The Tribe's Jungle

The sun rose and the moon set, day and night turning in their cycle, and several days hurried by. The beasts of the jungle went mad with hunger, only to be caught by hunters even hungrier than they were, turned into food in their bellies, satisfying the cravings of starvation.

Night lay deep, and bonfires burned throughout Hand-Snake City, yet the wind was filled with quiet. The tribal warriors were so hungry their guts gnawed at them, and could only go to sleep early, hoping to eat their fill in dreams. At the center of the small city stood Chief Chimali's great tent, along with a shield-banner passed down through the tribe, fluttering silently in the night wind.

Tonight, there were no guards outside the chief's great tent. Looking toward it from afar, one could see the bright bonfire. The fire cast two seated silhouettes onto the tent curtain. The two sat facing each other without a word, with deathly silence between them. If one listened carefully, there was only the rushing of the night wind pouring in from the crown of the sky, the crackle of the burning fire, and the almost inaudible sound of flowing water.

After a long while, one silhouette finally slowly knelt and bowed to the ground. Elder Malina's eyes were full of tears, and he wept so hard he could barely speak.

"Elder brother, the tribe has fallen into a desperate strait and has no choice but to decide! The Northern Kingdom is extraordinarily powerful, with elite warriors numbering in the tens of thousands, and it has come with the resolve to conquer. That is a force the Tecos cannot resist. Before the mighty kingdom, the tribes of Colima in the west can only defend themselves. But they are just as greedy, beasts that