Tribal Council

"Go outside the tent and take five lashes yourself!"

Chichica's expression was vicious as he barked in a low voice. Draped in a wolf robe, he sat cross-legged in the broad main tent, with the tribal chiefs seated in circles on either side. The tribal council was in session, every chief taking part, deciding the future of the Guachichil alliance. The Red Dog chief wore a long crown of eagle feathers and sat at the head on an American Bison-hide blanket. Behind him was the dried skull of a great bison.

The American Bison was the largest land beast of the northern wasteland, and even of the entire continent. It stood nearly two meters tall, weighed as much as a ton, ran with extreme speed, and had a violent, irritable nature, fiercely combative and dangerous. Every tribe of the wasteland regarded killing a bison as a symbol of valor. This bison had been Chichica's prey in his youth; he had cut off its head with his own hands and made it into a trophy. Now the enormous head stood in the main tent, displaying the chief's fearlessness and courage, and proclaiming his unquestioned status as leader.

Uman tore off the cotton armor from his upper body, bared his torso, and strode out of the tent to receive his punishment. He clenched his teeth hard and said nothing, letting another bodyguard lash him with all his strength. The whip fell with a piercing crack, leaving bloody marks cut into flesh. In an instant, dense beads of sweat sprang out across Uman's forehead. After taking the punishment, he still gritted his teeth, carried the wounds on his back, walked back into the main tent, and dropped to his knees before the chief.

"Uman, do you know your fault?"

Chichica looked at the