Tales of The Primordial Dawn

The morning sun was just beginning to streak across the sky as we arrived back at the Wulani tribe. Our homes, made from fired clay bricks, were glistening in the sunlight, the early morning dew making them shine with a life of their own. The familiar sight brought comfort and relief, but what caught my attention was the reaction of our guests.

Silma's eyes widened as she took in the sight of our dwellings, her gaze studying each house with interest. She tilted her head, seeming to analyze the structure, the simplicity, and yet, the solid protection our homes provided.

The other Mayitans were no different. Vilthur and the other four seemed to be in awe, their eyes sweeping over the structures, clearly amazed by what they saw.

I turned to Silma, her expression one of fascination. "Would you like me to show you around our tribe?" I asked, my voice filled with pride.

Silma turned to me, her gaze still reflecting the amazement of what she'd just witnessed. "Yes, Tak," she agreed. "I would very much like that."

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face. I was eager to introduce them to the advancements we had made, to show them the possibilities that lay within their reach. Maybe it was my optimism speaking, but I truly believed this could be the beginning of something new, not just for us, but for them too.

I led Silma and the five Mayitans towards our dwellings. They were curious as they approached the building, their hands reaching out to touch the fired clay bricks that formed our homes.

Silma's fingers ran over the bricks, lightly tapping against them. A small smile played on her lips as she turned towards the other Mayitans, exchanging words in a language that was foreign to me. One of them responded, earning a nod from Silma.

"May we see the inside?" She asked, her gaze meeting mine.

"Of course," I responded, nodding in agreement. "Though, if we do, it might be better to go to my house."

Silma and the others followed me as I led them to my home. Its structure was similar to the others, but it had a few distinguishing features - a small window at the front, and a fireplace in the back.

As we entered, Silma's gaze roamed, taking in the new environment. She hesitated near the window, her brows furrowing as she peered through it. "What's the purpose of this?" She asked, her hand tracing the edges of the window.

"The window lets in light during the day and allows for air to flow inside," I explained, noting her curious expression.

"And that?" she pointed towards the fireplace, her face a mask of confusion.

"That's a fireplace," I said, a sense of pride seeping into my voice. "We use it for warmth during the winter and sometimes to cook our meals."

Silma listened, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the information. She looked around the dwelling once more, her gaze thoughtful. "It's... different," she finally said. "But I can see the appeal."

Silma's eyes flitted across the room, taking in the homely setup before her. "How did you create all this?" She asked, her gaze landing back on me.

I nodded, understanding her curiosity. "We use a mold to make the clay bricks," I started, explaining the process that had taken us countless hours to perfect. "Once the mold is filled with clay, we place it in the forge for them to harden."

Her eyes widened slightly at the explanation, her gaze moving to the walls of the dwelling. I could see the gears turning in her mind, trying to piece together the information.

"Once we have enough bricks, I create marks on the ground. These represent where I want to place the house and how large it should be," I continued, noting her attentive expression. "Then we begin laying the bricks, placing clay paste on top before settling the next set of bricks. We repeat this process until the walls are finished."

"And the fireplace?" She asked, pointing to the stone structure at the back of the room.

"That is also made from bricks. We create a space in the wall during the building process and continue it inside to form the fireplace," I said, motioning towards the fireplace.

Silma nodded slowly, clearly trying to take in the details of the construction process. "It sounds... complicated, but the result is quite remarkable," she admitted, a glimmer of admiration in her eyes.

I felt a surge of pride at her words. Our method of home building was indeed a complex process, but it was one that had transformed our way of life, providing us with more secure and comfortable dwellings. Her appreciation of our efforts brought a smile to my face.

"Yes, it is complicated," I agreed. "But it's worth it. And I believe your people could learn to do it too."

Her gaze met mine, a spark of determination in her eyes. "I think so too," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.

"Mak kani chi aqani qak ne'ga," Silma relayed to her companions, her voice steady and firm. Their alien words floated around me, their meanings just out of reach. I watched as Vilthur and the other Mayitans listened attentively, their expressions mirroring Silma's seriousness. Brelar, the burly, raven-haired man Silma pointed out earlier, wore a particularly keen expression.

Once they finished conversing, I spoke up. "Would you like to see our forge next?" I asked. Silma nodded, indicating that they were indeed interested, and said Brelar was particularly curious.

As I led them out of my home, a familiar figure ran up to us. Zulu, his hazel eyes wide with curiosity, skidded to a halt at the sight of the Mayitans. "Tak! How was...?" He started, his question trailing off as he spotted the unfamiliar faces. His gaze was transfixed on their tribal markings, his curiosity evident.

Silma smiled warmly at Zulu. "Who is this young one?" She asked.

"He's my younger brother, Zulu," I answered, laying a hand on his head. I could feel his excitement buzzing under my hand.

Zulu blinked up at Silma and the others, before blurting out, "Why do you have weird markings on your face?"

I stifled a chuckle at his blunt question, but I couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity myself.

Silma's smile widened. "It's a right of passage in our tribe," she explained, her gaze softening as she looked at my young brother. "The markings help identify our status and roles within the tribe."

"Zulu, this is Silma," I gestured to the Mayitan woman, whose presence was both striking and commanding. "She's the Chieftess of her tribe."

Zulu blinked up at Silma, his youthful face scrunching in thought before he broke into a wide grin. "Hello, Silma! What do they mean?" he asked, his eyes trailing over the intricate patterns of stripes adorning her face.

"These markings," she traced the lines on her face gently, "tell others that I am the Chieftess, while Vilthur here," Silma pointed at the raven-haired man that kept an intimidating presence. "His and others just like it show his status as an elder and a hunter." Silma pointed to Brelar who only had a single color stripe on his face. "Brelar here like many other only wears one pattern of a certain color. Showing that he is a hunter of our tribe." 

Zulu's eyes widened in awe. He turned to me excitedly. "Tak, we should do that too!"

Laughing, I ruffled his hair playfully. "That's not up to me, little brother."

His eyes sparked with determination. "When I'm chief, I'll make it happen. Finn would support me, and you would too, right?"

His innocent, eager words brought warmth to my heart, and a fond smile to my lips. "We'll see, Zulu," I responded, playing along with his dreams. It was a curious interest, but coming from my imaginative younger brother, it was to be expected.

"But now, where were you heading, Zulu?" I inquired, remembering his initial direction before he spotted us.

"Oh! I was going to chase away that wolf pup that keeps bothering the goats!" he declared, and without another word, he scampered off, leaving Silma, myself and the other Mayitans watching him with amusement.

Turning back to Silma and the others, I found Vilthur watching us with a thoughtful expression. It was a pit of a pity that the man couldn't understand us.

I led Silma and the Mayitans towards our tribe's forge. The structure, made from the same clay bricks that formed our homes, was an impressive sight to behold. Laid out in a circular pattern, it towered above us, the top fringed by a chimney that siphoned away the smoke from the burning fires within.

The morning sun filtered down on us as I led Silma and the Mayitans towards the source of rhythmic hammering - our tribe's forge. The structure, made from the same clay bricks that formed our homes, was an impressive sight to behold. Laid out in a circular pattern, it towered above us, the top fringed by a chimney that siphoned away the smoke from the burning fires within.

As we approached, the shape of Joran, our tribe's blacksmith, became clearer. His muscular form was outlined by the glow of the fire, his raven hair flowing loosely around his shoulders. He paused in his task to acknowledge us with a nod, the blue of his eyes vibrant even in the midst of the glowing forge.

"The forge," I began, gesturing at the structure before us, "is our way of controlling fire. We heat up clay bricks to form homes, tools... even melt copper."

"Copper the knife you showed before?" Silma's voice carried an intrigued tone, her gaze narrowing on the large chunks of copper scattered around the forge.

"Yes," I confirmed, "It requires some time to melt, but the result is worth it."

"How long does it take?" Silma probed, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames.

"That depends," I said, "First, Joran has to get the fire hot enough. Then, he places the copper into a clay box and lets it melt. Once it reaches the right consistency, he pours it into a mold to give it shape."

The Mayitans' gazes were glued to the forge, their expressions a mix of awe and curiosity. They conversed amongst themselves in their language, their tone filled with fascination. Even in the presence of our technological advancements, the cultural divide was evident.

"Our tools and weapons," I said, pulling out the copper knife I had made recently, "are made the same way. With fire and metal."

Silma reached out to touch the blade of the knife, her fingers lightly grazing over the hard, cool surface. "May we see this copper?" she asked, her eyes flicking back to the chunks of metal by the forge.

I nodded and walked over to a clay pot situated near the forge. I dug my hand in and pulled out a sizable chunk of copper, still in its raw form. Its irregular shape and oxidized greenish-brown surface bore little resemblance to the sleek blade of my knife. Holding it out for them to see, I gestured for them to take it.

One by one, the Mayitans passed the lump of copper around, their eyes wide with fascination as they took turns feeling its weight and studying its form. The expression of wonderment on their faces was clear. The fact that such an unimpressive lump of metal could be transformed into something as formidable and useful as a knife was not lost on them.

"What do you make of all this, Silma?" I asked, my gaze fixed on her as I gauged her reaction.

Her response was a pause, her eyes lingering on the piece of raw copper she held in her hand. Her face was a mix of fascination and uncertainty, but soon, an expression of awe and admiration replaced them.

"This... This is beyond anything I imagined," she confessed, her voice tinged with genuine amazement. She looked around at our clay houses, the forge, and the copper knife I held. "Your tribe has advanced so much more than ours. Your people live with comfort and safety that we've yet to achieve. The fire-brick houses, the forge, the copper tools... You've managed to shape your world in ways we've yet to think of."

She turned back to me, her eyes holding a glimmer of envy and respect. "Seeing all this, it makes me think," she said hesitantly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I can't help but feel that instead of attempting to recreate all this in our own tribe... it would be so much easier... perhaps even wiser to join your tribe."

Silma's words hovered in the air, a silent appeal hanging between us. I couldn't help but let a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Her admission, though startling, was not entirely unexpected. It was clear that she saw the potential in what we were doing and the advantages that it could bring her people. However, my smile faded as the weight of her words sunk in.

"I spoke to Vilthur about what you and Liora suggested," she continued, pulling me from my thoughts. Her gaze shifted to her people who were still engrossed in watching Joran's work at the forge. "I want to try it, but only if I can't convince the others to see things differently. "

I took a moment to gather my thoughts before responding. "It might be possible for a few of you to join us," I began cautiously, "but it's not entirely up to me. Mako and the other elders will have to agree."

Memories of Liora's words flashed in my mind. If Silma and I were to marry, Mako and the elders would likely have less to say on the matter.

"Would you like to see the rest of our tribe?" I asked, feeling an odd sense of pride as I extended the offer.

Silma's face lit up as she nodded eagerly. "I would love to."

Her enthusiasm was infectious. I gestured for her to follow me and began leading the way towards our fields upstream. As we walked, Silma's curious gaze roved over the surrounding landscape, and I couldn't help but watch her, fascinated by her reactions.

When we finally reached our fields, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. An intricate network of channels led from the river to the fields, the result of careful engineering that allowed water to flow naturally into the area, creating an irrigation system. The fields stretched out, a vibrant canvas of emerald and earth tones, rippling under the caress of the morning breeze. The abundant fields boasted of various crops: rows of tall corn stalks swayed gently, vibrant tomatoes and radishes nestled close to the earth, and clusters of berry bushes added a splash of color to the green expanse.

Our people moved about the fields, their hands wielding copper tools I helped forge. Items that could be used to make the work a bit easier.

Jara was in the middle of the field, tending to a tomato plant. Isha who was normally a scout was checking the radish plants. Both of them returned from the trip to the Mayitan tribe with us, but were already settling back into work. And amidst them was Maeve, running across the field with a small basket helping to pick corn that she was able to reach.

Many of the fields were still growing, the berries we planted would take more time to grow and produce berries for us to harvest. The various herbs my mother used to create herbal medicine had yet to show sight of being ready to harvest. These fields weren't large, but enough for us. Mako mentioned that we should expand them, and I'm beginning to think he is right.

Silma looked around, her eyes wide with wonder. "This is amazing," she murmured, looking at me with an appreciative smile. "You grow your own food."

I nodded, feeling an odd sense of pride at her words. "Yes, we do. It's hard work, but the reward is worth it."

As she continued to take in the sight, I couldn't help but feel proud. 

We continued our tour, with me leading Silma and her tribe towards the small pen nestled at the edge of the settlement. The bleating of goats greeted us, their curious eyes peering out from the enclosed space. Within the pen, three goats ambled around, one of them bearing the telltale signs of impending motherhood, her belly round and heavy.

"These are our goats," I introduced, pointing towards the animals, "One of them is pregnant. She should have a kid anytime now."

Silma's eyes widened at the news, a soft smile curling on her lips as she looked at the pregnant goat. She then turned her attention towards her tribe, speaking in their tongue, a fluid, rhythmic language that I could not understand. Her tribe nodded, murmuring their thoughts among themselves.

After a while, Silma turned back to me, her face etched with curiosity. "My tribe has some questions," she began, her eyes reflecting her people's curiosity.

"Ask away," I responded, eager to answer.

Silma rattled off a series of questions. They were curious about the forge and copper tools, about the irrigation system and crops, and even the goats. They asked how we found the copper, how we made the forge, how we decided which crops to plant, and how we managed to domesticate the goats.

I answered as best as I could, explaining the trial and error behind each creation. Minor errors due to my lack of expert-building skills. I explained that it took time to improve, and talking to the others about them. That adapting to it was not instant, and everyone had their own worries and questions about anything that did not have a quick outcome. Such as the fields or the animals.