stands up, looking at me with a warm glow in her eyes. “I’d give you a medal if I could. A cash prize. Anything to show the gratitude of the tribe. But the only thing I can do is promise that everyone will know what you accomplished. Eventually. Thank you.”
She leaves, and Jennifer pours not-tequila into two cups. “You have to heat up from the inside, too.” She pushes one cup into my hand.
I look down at the dark liquid. “I’m not sure I’ll ever be warm on the inside again.”
“Tell me,” she says simply.
So I do, intending to be all analytical and distant about Brank’ox and me being over. But after thirty seconds, the floodgates open and I can’t close them again.
31
- Brank’ox -
In the morning it has stopped snowing, but the air is still cold.
That’s fine, it matches my mood perfectly. But not everything is lost. After my treasure turned sour, I needed a new plan. And now I have one.
The snow reaches up to my chest, but that only makes it hard to move, not impossible. If Dolly were here, she would be in great danger. It would be above her head, and she would not be able to move safely.
I slowly make my way towards the door, then spend a good while clearing the snow so it can actually open. Thankfully, the snow is not particularly heavy.
Outside, I find the right direction and start on the journey to my old tribe.
I soon learn how to use my arms and legs to make good progress, and after a while I reach areas of the jungle where it has snowed less and I can move faster.
I spend all that day just walking, then keep going when it turns out that the snow makes the jungle bright enough to travel by night. I’m not assaulted by any creature, and I don’t even see any. This is not the kind of weather the Bigs enjoy.
The next morning I reach my old village, the old landscape I grew up in totally transformed and made unfamiliar by the white masses. I shuffle through knee-deep snow to the middle of the village, where the totem pole proudly reaches towards the light blue sky.
It’s my old village, but it has changed. It doesn’t feel like it’s mine anymore.
Curious heads poke out of huts as I walk down the main trail to the chief’s house. I wonder who is Chief now.
I can hear movement inside.
“Greetings, Chief,” I call, making sure I’m heard by most of the tribe.
The door slowly opens, and Benen’ax stands there, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Brank’ox? Did the snow bring you?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “The snow and the cold and the wind.”
Benen’ax shudders. “The cold, yes. It’s warmer in here.” He holds the door open for me, and I duck inside.
It’s the old chief’s hut, larger than the others, but not necessarily different. There are the same weapons and interesting objects on the wall as last time I was here, the old artifacts that belonged to long-dead chiefs. But now I know what to look for, it’s obvious that the history of the tribe doesn’t stretch more than a century back in time.
In pride of place on the wall hangs the symbol of the chief’s position and dignity.
“I’m glad they made you the chief,” I state, sitting down on a hard bench, resting my legs for the first time in one whole day and night. “You were always a level-headed one.”
Benen’ax sits down himself, fatter and visibly older than last time I saw him, just a few months ago. “I was not the first choice, as I think you know, Brank’ox. Hopefully, my performance is adequate.”
“More than adequate, I’m sure. Is everything well with my old tribe?”
He yawns. “Much the same, I think. Not much change here. And how are you? The alien tribe not as good as you thought?”
I smile. “Much better than I ever dared hope, Benen’ax. There are many changes every day in that tribe.”
“Yes, you always needed change, didn’t you? I’m glad you found a tribe more to your liking. Why are you here?”
I stretch my legs out in front of me, enjoying the warmth in the hut. “The alien tribe is fighting the dragons. I want to do my part in that. Not just for them, but for everyone.”
“We have seen some dragons,” the chief says. “From a distance. They look like men, but they have a strange feeling to them. Like irox, dangerous and