can practically feel the animosity rolling off him, a low growl rumbling from his chest. There’s a moment where I see the chief of the tribe write me off as unthreatening, as just a little girl, and the corner of his mouth twitches up.
Oh, really? My anger awakens, and I make a decision. It’s not part of the plan, in fact it’s so far off of the plan, I’m probably breaking about five hundred tribe rules, but Tor told me I needed to show them I’m strong, that I belong here. I’m not going to fight them, I know I wouldn’t win, not against someone like him, but I won’t back down against a bully. Stopping in my tracks, I turn and stare at the tribesman. Tor instantly halts at my side, not asking any questions at my deviation of the plan. He simply crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at anyone who would dare look in our direction. I pity anybody who ends up on the receiving end of that scowl.
Realising something is happening, the chief of the painted tribe looks back up, and a flash of shock crosses his features before he glares at me again. His gaze briefly flicks to Tor as if assessing him as a threat, but it quickly returns to me, which surprises me. If you were to ask me who was more threatening just by looking at us, Tor or me, I would pick the towering mountain man. Which means he’s going on more than just physical appearances. Although I’d love to place my hands on my hips and give him a meaningful look, I simply hold his gaze. The sound of shuffling feet and muttering voices reverberate around us, and I know we’re making people nervous, but I keep holding the chief’s gaze. Something changes then as he tilts his head to one side with a pondering expression on his face. He still hates me, that much is clear, but I’ve surprised him. The corner of my mouth flicks up in a semblance of a smile as I spin on my heel and start walking towards the meeting place once more.
People are gathered in groups on either side of the path, so I can’t quite see the stones yet, but above their heads, I can view the large tents that are erected to the side of them. I hear the crackling of the fire now, and as we get closer, I see the familiar faces of the tribespeople who reside here permanently and care for the sacred place. As I follow the curved path around, the tall, pillar-like stones come into sight. They stand in a circle, covered in carvings with sacred stories and teachings of the tribes’ histories, and in the center is a large fire. Beyond the stones, the rock falls away, revealing a view of the rest of the mountains. It’s beautiful, and even though I’ve seen it several times now, it never fails to take my breath away.
Standing in front of the fire, dressed in an outfit similar to mine but ten times more ornate and covered in feathers, is my aunt. She’s wearing a headdress made of antlers, feathers, and what looks like fangs from an animal. Her arms are mostly bare to show off her tattoos, except for leather straps wrapped in complicated knots at the top of both arms. Her cape, like mine, is decorative, but from what I can see, hers is far longer, extending back and draping on the ground. On either side of her stand a group of tribespeople of varying ages, but they all hold themselves in the same way. They’re the chiefs, I realise, my eyes flicking over them, doing a quick mental count. Tor informed me that there were twelve official tribes, and including Revna, there are eleven chiefs before me all watching me with varying levels of interest.
The painted chief chose not to stand with the others, I muse, my gaze taking in the hungry expressions of a few of the chiefs. Was he protesting against me, or slighting the others? I wonder, covering the last couple of steps until I’m just before Revna. Kneeling, I lift my right fist and cross it over my chest to my left shoulder in a show of respect, bowing my head. Although I would never usually greet her this way, Tor explained I have to show that I can follow their rules and protocols, that I respect how they do