For as long as Grak can remember, he’s always hated packing day. But in a different way than he’s used to. This contempt is simpler. “Childlike,” he calls it. Though Grak is careful to clarify that he’s not making any implications about his maturity level.
No, he’s just referring to the uncomplicated nature of this aversion. Noise, chaos, and tiring labor are all high on his list, and this day invariably provides an abundance of each. It’s as straightforward as that.
Well, almost. There’s also the looming threat that once the day ends, an even deeper agony sets in: traveling. It possesses all the miseries of packing day, but amplified and over an extended period of time. “Who wouldn’t despise it?” he tells Doran whenever the topic comes to mind.
And in many ways, this packing day is shaping up to be Grak’s worst ever. The perpetual complaining and rampant lethargy are weighing on him to no end. It seems he can’t go more than a moment without someone grumbling about lacking “strength” or “feeling in their limbs.” And while Grak has tolerated the charade so far, it now portends to slow the tribe’s travel—a risk he’s unwilling to take.
Thus, he’s made it a point to loudly and publicly shame anyone he catches slacking off. Of course, this requires greater effort on Grak’s part, which is clearly less than ideal.
But there’s no avoiding it. A ‘necessary duty,’ I’d say. Just part of leading the tribe: forfeiting energy and time for the betterment of all.
He is dreading, however, that this increase in work could end up stretching late into the night. If that occurs, it would rule out his final chance at a hot spring dip until they pass this way again in the next heats. And it goes without saying that he intends to avoid that outcome by any means necessary.
Still, despite his many hardships, Grak is trying to be positive about his situation. In fact, he’s even found a few minor details about this packing day that make it “less awful” than previous ones. Doran’s generous exaltations, for example. And Brak and Loren’s increased appreciation as well. In fact, Grak has even noticed a resulting improvement in the tribe’s perception of him.
Though I imagine my superior leadership at the shore yesterday is what brought that about. And it’s about time they appreciated my true value. Long overdue, I say.
Better yet, Grak’s new recognition has earned him some authority in the day’s duties. He hasn’t even been asked to carry anything yet. All he’s had to do is stand here in a decisive manner with his hands on his hips. “My leader posture,” he calls it, and none have refuted him.
To the contrary, people have been flocking, requesting direction. And while Grak generally doesn’t know what response to give them, he’s found that asking for their opinion does the trick. They give it, then he confirms the plan and gets the credit. It’s a resounding win for him. Like a double win, really.
I’m not being lazy, though. Just haven’t had the chance to do anything else. If anyone thinks I’m being lazy, then they’re just ignorant. And uncouth. After all, I’m obviously working hard at leading.
“Grak, where should I put this?” Loren sets down the barrel, then tightens the harness strapping Olive Fifty-three to her back. The child peers over her shoulder and locks eyes with him.
There’s the blank stare again. Dead stare, really.
Grak shudders. He shuffles away from the youth, leaning down to inspect the cask as a disguise for his actions.
“Well, I think that would depend on what’s in it, don’t you?” Grak grins as he glances up at Loren.
Her stern look and firm ears reveal that his playful wit was lost on her. “It’s—”
She’s interrupted by Grak’s sudden recoiling. The smell is unmistakable, even through the barrel. “Never mind. Clearly olives.”
Loren nods. “Yes. So where’s the food cart?”
“I suppose it might be that cart there. The one with all the deer carcasses.” Grak adds a smile, certain this one should get a laugh. Still nothing. He’s getting annoyed by everyone’s poor sense of humor today.
“Ah, there it is. Thanks.” Loren hoists the drum onto her shoulder and turns in the appropriate direction.
“Actually. Wait for just a moment, would you, Loren?” Grak holds a hand to his mouth while resting the other on his hip. This is another posture he came up with today as a means of showing how hard he’s thinking.
Every time we travel, olives end up sloshing around and spilling on the normal food. And then every meal stinks like the awful things for days after. So what other options do we have available?
“Yes, Grak? Do you need something else from me?” She sounds impatient.
Grak has been noticing that in a number of his people today, and it’s growing irritating. He decides to convey displeasure in his voice. “Just give me a moment, please.” That should calm her down.
So what other carts have room? I suppose that depends.
He softens his tone with a dash of mercy. “How many barrels do we have? Of olives?”
“Eh … five … I think.” Her voice is oddly shaky.
Hmm, a change in tone. I wonder why. Is she hiding something? Is she questioning her support? Can’t risk that right now. Best to rein her in before it’s too late.
“You think? We need to be certain, Loren.” He didn’t want to, but was forced to add a healthy amount of disappointment there.
She sets down the barrel with a loud huff. “Sorry. Let me think.” That chiding must have done the trick; the tremor in her voice has receded. “Yes, five. There are definitely five barrels.”
Grak smiles in the most comforting way he can manage. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” While he’s annoyed at the waste of time, he takes comfort in knowing that the woman learned a valuable lesson.
He takes up the thinking posture again. “Alright, yes. That should fit perfectly with Jafra’s things. She’s been designated to that cart over there. Next to the large rut.”
Loren looks confused. “You mean where Sando’s sitting? Or the one with rotted wood?”
Grak is surprised he didn’t notice the man. And embarrassed that someone could be slacking off right under his nose. And furious since he’s already warned Sando about this twice today. He’s tempted to take action immediately.
No. Best to wait for Loren to leave. Don’t want anyone jumping to defend the lazy, decrepit twit like earlier.
“Yes. The one with rotted wood.” He’s careful not to add pleasantries, lest it charm her into lingering.
And it works. She gives a slight nod before picking up the barrel once more. Without another word, she strolls over to the cart and unloads her burden.
But to his dismay, she follows this with a slow, elaborate stretch that Grak finds unnecessary. Still, it doesn’t last too long. And after a dawdling check of the harness knot, Loren finally heads back the way she came.
Grak takes a deep breath, thankful that his patience held out. Now, with all obstacles to his leading eliminated, he heads over to confront Sando, gathering his anger along the way.
I swear, this dullard takes more of my time than the remainder of the tribe combined. Some people think they can get away with anything. Laziness just comes naturally to them!
Not me, though. Even when it looks like I’m not working, I’m still hard at it.
As Grak draws near, Sando spots him approaching. The man sways to his feet, then begins rummaging through some nearby sacks.
“Sando! Still with the sacks? How long ago did I give you this task? And you’re still not finished? If I have to tell you one more time …” Grak suddenly realizes he doesn’t know how to follow that up. “I’ll be very displeased.”
Grak’s quick thinking discerns that the man might assume this moment lacks disapproval. “Even more displeased than I am now. I’m upset now … but my level of anger … it’ll be much higher.” Not quite enough deprecation yet. “If you don’t load those this instant!” Yes, now he’s satisfied.
Sando rubs his wispy, white hair. “I’m sorry. I felt faint for a moment, but I’m better now. It won’t happen again. Please, forgive me.”
“That excuse again? You can’t even be bothered to come up with something better? Well, you’re right, it won’t happen anymore!”
Grak looks around for the nearest person. “Zacha! Come here!” She wouldn’t be his first choice, but no other option is close enough at the moment.
It’s the woman’s wide mouth that troubles Grak. Always has, ever since he was a boy. “Greater inclination toward biting,” was his reasoning. And while the fear dissipated over time, he still feels uneasy around her.
Though, I suppose if I keep enough distance, all should be fine.
Unfortunately, the woman is approaching at a speed just slower than he’d like. Still, he’s learned to limit the number of people feeling his wrath at any given time. Otherwise it just gets too tiring. So he waits. Patiently. At last, she arrives.
Grak swallows his annoyance toward her and takes a subtle step back. “Zacha, I need you to work with Sando for the rest of the day. Keep him busy. If he tries to slack off again, you have my permission to do whatever’s necessary to motivate him. I’ll check back later to see if his attitude has improved.”
A moment of pity passes through her eyes, but is quickly replaced with acceptance. “Alright.” She nods, then turns to the elderly man. “Well, come on, then. You heard Grak. Let’s get to it, Sando.” She gives him an arm to lean on as they pick up the final few sacks.
Grak monitors their progress for a moment. He soon realizes, however, that he has no reasonable standard for determining if their work is sufficient.
I suppose ‘acceptable’ might be awarded here. Hmm, more like ‘good enough for now.’ Yes, I think one more stern warning might be in order.
Grak turns slightly, as if to leave, then pauses. For added effect, he puts on his grim voice. “Don’t forget, I’ll be checking up on you.” He waits a brief moment while his words sink in, then abruptly turns and heads back toward his leader spot.
Might need to keep a closer eye on Zacha. Can’t have Sando’s laziness spreading to anyone else. Maybe I should make an announcement. A policy of some sort. For the whole tribe.
Yes, that could work. But it would have to be done just so. Can’t give Jafra any room to undermine it. And she would t—
“Grak!” Frolan’s approach grabs his attention. A sizable hunting party wearing dopey grins trails behind the man.
What are they up to? Always something more to handle. I doubt anyone understands how much work it is to lead.
“Frolan? Why haven’t you left yet?” Grak remembers to add exasperation to his voice. “I thought I made it clear how critical this hunt is. The tribe doesn’t have enough food to survive the trip, Frolan!”
All are frowning now. Frolan removes his hat and hangs his head. A pitiful sight, to be sure. It even evokes a twinge of remorse in Grak.
No. Don’t feel bad. You have to be impartial. Sometimes getting upset is necessary. Can’t even let friends get away with lethargy. That’s the burden of leading. Be strong, Grak.
Frolan’s tone is properly contrite. “Sorry, Grak. I just wanted to finish this before I left.” He offers up a small statue. “I wanted you to have it before you set out tomorrow. Maybe it’ll bring fortune in your leading. And in your travels.”
Grak takes the chunk of wood, giving it a cursory inspection as he turns the thing over in his hands. It’s been crudely fashioned into the shape of a man, around one foot in height, with an arm stretched above its head. That hand is holding a rather ordinary arrow, though its standard size dwarfs the carving in comparison.
And yet, disappointingly lackluster overall.
Frolan braves a smile. “Do you like it?”
Grak hesitates. “What is it?”
“It’s you, Grak! And your arrow from our last hunt together.”
Grak considers it for a moment. “Oh … alright …”
He inspects the statue. Not much of a likeness at all. Though the hat is a dead giveaway. Or was, until he gave it to Brak—a kindness Grak is beginning to regret.
The man has been making a show of the cap and getting a number of compliments on its unique look. Grak had to make the point on his own more pronounced just to clarify that it was his idea originally. Unfortunately, this has caused “humorous” comments about the two men being related.
Through our hats. Somehow.
But the suggestion’s absurdity irritates him less than the loss of exclusivity.
Perhaps if I increase the point a bit. Make it clear that mine is more unique.
“Grak?” Frolan brings him out of thought.
“Yes?”
“Do you like it?”
“Oh, right.” He ponders the effigy for a moment. “And … why did you make it?”
Frolan grows confused. “I wanted to commemorate the event. Now that you’re leading, I doubt I’ll get another chance to chase game with you.
“Besides, your new hunting strategy is becoming renowned. I’ve been telling everyone about it. Once you teach us, our teams should be able to spend far less time away from camp.
“And that means more work getting done around here. Just like you’ve been pushing for. Thought we should have something to remember the day that made it all possible. To remember the man that made it all possible.”
Hunting strategy? That again? Need to kill that topic once and for all. Could get awkward if I’m forced to teach them. Especially if I can’t produce any results.
But how to keep the subject from coming up anymore? Maybe if I’m too busy? No, I’d have to maintain a stream of reasons. And look it too. No, has to be more permanent than that.
“Grak?”
“Yes?”
Frolan looks worried. “Do you like it?”
“Oh.” Grak weighs his potential answers. “Yes” should win the man over more than the alternative would. “Very much. Thank you.” He’s proud of himself for that last touch—makes him look gracious.
Frolan grins again, from ear to ear this time. The whole team follows his lead.
Hmm, still … probably best to avoid any of them thinking we’re too close. Can’t let them get lazy.
Grak puts on his aloof face. “Well, you need to get going. Time is critical here.”
Perhaps I should go over the plan again. Can never be too careful when dealing with these simple-minded types.
Grak speaks slowly, adding extra enunciation to vital words for greater clarity. “Remember, I’ll lead the tribe toward the river, where it bends around Redfist. We should get there in two days.” He holds up two fingers for further clarification. “Then we’ll follow it south.”
That might need clarification too. “By ‘it,’ I mean the river. We’ll follow the river as it flows south from Redfist.”
They all nod with understanding, though not necessarily with full comprehension. But Grak is fairly certain they’ve never understood anything in its entirety. Besides, a partial grasp of the matter is all he requires at the moment.
He resumes his normal pace of speech. “So, get as many kills as you can carry without encumbrance. Then return along that path to restock us.”
Frolan beams with a youthful zeal. “Got it. Don’t worry, Grak. We won’t let you down.”
He turns to his team. “Come on, hunters. We’ve got ground to cover!”
At those words, every face lights up with passion. The brute sets into a quick run, and the others eagerly follow after him. As they thunder off, Grak looks on with a certain sense of pride.
Good people. Dense, to be sure, but good. Just need someone keeping them focused.
He watches in admiration for a moment longer. And as their rhythmic footsteps fade into the distance, another noise fills the void. It’s a coarse, heavy breathing, coming from just behind Grak’s right side.
Startled, he turns to find Brak hunched over. The man’s breath appears to have gotten away from him. Brak removes his cap to reveal a heavy layer of sweat, making the pale dome unusually reflective. He pats his scalp with the head covering, soaking up the moisture.
My good hat! This is how he treats a gift? Appalling! I certainly won’t be so eager to help him out in the future.
“Grak,” he barely manages between gasps. “I nee—”
“What is it, Brak?” Grak tries to remove some of the grit in his voice. “What’s the matter? Is there trouble in camp?” He looks around, possibly for smoke, though any obvious signs of danger would do.
“Yes. Doran sent me to get you. We have a problem. Down by the shore.”
Grak waits a moment, then motions with impatience. “And are you planning on telling me what this problem is?” Under better circumstances, he’s certain Brak would have agreed on the amusing nature of that one.
The man takes another agonizing moment to catch his breath. “Oh, what isn’t it? Where do I start? Alright. A lot of people are pushing to stay. They’re causing a stir. They think the thing Doran saw will come back.
“Others think it’s a sign. That we need to wait and see what it means. Still others are proposing that it means danger for our travels.
“And then there’s a group of them—small, mind you, but vocal—who are saying that Doran is the only one who can see the thing. They don’t even seem to be pushing for anything in particular, but they’re scaring a lot of people.
“And it’s all getting out of hand. Lots of shouting. Doran’s worried it’ll turn to fighting if we don’t do something soon.”
This is by far the biggest decision of the day. Grak needs to look extra leaderly here. “And what do you think we should do?” He remembers the leader posture, though a moment too late for maximum effect.
Brak takes on a pained expression as he puts his mind to work. “I have no idea.” He tries again. “None. At all. We need your help. Please.”
The fool’s always shying away from responsibility like that. Afraid of confrontation, that’s what it is. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but in this case, a bit of spine would be preferable.
Grak looks back at his hunters. Too late. They’ve passed around the cliff face. He won’t be able to catch up at that pace. Now he regrets having them take a shortcut. If they had gone by the shore, he would have been able to use Frolan’s imposing stature to settle things there.
Should probably keep the man close by in the future. Yes. He’s a dope, but a loyal one. Almost to a fault.
Perhaps I could give him a position in camp somewhere. Would probably get more done with him around. Certainly fewer arguments from the lazy. And from the devious. Jafra in particular. And fewer dullards getting all worked up about a crab, to be sure.
But I’d need a valid job for him. Something people would agree to. That might be difficult. I don’t think he has any skills aside from killing.
Grak realizes that he’s never really talked to Frolan about other matters. Certainly not about the man’s talents.
Maybe he can do other things.
He considers that likelihood.
At least one other thing.
He considers that.
Well, it’s worth asking him at least.
“Grak?” Brak attempts once more.
“Yes? Ah, right.” He congratulates himself for refocusing so quickly this time. “Very well. Let’s go take care of your problem.”
“So then I said, ‘Why don’t we just wait a bit longer?’” Wanda rambles on without end. “Then he said, ‘What’s the point of waiting any longer?’ But that doesn’t …”
Grak stops listening again. Despite sincere effort, he’s failing in his attempts to show indifference.
Too subtle, I suppose. Or maybe indifference isn’t the answer. Maybe I just need to stop their drivel and do something.
Wanda’s gestures are getting more excited. “So I said—”
“Yes, I get it.” Grak’s annoyance is a little too obvious. Best to cool it down. “Again, I understand the disagreement.” Controlled breathing proves calming. “That’s why I’m here. To end the discord. So give me a moment of silence to think. I’ll decide what to do.”
Wanda looks confused. “But why should you decide?” The question evokes general dissent. A few nearby hands swat at her.
And well deserved. In fact, as the main instigator of this nonsense, she deserves far worse.
Olive Thirteen turns toward the woman in anger. “How dare you talk to Grak that way! Don’t you know what he’s done for us?” She might just earn her way into Grak’s inner circle if she maintains this level of devotion.
Cordo steps between the women. “Wait a moment. If I’m not mistaken, I believe what Wanda means is that we should all have a say.” His point isn’t so bold as Wanda’s, yet it conceals a far more lethal dagger.
What’s his game? Has he been talking to Jafra? I’ll need to watch this one.
The demand for an immediate response means Grak has to leave Cordo’s treachery on the cart for the moment. “Well, keep in mind that I never really wanted to lead. The tribe asked me to. You asked me to. Each one of you. It was basically forced on me. And I think I’ve done a good job.”
He pauses for a response from the crowd. To his disappointment, they’re surprisingly quiet at the moment.
No matter. Grak fills the void. “No, I know I’ve done a good job! An incredible job, in fact!” This time he’s met with a mild cheer of support.
But Cordo remains straight-faced. “Yes, it’s true. You have been leading us through this difficult time. And I’m personally grateful for that. I don’t think we would have made it without you.”
Well, that’s encouraging. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all.
The man continues. “But we’re almost at full strength. And this is an important decision. One that will affect us all for some time to come. I think we have no choice but to discuss it and decide together. As a tribe. Just as we did before Lago’s treachery.”
Then again, it’s hard to tell with him. Best to counter anything he says until I know for sure.
Grak pounces on the ripe target. “But that’s just it, Cordo. Lago’s treachery hasn’t ended. We haven’t caught him yet. If we had, do you think I’d volunteer to lead? Volunteer for the extra work? And the extra pressures?
“I’d be thrilled to go back to the way things were. I’d welcome it. But until that time, what are we to do? What am I to do? Should I abandon my people?
“Since I’ve been leading, I’ve prevented any further attacks, haven’t I?” The crowd is mildly confused, yet agreeable. “So are you asking our people to give all that up? Who will stop Lago when he returns? What will that result look like? Will some die? How many?”
A number of conversations spring up simultaneously. The crowd is deeply troubled.
Wanda lifts her voice above the noise. “Look, I didn’t mean to imply that we don’t want you leading us. You’re right. Lago attacks are down, and we owe that to you. I know I’m not alone in saying that we need you to lead.” She looks around for support, which comes enthusiastically.
“But this particular issue carries too much significance. So before you decide, I would appreciate being able to explain our reasoning for staying. Could that be possible? Please?”
This sounds like groveling. And Grak’s stance on that issue is favorable. When directed toward him at least.
Couldn’t hurt. But can’t have them thinking they’ve pushed their idea on me. That would catch on too quickly. An especially lethal poison. Can’t risk that spreading. Especially while I’m already trying to contain several other nuisances in camp.
Grak decides “benevolent” would be the best approach here. “Well, if you had let me finish earlier, I was just going to explain this very idea. So yes, you’ll have what you want. I’ll listen to each side of the issue. But in the future, please trust me long enough to hear my plans.”
An impeccable measure of chiding just there. Well done, Grak. Certainly put them in thei—
Wait a moment. If each one gets to speak, we’ll be here all day. Definitely wouldn’t have a chance to visit the hot springs. Oh my. That won’t do.
Grak thinks quickly. “Ah, so here’s what we’ll do. I’ll select one person from each of the opposing views. That person will explain the points in favor of that view. Then, they’ll be silent. After all arguments are presented, I will decide what to do. Then, we’ll do it. Is that understood?”
Nods all around confirm the plan.
“So Wanda, you can represent the view that we should wait here for Doran’s cr … thing … that he saw. Olive Thirteen, you speak for the ones wanting to leave.”
The woman suddenly looks worried. “Oh, but I want to stay.”
Grak rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. Brak, you’ll stand for the ones wanting to leave. Olive, you’ll represent the ones who think it’s an omen.”
Her face still wears concern. “But Tabo suggested that one. I really don’t know what it was.”
This is already proving more challenging than Grak had expected. And more frustrating. He shakes his head in exasperation. “Alright, look … No, never mind. It really doesn’t matter. You know what he was suggesting. You can explain it.”
She shrugs in agreement, careful not to inspire greater wrath.
Grak continues. “Cordo, you speak for those who think it means danger for our travels.”
Cordo holds up his hands in shock. “Wait a moment. I have no part in this. I just came when I heard the shouting. If you ask me, I think it’s all hyste—”
“Cordo!” Grak is having trouble controlling himself now. “What did I just tell Olive? This will all be much smoother if everyone just accepts their assignments.”
Cordo opens his mouth to speak, but decides against it, resigning himself to a mere sigh instead.
Unhindered, Grak presses on. “Alright, so that covers the sides.”
“What about those who think Doran’s the only one who can see it?” asks Olive Thirteen.
Grak gives it a cursory thought. “I think that’s more of a supporting detail.”
Cordo cuts in. “Well in that case, mine is also a supporting detail. Of Olive’s view.”
She’s quick to respond. “Again, it’s really not my vie—”
“Alright, fine!” That showed far too much anger. Grak takes a calming breath. “We’ll allow it. Thank you, Olive. Tabo, you can speak for that interest.”
Tabo suddenly realizes what’s been asked of him. “Oh, no, I’m not in tha—”
“Again!” Grak’s tone is still too harsh. “Please.” Much better. “Remember, you’re just representing. You don’t have to agree with the idea.”
Tabo nods. “Alright, but what about the view that we should build a floating cart in order to find the thing?”
Well, that’s a new one. More importantly, why does Tabo feel he’s allowed to speak? Oh, no matter. This has gone on long enough.
Grak has to put a stop to it. “Alright, you take that one too. But that’s it. No more. If we give each speck of detail a representative, then everyone will be talking. Then this whole exercise would be useless.”
Wanda cocks her head in confusion. “But, I thought your idea was for all voices to be heard.”
Grak can feel his grip faltering. He has to act quickly. “Yes, that is my idea. But to a reasonable limit. If everyone talks, we’ll be here all day, then we’ll be late arriving at Redfist.” Looks of concern among the crowd demand immediate clarification. “If I decide we should go, that is.” That settles them.
“You could hear each person separately while the rest of us pack,” suggests Cordo. “That way we wouldn’t be delayed … if you decide we should go.”
That’s even worse. I’d never get to the hot springs. Is there no end to their insubordination?
Grak dons his leader posture in hopes it will provide greater authority. “No, that won’t do either. I’ve got too much leading to do. Very busy day. We’ll leave it with those representatives. More would just get confusing.” Best to end this soon. “Wanda, we’ll start with you. Why should we stay?”
“So, given that,” concludes Wanda, “why would we go?”
Grak fends off drowsiness again. “Good. Thank you, Wanda.”
He checks his shadow. Nearly dusk. “Brak? You’re next. And please keep it brief. We’re running out of time.”
Brak steps forward. “Um, well … if we don’t travel first thing tomorrow morning … there’s a good chance we’ll all die.”
Grak is impressed. “Wonderful! Short and to the point.” His respect for the man just grew slightly. “Olive Thirteen?”
She looks like a lost doe as she attempts to answer. “I … um … wasn’t really paying attention to Tabo’s reasoning earlier. So it’s unclear.”
Grak motions impatiently. “Just do your best.”
She shrugs. “Alright. So … I suppose it could be an omen … because … well, if you see something … then you never know.”
Grak is fine with that response. “Good. Cordo?”
The man rolls his eyes. The exaggerated movement causes his mole to flex in an unnatural way. “I have no idea. Travel can be dangerous … I suppose. But so can not eating. Much more so, really.” Several in the crowd glare at him for deviating from his assigned viewpoint.
But Grak is just happy to have everything moving along. “Excellent points. Tabo?”
The man shrugs. “Well … I suppose if we build a floating cart, we could find Doran’s creature with greater ease. If others can see it, that is.”
He ponders the idea for another moment. “Also, the floating carts might make for faster travel.” Several in the crowd chuckle at this suggestion.
Grak leans closer to Brak. “Travel where? The deer are in the opposite direction.” This garners a suppressed laugh from the man.
Hmm, good. First proper response to humor all day. Still, that doesn’t make up for these time-wasters.
Grak has had enough of that sort. He decides to end the discussion. “Alright, and that’s all the sides.” Best to ease the blow of his resolution. “Well done, all. I’m proud of you for participating.”
That should suffice for the flattery phase of his speech. Now on to the point. “And after careful consideration, I’ve decided we need to leave. So, everyone back to camp. We have a lot of time to make up for.”
“Careful? How was that careful?” Clearly, Wanda is upset. “You hardly took any time for thought at all!”
Grak rubs his brow in disappointment. “Look, Wanda …” He takes a deep breath. “We all agreed that we’d follow, no matter the outcome. Are you going back on that?”
The woman appears battered by her decision. “Well, no … But … I’m sorry, Grak, but I can’t go with you. I’m staying behind. Something inside is driving me. I can’t shake it. I have to see if I can find this thing Doran saw.”
Grak puts on his most patronizing tone. “You’ll take your chances alone? With Lago on the loose?”
“She won’t be alone.” Tabo steps up. “I’ll stay with her. This floating cart is starting to sound like a decent idea. Maybe it would help.” He holds her hand timidly.
A few more voices gather in agreement until a small group forms in support of the two. Grak checks his shadow again. It’s creeping dangerously long.
Oh, what’s the use? I don’t need their kind in camp anyway. Things will be much smoother without them. Let these fools stay and starve. More food for the rest of us. But how to allow it without anyone thinking they defied me?
Grak thinks quickly. “Again, you didn’t let me finish my decision. The tribe will leave, but if some want to stay, we won’t stop them. Still, I encourage everyone to carefully consider the dangers in staying. Remember Lago’s treachery!”
Doran finally adds something to the conversation. “Besides, we’ll be back next heats. The ocean will still be there.”
A gentle murmur rolls through the crowd. Some are convinced by his words and leave Wanda’s group, making it even more meager. For others, however, it simply solidifies an existing belief that moving is vital. Either way, this pleases Grak.
Good thing I’ve got Doran. Need to remember to use him more often. Carries a lot of weight with these simple types.
Grak remembers the occasion at hand. “Good. I’m glad most are sensible.” Best to look gracious. “And I hope those of you who stay are safe. May fortune be plentiful for you on your quest.”
With that, Grak turns and heads back toward camp. But, despite the press of time, a peculiar thought nags at him as he climbs the hill. And try as he might, it won’t shake.
Finally, at the summit, Grak stops and observes the camp below. After a moment, he looks back at the group by the shore.
Hmm, staying here would eliminate the need for constant travel. I wonder if that might have been a feasible option.