In the early morning, a fine drizzle like threads of silk silently soaked the Swamp.
Sunlight stubbornly pierced through the curtain of rain, dyeing the distant, towering snow-capped peaks a dazzling golden hue, as though the gods had placed crowns of gold upon the mountains.
That light also clearly illuminated the open ground before the Rotten Moss Tribe's wooden palisade.
Quite a few Lizardfolk had already gathered at the tribe's entrance.
Semiya strapped a bundle of sharpened Bone Spears to her back, then turned her face to look at her younger sister, who was lowering her head to arrange the small leather pouch at her waist.
"Seja, are you really... not going to say goodbye to the envoy?"
Seja slowly shook her head.
"I won't, Sister."
Semiya did not press her. She merely nodded.
"That's fine. The rain is lighter now. We'll set out today. If we move quickly, we can enter the Hunting Ground below the snowline before the torrential rains completely seal off the mountains, then return to the sacred land and complete the ritual as soon as possible."
Seja nodded absentmindedly, but her gaze drifted toward the Swamp, as though she were thinking of something.
At that moment, the old priest Shazak slowly approached, leaning on a bone staff and surrounded by several young warriors.
The tribespeople behind him carried a stack of thick cloaks specially tanned, as well as several bundles of dried provisions that smelled of smoked fish and tubers.
"Semiya, Seja."
Shazak's aged voice carried the authority unique to a tribal priest, along with a trace of concern that was hard to detect.
"Thank you for everything you have done for the tribe."
"Take these. The wind and snow at high altitudes are far more frightening to Lizardfolk than the swamp's damp chill."
His