Confinement

In a remote area of the tribe bordering the jungle, Nyell stood beside an open cellar with his back held straight. He was turning a deaf ear to the crowd's whispers as he watched Cloe climb down the rope ladder into the underground room. She jumped once she was close enough to the ground, tugging on the rope ladder to let the people above know she had reached the muddy floor. It was a roundabout way to tell them as she could directly speak with the people above, for the cellar was only a few meters deep. Her voice was loud, and werewolves were known for their excellent hearing sense. However, Cloe was not in the mood to speak for the first time in her life and kept quiet. She let the others do the conversation instead.

It didn't take long before a voice filled the heavy silence.

"Next."

The order was short and direct, yet no one among the people gathered near the cellar stepped forward. The warriors still had difficulty wrapping their heads around the current situation, while the White Moon tribe's delegation was too distraught to follow along with the Black Moon tribe's antics. Being treated as criminals didn't settle well with the lot. How could their status change from guests to potential manslaughters overnight? It felt unreal. 

"If no one steps forward," Burg warned sternly, "I'll be deciding whose next."

Meanwhile, the Black Moon tribe's members, watching from the sidelines, lowered their heads, unable to bear the sight of their warriors being confined. It was necessary, for they had proof foul play was involved in the fifth elder's disappearance yesterday night, but it still didn't feel good. They did not want to suspect their own people, and they would have rather only butt heads with the White Moon tribe's members. However, Burg had brought to light that although they might be involved as their tribes didn't get along, they were most likely innocents. They had to be 'rational' and admit that the most likely culprit was someone among their warriors on night duty yesterday and not the other way around. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry, so he had ordered the confinement of the White Moon tribe's members as well.

"Please," Burg sighed, appearing to be heart-wretched by the current situation, "don't make it any harder than it already is."

"Alright," Lapis stepped forward, throwing a warning look at his fellow tribe members. Whether they liked it or not, they had to comply for now. Resisting and dealing with angry mobs wouldn't do them any good. "I'll go next, but I should warn you that my chicken arms might not be able to support my weight as I climb down, so I'm counting on Cloe to catch me if I lose my footing. I'm not young anymore, and if I were to fall from this height, it'd end with a few broken bones for this poor old me." 

Corriel, who was standing beside Burg, had to stifle a laugh. Lapis was around his age, so he somehow found his comment amusing. Being a middle-aged man sure was difficult, wasn't it? Putting that aside, even if shamans were physically weaker than the average werewolf, they weren't made of glass. Werewolves were a species known for their durability and regenerative ability. Corriel, and pretty much everyone else, could tell that the untimely comment was intended to ease the atmosphere, which worked surprisingly well.

"Don't worry," an amused voice resounded from below, "I'm a strong woman with gorilla-like arms, so were you to fall, this youngster will be there to catch you!"

"Glad to hear that…"

That said, Lapis didn't delay any longer and flipped his robes over to allow him to descend the rope ladder. His clothing wasn't the best for such activity, and he was clumsy. Needless to say, it didn't take long before his fear came true, and he fell. Thankfully, Cloe caught him. The grumbling from down the hole almost made Nyell crack his mask and smirk. However, he had to keep a solemn face. He was supposed to be pissed off by the turn of events, not amused.

Thanks to Lapis, the others weren't as put off as before and obediently climbed down the rope ladder. It might not be a funny situation, but at the end of the day, it was only for one night. It wasn't like they had been put on death row, and Burg's reasoning wasn't wrong either. Until now, the thing targeting the tribe had left no clue, and people vanished into thin air without leaving a trace behind. But this time, the fifth elder's guards had been knocked out. Although no one wanted to accept it, much less admit it aloud, the thing might have had an insider's help yesterday. Even if Cloe had gone around to warn them of a weird presence during the night, it didn't absolve them of all suspicions. For the time being, it was better to lock them up and lower as much as possible the possibility of another disappearance tonight.

The suspected people entered the cellar, converted into a prison cell for the night, one by one under the elder's scrutiny and the Black Moon tribe's members' watchful, fearful, and guilt-gripping gazes. Nyell didn't pay these unnerving gazes any heed and stared at the White Moon tribe's last member climb down the ladder instead. Just as it was about to be his turn, Burg spoke to him. 

"I'm sorry, but although we all know you're most likely not the culprit, not after everything you've done for the tribe, I cannot show favoritism by letting you, and you alone, out of the wood. It wouldn't be fair."

"Whatever," was Nyell's curt answer, making the elder's mouth twitch.

He knew Burg's words had only one purpose: calming his people's ire. Whether the elder liked it or not, Nyell was akin to a hero to everyone, and many were displeased by the idea of locking him up. Of course, Nyell wasn't planning to play along with his display of empty empathy.

A thud resounded, announcing the White Moon tribe's member had reached the muddy ground of the cellar. It was thus Nyell's turn. He approached the entrance, side-glancing at his father, Burg, the sixth elder, Myrven, Layla, and Isa, who were standing beside each other. Honestly, he was still unsure how to feel about Myrven and Layla, although his father seemed to have realized the subterfuge long ago and wasn't bothered. Isa, on the other, couldn't hide her anxiety much. 

'She hasn't yet caught on, has she?' Nyell sighed inwardly. But who was he to judge her? It took him this long to figure out something was off, and he only realized it after the facts were slammed into his face. Had his brain turned into mush from all the recent events? Otherwise, it didn't make sense for him not to have a wake-up call earlier.

In his little speech from earlier, Burg had included Myrven and Layla among the potential culprits, stirring up the people. That was until Myrven opened his mouth and reminded everyone of one little thing.

"I understand your concerns, but Layla and I are still under the oath our chief made. We cannot harm your tribe in any way. If anything, the two of us are the less likely to aid whatever is going after your tribe, for our pledge does not allow us to use the information learned during our stay to hurt your people. That includes all types of information, even the most trivial ones. As such, it makes it virtually impossible for us to do anything because the simple fact of learning about someone's name or existence prevents us from hurting them."

'That's what he said, wasn't it?' Nyell scoffed at himself. He should have realized this morning something was off before Myrven even brought this up. Layla was the one who had knocked out the fifth elder's guards, directly harming them after learning their localization from Corriel, yet she hadn't suffered any consequences. Her soul hadn't been torn apart from breaking the oath, which meant the oath hadn't been broken.

While they made their way to the cellar and while the suspected warriors and the White Moon tribe's members climbed down the rope ladder, Nyell had been busy trying to figure out how that was possible. It took him a while until an epiphany hit him. He almost burst out laughing after figuring it out. Back then, Allen used a specific phrasing, which was as follows: with the intent to harm. Intent was a subjective matter, and right now, Myrven and Layla were indeed harming people from the Black Moon Tribe, but with the intent to save the tribe as a whole. One word changed the whole pledge.

'I should be more careful around Allen,' Nyell thought. 'I guess I'll have to ponder his words whenever he speaks up. He tends to use a certain type of phrasing and double-meaning words. Gotta watch my back before I agree to something I shouldn't, though I fear that's already too late.'

But for now, he had other matters to deal with. He chased Allen from his thoughts, even if he knew the man would most likely pop up in his mind soon again, before making his way to the cellar. He stood on its edge, and just before jumping down, he peered at the elders and said:

"Well, I hope to see you tomorrow. Good luck."

However, Nyell knew the sixth elder would be long gone by tomorrow morning. Unfortunately for Burg, they had already considered what to do if Lapis and Nyell were locked up and devised a plan in response. He only hoped Myrven and Layla would manage, for it was certain Burg would assign them a chaperon each for the night. Still, Nyell was confident. 

Myrven and Layla were monstrous beings, and despite his years of experience fighting dangerous beasts in the jungle, he could not fathom their strength. Now more than ever, he was glad the White Moon tribe wasn't his enemy and the elders were. These geezers were much easier to deal with.