10. Epilogue

Dawn arrived. Sinthia—Murfa’s wife—came by to say everyone had left.

Kesho and his parents were the only people from Asha to stay behind.

“Why didn’t anybody tell us?” Farshar said, voice nearly gone. “Wait. We must … we must bury our daughter.”

Sinthia looked sympathetic, but her words were clear. “We are leaving and we do not want you to follow. The soul of Asha—a peaceful tribe that cooperates—does not live in you or your children. Child.”

Farshar came alive and grabbed Sinthia by her neck. Helera pushed them apart.

“As I said,” Sinthia said, after which she turned and left.

The family could only watch how the remainder of the tribe, a handful of different creatures, left through a tiny hole in the fence.

Kesho watched them for a while, sitting on top of the sturdiest hut he could find. He could oversee most of the forest, until he found what he was looking for.

Some members of the Jagu Tribe had fled in time. Not many, as far as he could tell.

Those murderous tribes Jagu talked about? They surely weren’t there.

They weren’t there when Jagu said it, dear reader, but now they were. News of this event spread. The Jagu Tribe promised revenge. They even merged their tribe with Asha to do so: alone they were too weak, but together they were strong. The other tribes were wanted and told to create weapons, just to be sure. Who knows, maybe the Farshar Tribe would swing by tomorrow to kill you all.

The entire territory was littered with dead bodies. The fires had transformed into large rings of ash and burned plant remains. Arrows erupted from tree trunks as if porcupines grew inside.

But they couldn’t leave anymore. Out there it would be much too dangerous for them now. So they tried to bury each fallen animal and repair the territory as well as they could.

Kesho hadn’t reacted or spoken in three days, so his father looked for him.

“You think it’s your fault, don’t you?” Farshar waited until his son looked at him.

“It is my fault.”

“You did the right thing,” he said calmly, as if he spoke of some minor decision like picking the best feathers for your necklace. “Killing a Gosti—your friend—and offering it to us as food … it’s monstrous. If we’d accepted that, they’d have done something even worse next time. You drew a line. We should’ve drawn it much sooner.”

“Drew a line?” Kesho looked away. “Thanks to me more than fifty animals died! And you … and you …”

“That’s nature, son. Whoever attacks first has the advantage. You could only kill Jagu because you had the element of surprise.”

“I didn’t want to. Misha probably didn’t want to.”

“Your instinct wanted it. You don’t know if the other would attack. You couldn’t figure out, after days and days, if the Jagu Tribe were good or bad. So you be sure and attack first.”

Kesho wasn’t convinced. He studied the food storages, also broken down. Not during the fight; Ardex had visited once more to steal all the magical diamonds.

“As soon as they attacked at full power …” Farshar looked away, eyes glassy, as if the entire night replayed in his head. “We had to defend ourselves. We had no choice.”

We had no choice. It sounded like an excuse, and yet it felt true. Kesho surely repeated it often enough to calm himself with the thought.

Once Ardex had collected all he wanted, he said goodbye to the family.

“Will you punish us?” Farshar said defiantly. “Or are we your heroes, oh great God of Death?”

“Neither,” Ardex said. “It has become apparent to me … that even if I do nothing, I still do something.”

They frowned at him.

“Even if I don’t interfere, my mere presence influences you. I come close and animals get the overwhelming desire to kill or destroy something. Some animals … who somehow have a stronger connection to me … are a little more perceptive than others.”

He shook his fur and stored the diamonds between his flaming teeth, as if that was clearly the best place to keep them.

“No existence without consequences, no peace without war.”

Ardex walked away. “I have to think about this. Perhaps you’ll see me again, perhaps not.”

With the food storages gone, they couldn’t stay here. They were still hunters and gatherers—and this area was plucked bare long ago. Leaving was especially hard when it felt like leaving his sister behind for good.

They quickly ate whatever they could and then continued on their path. A path into the heart of those murderous tribes who were now afraid of them and preparing weapons. The Asha were long gone and would never let them back.

They left the place with no more than a few tools and weapons, wrapped in animal hides strapped to their back.

As Kesho looked over his shoulder one last time, he saw a red panda. Somehow, its appearance made all the doubts and intruding thoughts come back. Almost as if this was another god, who had the opposite influence to Ardex.

He could have reacted differently—but he didn’t know how.

Did they really have no choice? Was all life doomed to fight and kill for their own survival? Where Gosti doomed to see everything as danger and competition? Must murder be answered with murder, betrayal answered by vengeance?

Or were they too dumb and too blind to see any other option?

And so it was that life continued …