on his chest,” Nolson added, turning the unconscious man around. There was no chance of waking him after what the man had gone through. Once on his back the other two markings could clearly be seen, one on each of his pectorals. One depicted a small flying bird and the other the head of a sort of spotted feline.

These markings were also faded.

“While it is interesting the kind of workmanship that went into the tattoos why is it that you are here to see them Volstag?” Brynjar asked.

“That I can answer,” Nolson replied in his stead. “When you brought him here and we started to remove his clothes to treat him the markings were steaming. They were hot to the touch, feverish. It was almost as if he was branded with the markings, though now they have cooled.”

“Do you think it is trickery?” Brynjar asked. “Acts of the trickster Loki?”

“I do not know what to think, old man,” Volstag stated. “Whatever plays across his skin there is no denying the man has potential. He is barely earning the hair on his face, but if nothing else the sight of the den proves his worth.”

“Well, he will recover,” Nolson said. “It is incredible that he suffered nothing major, in fact as we pieced him together, his wounds seemed to fade up until his markings stopped steaming. It would not surprise me if he is back to full strength by the morrow.”

“I’m not that old,” Brynjar smacked Volstag’s shoulder with a backhand. “But, if he is willing, I think I would like to train him.”

“What of Solfrid?” Volstag asked, without even showing signs of registering the old man’s blow.

“Solfrid is a great warrior,” Brynjar replied. “The best I have trained, but this one interests me. Regardless, Solfrid needs someone at her pace, maybe this one can be that for her. He is short compared to most of our warriors, but he has to have tenacity. Without it he would not have survived the night in that den.”

“If he is willing to stay,” Volstag said. “How did we fare this night, Nolson?”

“Not as bad as the other nights,” the medicine man replied. “There were some wounded, but none so bad that they won’t recover. We also didn’t lose anyone.”

“We’ve lost so many,” Volstag said, rubbing his long grizzly beard.

“Regret leaving the north?” Brynjar asked.

“No,” the warrior chief shook his head. “All life is struggle, if we can colonize this monstrous land then we have proven ourselves worthy of it.”

*** day 4 Santos ***

“To think that the waves are finally relenting,” I heard a voice say as my body began to wake. It seemed to belong to a woman.

At first I was disoriented, my body was incredibly sore and once my eyes came to focus I found myself in an unfamiliar place. There were bandages on my body and I was lying on some sort of leather atop what felt like straw. The place I was in looked akin to some tent made up of leather and cloth. It was large and housed several other men in different states of health lying in similar bedding.

“How is he today, Nolson?” another voice spoke up.

“Have you fallen for him Brynjar?” the same woman spoke. “He is all you mention since we found him.”

“Well?” the one named Brynjar seemed to have ignored her.

“Still sleeping,” Nolson replied. “You are more than welcome to check on him yourself. I see you brought Freet.”

“Well it wouldn't do if we can’t talk,” the other man responded.

“Gruh,” I grunted, raising myself from my bedding. I noticed I was missing my shirt and shoes, once I looked around I spotted my shoes close by, but not my shirt.

“Ah, looks like he’s finally awake,” the one named Brynjar said.

I looked around, my head dizzy, but slowly everything was coming back to focus and my mind was waking. I spotted the man before he got close to me, he was a tall one and I immediately recognized him from back in the den, the imposing figure and bald head marked with tattoos.

“Looks like you pulled through,” the man said. He extended a hand.

I wasn’t sure what he wanted, but I was not about to offend the man, they had after all treated me well, or so it seemed. I extended my own hand and he clasped mine pulling me up, I wasn’t expecting that and felt how my body groaned as sore muscles were exerted.

“Gugh,” I grimaced, but did not fall back, my legs managed to hold me up until I could get my footing.

“Lad you survived a hard night out there,” the man said. “Must have been tough.”

“The den?” I asked, my throat feeling parched.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Miztons are not known for being friendly so it is a surprise that you fought from within their den.”

“They were…*cough*...they were more worried about their cubs,” I stated, remembering the events of last night.

“Here,” a different man came up to me holding a wood mug. “Drink.”

I took it and felt life return to me even if it was just water.

The same man that gave me the mug started inspecting my body poking and prodding some sensitive spots.

“You seem well enough,” he said. “You can take him with you Brynjar, just don’t break him.”

“Haha!” the man laughed. “This one has the resilience of iron. If the last night couldn’t break him I doubt I can. Come, there is much I want to talk to you about, but first let me introduce to you to a big bird and my current student.”

*** Day 5 Maira ***

“How are you feeling?” Liliana asked, as she sat down next to me. I was on the rooftop overlooking the forest in the direction of the lake hoping to see Santos walking back to the house at any moment. It had already been three days since he had gone missing, it was getting harder and harder to cling onto hope that he would return and that only made me feel worse and worse.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Liliana is the only cousin my age

“Here,” she handed me a plate with small squares of boiled bamboo and some roasted meat that looked like chicken. “Moses and David came back with a bunch of ducks this morning. The kitchen is a total mess, but it's incredible how good those two are at hunting. Although, I could do without squirrels. I already had some of the duck, which is sooo much better.”

“At least I won't be starving on fish,” I whispered.

“What?” Liliana asked, she hadn’t heard me well.

“Nothing,” I shook my head, taking the plate from her hands. I picked at the food, the duck was actually very good. My appetite was gone, but if I didn’t eat my aunts would start bothering me and that was the last thing I wanted. At least if I tried to appear ok they’d let me be up here for a bit.

“I have good news,” she said pointing over towards the lake, several of the men and boys were working on clearing the trees that blocked the direct path towards the lake and were also working on digging into the ground and burying some tree trunks that had been cleaned of their branches. “I heard from my brother, Jorge, that uncle Juan is going to be building a shower by the lake. There where they are putting the posts is where it's going to be. Since the bamboo is hollow they are going to use them like pipes and the shower is going to be big enough for a lot of us to go in at a time. Unfortunately the water is still going to be super cold since there’s no heater for it.”

For a moment there wasn’t a word spoken, I couldn’t find the strength to talk.

“You know...,” Liliana said, getting close, giving me a hug. “No one wants to talk about a funeral or anything. I don’t think anyone has really given up on Santos, so they too don’t want to make it real in their hearts. Michael says that uncle Raphael has been going early in the morning to search for him, they see him coming back in the afternoon to help them cut down bamboo.”

My family has made sure that both Santos’ mom and I don’t wander away from the house, they say that it is for our own good and nothing good will come of us getting hurt out there or lost. If only they knew that not being able to do anything was hurting me more than anything.