Tales of The Primordial Dawn

As the sun began its descent, the day's labors bore fruit. I'd sketched out the designs for our new storage facility and granary, both conveniently located near the Elder's Hall. I envisaged a spacious storage area with dual entrances for ease of access. It needed to be large enough to store a variety of raw materials—wood, metals, clay—anything that could be put to use in our craftwork and construction.

For the granary, I'd decided on an elevated structure. It would be more difficult to build, requiring compacted dirt and steps, but the benefits outweighed the effort.

My younger brother, Zulu, approached me with curiosity lighting up his face. "What are we doing next, Tak?" he asked, a familiar eagerness in his voice.

"I need you to grab some of the fired clay bricks we have left and lay them out," I instructed, pointing to the outlined area. "Don't use the clay paste just yet."

"Why?" His brows furrowed in confusion.

"We'll build it up later," I assured him. "For now, I just want to mark out where we'll start." The idea seemed to satisfy him, and he nodded in understanding.

"Thanks, Zulu," I said gratefully, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll help you once I've seen Mako."

"Another one of your ideas?" Zulu asked, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"Something like that," I responded with a small grin. "This time, it's about expanding our fields."

Acknowledging my plan with another nod, Zulu moved off to start with the bricks. Watching him go, I turned towards the Elder's Hall where I knew Mako would be.

As I stepped into the Elder's Hall, my eyes met the warm glow of the fireplace, flickering in the spacious room built of fired clay bricks. The soft light spilled over rustic shelves lined with clay pots, square platforms to sit on, and animal fur rugs. At one end of the room, near one of the two windows, Mako sat engrossed in sharpening a wooden stick with a sharp rock.

Noticing me, he paused his work and gazed up, his cool brown eyes meeting mine. "Is there something wrong, Tak?" he asked, scrutinizing my expression.

"No," I replied, moving further into the room. Mako nodded, gesturing for me to take a seat opposite him. I complied, easing down onto a platform.

"Why have you come to see me?" Mako inquired, his sharpening stone lying idle in his hand. His face was marked by a few scars, testaments to his wisdom and experience, but his demeanor was calm.

"I wanted to discuss our plans to expand the fields," I started, remembering the conversation we'd had some time ago.

"Ah, yes," Mako said, nodding. "I remember. I've already spoken with Rasha about it."

"Is she doing alright?" I couldn't help but ask, my concern for her health evident in my tone.

Mako nodded, "She's well."

"That's good," I sighed in relief. "I thought she was going to take up the role of spiritual guide for the tribe."

"She did mention that," Mako agreed, "But our people already have a strong belief in our ancestors, and there aren't many young ones to teach. So she's helping in other ways."

"I see," I acknowledged, understanding her decision. Then I took a deep breath before my next question, "Can I help with the field expansion?"

"You've already done so much, Tak," Mako said gently. "You don't need to overwork yourself."

"I want to help," I insisted. I felt that there was much more work to be done.

Mako chuckled lightly, "It's not a huge task, Tak. We don't need to expand the fields by much."

I frowned at his words, shaking my head. "I think you're wrong, Mako."

He looked taken aback, his brow furrowing as he stared at me.

"Mako, you're thinking in terms of our current population," I began, taking a different approach. "I believe we should plan for the future. We should consider expanding the fields with the idea of feeding a larger population."

Mako leaned back, his arms crossing over his chest. "We have enough people in our tribe as it is, Tak," he stated, his voice firm. "If and when more children are born, we can discuss increasing the fields."

"Think back to when we encountered the Mayitans," I implored, "One of the reasons we couldn't accept all of them into our tribe, aside from potential internal conflicts, was the shortage of food. We couldn't sustain such a drastic increase in numbers."

Mako nodded, conceding the point. "Yes, that was an issue."

"If we plan our field expansion with a larger population in mind, we'll be more equipped to handle population growth," I argued, my words a gentle push against his resistance. "That way, the size of our tribe will not be limited by our food supply."

Mako rubbed his beard thoughtfully, considering my words. But then he sighed, shaking his head. "Tak, we don't have the manpower for such a large expansion. Everyone is already occupied with their existing roles."

"But the extra work wouldn't be that much, Mako. The small expansion you're thinking of won't add much more work to those already cultivating the fields, agreed. But if we could just gather a few more hands..."

"Enough, Tak." Mako's voice sliced through the air, bringing me to a halt. His gaze was stern, his tone final. "I appreciate your enthusiasm and your foresight, but we must also consider our present circumstances."

"I understand that, Mako," I said, my tone steady. "But I believe our present circumstances can and should be moulded with the future in mind."

The room fell silent. Mako studied me, his eyes narrowing slightly. He was listening, but he was also questioning.

"Mako," I began again, hoping the determination in my voice would convince him to reconsider. "If we can't expand the fields to the extent I'm suggesting, can we at least think about...waste collection?"

Mako's eyebrows shot up. "Waste? You mean..."

I nodded, quickly clarifying, "Yes, when we go to the forest to...relieve ourselves."

His face contorted in disgust. "And you want to do what with it? Play in it?"

"No, Mako!" I exclaimed, horrified at the thought. "I want us to collect it in a designated pit. And then, we could use it in the fields."

His face went from disgust to pure horror. "You want us to spread our waste on our food? Tak, that is possibly the worst idea you have ever come up with!"

"I know it sounds awful, Mako," I tried to explain, but he held up a hand, silencing me.

"I don't want to hear anymore, Tak," Mako said, his voice stern and his gaze hard. "It's clear to me that this is a terrible idea. I’m beginning to question if the ancestors haven’t retracted their blessing from you."

I swallowed hard at his words, stung by his blunt dismissal. I had hoped Mako would see the reason in my suggestions. But it was clear that these concepts were too radical, too removed from their current understanding of the world.

As I left the elder's hall, my mind was a whirlpool of thoughts. The encounter with Mako had left me confused and somewhat hurt. After all the successful ventures I'd spearheaded for the tribe, it was baffling that he was now against my ideas. Had I done something wrong? Had I pushed too far too fast?

Lost in thought, I noticed my mother, Aisling, moving through the tribe. Maybe she'd have some answers. I moved towards her, her fiery red hair a beacon against the soft evening light. She was carrying a small basket, her weathered hands firmly holding it.

"Mother," I called out to her as I approached. Her emerald eyes met mine, her gaze softening at the sight of me.

"Tak," she responded, her voice filled with warmth. "What brings you here?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to frame my thoughts. "Have you noticed a change in Mako?" I asked finally, deciding to be straightforward.

Aisling paused for a moment before answering, her gaze thoughtful. "In what way, Tak?"

"He's... he's been more resistant to my ideas recently," I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.

Aisling sighed softly. "Mako is under a lot of pressure, Tak. With the return of the captive Wulani women, people have started questioning his leadership."

"Why would they question Mako's leadership?" I asked, struggling to understand. "The women were returned, and we avoided a bloodshed. Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes, it is," my mother agreed, "but some of the Wulani are angry. They wanted revenge for their people who were harmed. And they feel it was not given."

A sigh escaped me. I hadn't thought about that. My focus had always been on achieving peace, not on the possible repercussions of avoiding a fight. "So, because we didn't get our hands dirty, they're questioning Mako's leadership?"

Aisling nodded. "That's what Kiera told me. Some of the Wulani have expressed their discontent."

"But Silma and her group of Mayitans only left yesterday," I pointed out, confusion lacing my words. "Why is this suddenly a problem?"

My mother sighed, her gaze steady on mine. "It's the way of the Wulani, Tak," she explained. "They have a different way of seeing things. They've always been more... confrontational."

I frowned at her words. "But that's not who we are," I said, my voice filled with determination.

Aisling smiled softly, her hand reaching out to brush my cheek. "No, it's not. We are Ashaya. But we must remember, we're now sharing our lives with the Wulani. And their ways are not ours."

Struggling with the reality of my mother's words, I found myself grappling for a solution. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked, my heart heavy with worry.

Aisling shook her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. "This isn't your burden to carry, Tak," she reassured me. "The elders will discuss how to handle this. We have always found a way to navigate through our problems. This time will be no different."

"But I want to help," I protested. "If there's anything I can..."

"You've already done so much for us, Tak," she interrupted gently, a warm pride glowing in her eyes. "You've brought innovative ideas and change."

I smiled at her words, my heart swelling with gratitude. My mother always knew how to put things into perspective.

"But you should also focus on your own things, Tak," she added, giving me a knowing look. "Like that home you were going to build. Remember?"

A laugh bubbled up from my throat. "Yes, the home. I haven't forgotten," I assured her.

She gave me an approving nod. "Good. It's important to find a balance between helping others and taking care of your own needs."

I nodded, understanding the wisdom behind her words. "I'll keep that in mind."

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, the warm glow of the evening sun painting a beautiful picture around us.

"Promise me, Tak," my mother broke the silence, her voice soft and laced with emotion. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll always stay true to who you are. Your beliefs, your values, your thoughts... they're what makes you special. Don't let that change."

I looked at her, surprised by her words. But as I saw the sincerity in her eyes, I understood what she meant. And I made a promise.

"I promise, Mother," I replied solemnly, my voice steady and firm. "I'll stay true to who I am."

Aisling smiled, her eyes twinkling with unshed tears. "That's all I ask for, my dear."