When the Shaman and Blackfist emerged from the tent after almost an hour, the horses and the other two soldiers were brought into the peace tent so they could be purified before being allowed into the camp proper. As the one called Blackfist joined the circle of warriors, the Shaman lifted his staff and spoke quickly in the farspeaker’s native language. The warriors dispersed, Amien gathering up the Franklins before guiding them back to her tent.

“Horn calls, we go, is so?”

“When they blow the horn again we go with you?” Clark clarified.

“Is so.” She said with a nod. She seemed excited to Clark as he watched her bustle about the campsite, packing away anything unnecessary and preparing a smoke box for much of the meat they had caught on their earlier expedition.

Howard returned to his music making as Clark cleaned up their part of the camp and helped Amien prepare the meats. It didn’t take long, perhaps another hour, before the horn call bleated out again across the encampment. This time nobody ran, but nearly everyone gathered near the center where there was a clear space just for these kind of purposes. The warriors were gathered together in a cluster around Maikun, but Amien did not join them. Instead she stood tall, off to one side, watching the Shaman and Blackfist in the center of the gathering space. The shaman raised a hand for silence and a hush fell immediately. He spoke for several long moments in the farspeakers’ tongue. Uneasy glances were exchanged between some of the farspeakers, a manic light flared to life in Amien’s blue eyes.

After a long speech, the Shaman gestured toward Blackfist. The orckin inclined his head toward the Shaman before speaking. “Thank you, Shaman, for your words. As he said, we must learn more about the Wild Weaves. Therefore we will be sending an expedition to Hymaera. Who would volunteer?”

“Hymaera?” Clark wondered as he looked over the sea of faces. All of them seemed uneasy now. All except Amien, her fist shot into the air with a bellowed warcry that made many of those around her jump.

She spoke loudly in the language of the farspeakers, then said. “I go. I face Outlands.”

Howard and Clark exchanged a glance before Clark nodded reluctantly and both Franklins raised their fists in the air. “Reckon we ain’ gonna let ‘er go by ‘erself.” Clark said.

“Yep.” Was all Howard added.

The Shaman looked over his people with a frown, his vibrant green gaze lingering on a few of the warriors who slightly shook their heads before he moved on. Finally the Shaman himself shook his head, his eyes almost sad as he looked to Ulresh. The sturdy orckin shrugged. “You will come with us to the capital. There we will gather troops and supplies before you begin your journey.”

“Is time?” Amien asked, suddenly looking reluctant.

“Is so. Prepare better.” The Shaman answered.

Amien nodded only once. “When?”

The Shaman glanced at Ulresh. “Dawn.” Blackfist answered.

Again she nodded.

The crowd broke up quickly the farspeakers returning to their individual campsites or perhaps joining those of a friends. Amien and the Franklins joined no others. The farspeaker seemed troubled by the time they reached the campfire. Clark rummaged through his pack as Howard set up his bedroll. “It’s early yet.” Clark observed.

“Reckon tomorrow’ll be a long day.” Howard answered, laying back with his head on the saddle and his hat over his eyes..

“Spose that’s true.”

Amien was silent as she stared into the fire for a long moment finally she asked. “Are cowards?”

Howard lifted his head and used one finger to raise the brim of his hat so he could see her. “Reckon not.” He answered at length. “Some folks ain’ lookin’ to risk their lives. Even for somethin’ like this, I reckon.”

“Outlands bad. Wild Weaves bad.” Amien explained. “Hymaera? Badder Still. Cowards.”

Howard shook his head, but it was Clark who spoke this time. “Miss Amien, ain’ nothing wrong with folk who ain’ looking to fight in a war. Not everybody’s a warrior.” He sat next to the fire and picked up a stick. “Somes got to be warriors, don’ get me wrong. But a warrior ain’ a warrior with nothing at home. You understand?”

She looked puzzled for a moment, looking out over the camp that surrounded them. “I think see.” She said at last. “Tribe need hunters, herders. Not just fight.”

Howard put his hat back over his eyes and settled against the saddle once more. “Reckon that’s the way of it.”

“If there’s no home to come home to, what’re you fighting for?” Clark mused as he stirred the fire with his stick.

Her eyes were bright in the firelight as she watched him. “Everything.” She said at last.