For the distance of one final lamp-hour, Blade Tusk no longer led the Moose onward. They had come this far; there was no need to keep "sharing sweetness and bitterness" together.
So he mounted the tall, powerful Moose leader and rode at the very front of the procession, magnificent and imposing.
"Report!!! The Finae Tribe has assembled at the tribe entrance!"
"Good! Scout again, report again!"
"Report!! Finae Tribe hunters spotted two hundred meters ahead!"
"Drive them away!"
Amid the scouts' constant comings and goings, the boundary between dimness and light finally lay close at hand. They had reached the "end" of the forest.
Around the outskirts of the Finae Tribe was a "treeless zone" roughly seventy or eighty meters across.
At that moment, Chieftain Finae led nearly all the warriors, their eager, bloodthirsty gazes fixed upon the forest ahead.
That was where the Tusk Tribe would soon appear.
Beside him stood a somewhat stooped elder. Unlike the warriors, whose eyes generally burned with battle spirit, his own were filled with worry.
"Daba, this, dangerous. Tusk Tribe, strong. Warriors, go forest, ambush, win." The Old Witch Doctor had no idea how many times he had already offered this warning.
"No. Tusk Tribe notified us. Tusk Tribe follows rules; Finae also follows rules."
Clearly, the chieftain he had raised with his own hands was a stubborn fellow, and the Old Witch Doctor's painstaking persuasion had once again fallen on deaf ears.
Whether competing for hunting grounds or simply testing martial prowess, it had always been an unwritten rule among the tribes of the Black Forest that challengers would notify their opponents in advance, while those challenged would gather and wait.
Thus, Daba's decision was not actually improper. On the contrary, it was conduct worthy of praise.
But perhaps this fool