The Blood On Our Hands

When Nyell and his party reached the tribe, it was already evening, and dinner was just around the corner. Still, despite the late hour, Isa and Layla were at the entrance, munching on jerky. Nyell had a hunch the girls spent the last two days waiting for their return, only leaving after nightfall to sleep for a few hours. The dark circle etched under his sister's eyes spoke volume. Did she even sleep a wink these past nights? He wasn't sure.

Although Isa sent him off with a smile and a wave of her hand, Nyell knew that, deep down, she had been terrified something might happen to him. Traveling in the jungle was never risk-free, and it was even more so when the goal of his trip had been to meet with a daemon set on destroying their elders. No matter how much they reassured each other, they had no clue how Dangu would react.

It wasn't because Allen managed to befriend the daemon that others could win over his heart, too. His father had sternly warned him about it, and if he were to learn that his son had a slip of the tongue and greeted the daemon with a 'hi uncle' when they first met….

Nyell shuddered at the thought. His father could be scary once angry. He couldn't help but instinctively scan his surroundings, searching for his father's shadow. Then, he let out a sigh of relief.

Corriel was nowhere near in sight, but that was to be expected. His father wasn't as free to act as his children and was bound by daily duties. Although dealing with the elders was one of his top priorities, other things, such as food distribution, required his attention. His people needed to eat, even if their hearts weren't there, and the stress of these past few months had yet to subside, still twisting their stomachs into knots. Dying of hunger wouldn't be better than being spirited away.

'But look at what we got here. Seems like some people aren't as busy as they should be,' Nyell silently snorted, hatred surging from the pit of his stomach up to his throat. He never thought he could ever loathe someone so much. 

Outwardly, however, Nyell smiled, although his smile didn't reach his eyes as his gaze landed on Burg, who stood near Isa. Despite the furry storming inside him, he only let his usually mild annoyance show. These geezers were quick to catch on, and showing how furious he was deep down would only serve to alert them. The same could be said if he suddenly became overly friendly.

"Where have you been?" the elder asked without so much as a greeting, earning him a glare from Isa. 

The teenager was about to growl something when Nyell threw her a warning look, reminding her that she had promised to stay put. He very well understood her desire to wring the geezer's neck, but now wasn't the time. There were too many witnesses. Curious bystanders were glancing at their little group, itchy for some gossip.

"Well, in the jungle?" Nyell shrugged, aware that Corriel had already reported his outing to the elders. He only needed to tell the same story as his father's. "Since we've experienced two manticores' attacks back to back, I wanted to make sure there wasn't one left wandering around. There's a chance they might have been a couple and have a child tagging along. I don't want to hold another funeral any time soon, so better be safe than sorry. It's not like we have many warriors who can go head-to-head with such beasts. If anything, I don't think there's anyone in our tribe who can beat these ugly things. Excluding me, of course."

"And did you find one?"

"No, we didn't come across anything," Nyell shook his head before squinting, pronouncing the following words slowly, "In fact, it's eerily quiet in there." 

That wasn't a lie: they had to search for beasts to hunt during their little trip. Something had scared the wildlife out of their wits, and barely any noises could be heard. Even after straining his ears, all Nyell managed to catch was the sound of wind rustling the leaves. He hadn't realized it on his way to the canyon as his mind was preoccupied with other things, but it grew on him that something was off about the jungle when he returned. The fauna was afraid of something or someone and had hidden away from prying eyes.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Burg smiled gently. "They must have been scared off with everything that's been going on lately. The being haunting the jungle is a scary one, after all. As long as the beasts stay quiet, everything is fine and dandy."

"I guess, yes. We won't spit on a bit of calm."

Nyell went along, still smiling while clenching his fists. A quiet jungle was never a good thing. It was a sign that something was brewing in its depths, something that was more often than not terrible. The inhabitants of the jungle had a sharp sixth sense, which sometimes acted almost like clairvoyance. If every living being lay low, even the more notoriously ferocious beasts, then it meant the jungle and its surroundings were in the middle of the calm before the storm. It was an ironclad rule.

There was no way Burg didn't know it, for it was a rule the elders had put forth after withstanding many disastrous events in the past. The jungle grew quiet whenever a catastrophe, such as a flood, was about to befall them. So Burg had either grown senile or knew perfectly well what was transpiring behind the scenes. Nyell voted for the latter.

'What a bunch of crooked old folks,' Nyell thought as he excused himself from Burg's watchful gaze to visit Corriel and give him his report, with Isa, Layla, Myrven, and Lapis following in tow. 'I can't believe it took my mother's death and dozens of people disappearing for me to realize they were rotten to the core. How laughable.' 

It was a mistake that would haunt him for years to come. Nyell was the chief's son, and his job was to protect his people. Yet he failed spectacularly and gave the snakes free reins to slitter around and do whatever they wanted. 

Now, Nyell had to make amends, and he'd do so in the most brutal way he could. 

.

.

"So, how did it go?" Corriel asked as he handed his son a leather gourd filled with water, inviting him to sit and eat as he reported his little escapade. "I didn't think you would be back so soon."

"It's because it went surprisingly well," Nyell scoffed. "Dangu is much more cool-headed than you may think, especially considering the situation. If I had been in his shoes, I'd probably have wiped out the whole tribe by now."

Isa hiccuped at her brother's words, tightening her grip on her destined mate's arm. Even Corriel froze mid-movement as he was about to sit on the rug, looking at his son with a puzzled look. Nyell might have had a fiery temper, but he was rarely furious enough to wish death upon his own people - werewolves from other tribe were another story, though. He could have understood if his son's ire was directed at the elders, considering what they had been doing behind their backs, but the whole tribe…? He was unsure how to react. 

"How come?" Corriel frowned. "I don't think our people have done anything to deserve such hate from you." 

"Well, they didn't do it consciously, but it doesn't change the fact that none of us is free of blame," Nyell scoffed. "It's no wonder Dangu has no guilty conscience about the collateral damage caused by his wrath."

'Although,' Nyell added to himself, 'my uncle might have fallen apart and turned back into a brainless beast had we told him Myur gobbled up Hulien's soul. Luckily, it ended up spitting it out, so everything is good and well… Wait, why did it spit it out again? Wasn't it because of Allen? Did he somehow know what was going on inside that thing's stomach…? Argh, I swear this guy! I should have asked him more questions!' 

"Son, why…?"

Corriel's voice snapped Nyell back to the present. There was no point crying over spilled milk. He could always interrogate Allen later. Hopefully, his brain wouldn't turn into mush the next time they met, and he wouldn't lose his wits. At any rate, that wasn't important right now.

"Honestly, I don't feel like talking about it," Nyell coughed, wanting to spare his father from the gruesome details. "And I don't think it'll be good for anyone's mental health to know the truth. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss."

"So," Corriel lowered his eyes, sorrow flashing across his face. "I guess it wasn't only our family who had Hulien's blood on our hands. The medicine we used wasn't the sole factor behind her death, am I wrong? The elders used each tribe member to do their dirty deeds, ensuring Dangu's wrath wouldn't be directed only at them. I suppose the best way to save their necks was to diffuse Dangu's attention left and right. It's sickening in more ways than one."

"Couldn't you, I don't know, pretend to be dumb?" Nyell felt his mouth twitch. "Especially in front of your daughter?" 

"Sorry, son. If there's one thing working well in my body, it's that brain of mine. And you know Isa's curiosity wouldn't allow her to remain ignorant. You're both as stubborn as your mother."

"Still…"

"It's fine, Nye," Isa smiled weakly. "I already had a hunch it was the case after our last meeting. We can't change the past, but we can make the future brighter. I'm sure that's what mom would have wanted, too. Anyway, I'm more curious about our next course of action. We can lament about mom's death later."

"Wow, my baby sister sure has grown." 

"Don't tease me," Isa blushed, "and get on with the plan!" 

"Alright, alright," Nyell grinned. "We'll let all hell break loose for the next few days. But first, we need to decide in which order the elders will disappear, for they all will. So, who shall be our first victim?"