Nyell listened quietly to Allen's bullcrap as he recounted his trip in the jungle, trying his best not to laugh. At one point, he felt like he couldn't hide his smirk anymore and decided to bend over to prop his chin on Allen's head, snuggling his face into his soft hair to conceal the curled-up corner of his mischievous mouth. Allen didn't even flinch at the affectionate gesture. In fact, Nyell felt his body grow a bit more limp. The shaman seemed just about to slouch into his arms, and Nyell thought that he certainly would have, had it not been for the elders' presence. There was still a minimum of decorum that Allen had to keep as the chief: no matter how tempting it was, he couldn't outright ignore the council and his duties, only to snuggle with his fated mate instead.
"The beasts in the jungle are behaving more ferociously and venturing outside of their usual territories. It causes disturbances for the tribe, and from what I gathered, the Black Moon tribe was the most affected by this phenomenon. They lost many of theirs, thanks to how unpredictable the fauna has been lately. It's no wonder the past few expeditions in the jungle have been utter disasters, and most of our hunters haven't made it back. It seems like the sea isn't the only thing behaving out of character."
It was impressive how Allen could tell the truth while simultaneously covering up the real issue that had plagued the Black Moon tribe. Or so Nyell thought. In the end, though, the beasts had been acting strangely. The manticores' attacks were one instance, and the presence of a basilisk that had ventured up to the north, enough for Layla to catch its attention when she ventured a bit too far south, was another. However, the disturbances near the Black Moon tribe's settlement were likely due to Karen, who sent the animals into a frenzy with the help of some scent pouches: it wasn't a natural phenomenon. The beasts' odd behavior distracted the warriors and helped cover up her tracks, while the scent pouches also messed up the werewolves' noses, preventing them from tracking their loved ones' smells—one stone, two birds.
But ultimately, Allen wasn't lying. He simply didn't bring up the daemon, and the underlying meaning of his words insinuated that the jungle was as affected as the sea by the same strange phenomenon. He answered the elders' questions in a way that led them to believe the gods were angry at the island as a whole, and not just at the shore where the White Moon tribe had settled. If Nyell hadn't known better, he certainly would have believed the bullshit, especially with how serious Allen appeared. He managed to evoke hidden worry in his tone, almost as if he was trying to pretend he was calm so as not to alert the elders of the unsettling situation they were in, but wasn't able to completely conceal his inner thoughts from them. It was an absolute masterpiece of microexpressions that led the elders to believe they were observant and smarter than Allen, unaware that they were, in fact, dancing in the palms of his hands. Truly terrifying.
"Is that how you met Nyell?' Jawe asked, a vicious light brightening the depth of his eyes. "Because of these beasts' attacks?"
"If we want, yes," Allen nodded. "A manticor was about to rip him to shreds when I asked Layla to intervene. Otherwise, I'm not sure he'd have made it out alive."
Again, there was no lie. A lot of omissions, but no lie. The more Nyell listened, the more in awe he was. Although lying and fabricating stories were a simple task, it could become difficult to follow in the long term. Making mistakes became far easier. But as for Allen's approach, it involved using actual events to explain situations or construct a well-thought-out argument, making it easier to avoid getting entangled in a web of lies. He only needed to remember what he had told and what he hadn't. And considering he was building his theories on specific events, it was easy to tuck the important information in a corner of his mind. Moreover, if the elders somehow got their hands on other witnesses, they would corroborate Allen's reports and add weight to his words.
'That is, as long as they don't drag back someone from the Sun tribe… My tribe is not on the best terms with them, and they certainly wouldn't follow along with my lies, not from the goodness of their hearts, at least. As for the hunters who kenw me… Allen must have thought of something already. Otherwise, he wouldn't have proposed to hide my identity. He's not dumb.'
The thought was fleeting, and Nyell's attention was quickly grabbed by something else. He gazed out of the window, listening with only one ear to whatever the elders were saying. Up to now, it hadn't been anything interesting, and he doubted it'd be of any use to him. Since Allen was the big brain between them, he'd let him do the thinking and exchange ideas when necessary. At the moment, however, something much more pressing required their attention.
The window wall, which was basically an arch dug into the white rock, offered a majestic view of the harbor. Although the council room wasn't perched as high as Allen's house, it still stood relatively high above the sea. Thanks to this, the entrance of the crescent-moon-shaped lagoon could be seen in the distance. But that wasn't what had drawn Nyell's eyes. No, what caught his attention was the gigantic wave beyond the riffs. It appeared as high as the mountain range and seemed about to swallow the white moon tribe whole. His hearing was more developed than most, and he could hear the faint roaring sound the wave made as it approached. The people down in the harbor had yet to notice the danger, for the cliffs hid the wave from their view. As of now, it was only visible from a high point of view. The sea had receded, the water level down a few meters from the dock, but no one understood yet what it meant.
"Allen," Nyell interrupted whatever arguments the elders were having, which earned him scoffs and glares. Of course, he couldn't care less about these and pretended not to notice them, pointing at the window with his thumb. He nonchalantly asked, "Is that what you meant when you said the sea was behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum?"
His words silenced everyone, and soon, the atmosphere grew tense as the elders' gazes turned toward the harbor. Some faces turned livid in an instant, while others were stricken by panic, their facial expression distorted into utter terror. But neither Nyell nor Allen seemed affected by the overwhelming sight. Their expressions remained calm, and their voices steady. It was as if the incoming disaster was genuinely nothing more than the tantrum of an unruly child, one that parents could easily handle. And as expected, Allen answered with a simple "yes". No sugarcoating the disaster lying ahead.
"It's huge," Nyell commented, trying to estimate just how tall and wide the wave was. He had nothing to compare it to, except for the mountain range. It was smaller than that, but still bigger than the cliffs.
"Hm," Allen squinted, leaning more comfortably against Nyell's chest. "It seems even bigger than before. I'm not sure the riffs and the cliffs can break it completely this time and keep it from reaching the harbor."
"Wouldn't it be disastrous if it crashed against the harbor? Even if only in parts?" Nyell asked, aware they didn't have much time left. This thing was traveling too fast. "There are many ships and people down there."
"It'd be disastrous, indeed."
"If you know," one elder exploded, "why are you acting so nonchalant about it! Do something!"
Nyell's mouth twitched, and he tightened his grip around Allen to keep himself from giving them a piece of his mind. Now wasn't the time. Still, as far as he knew, Allen was a young chief, whereas the elders were supposedly there to assist him and serve as mentors. Yet, all they were doing right now was panicking, even Abby. He could tell she was trying to come up with a solution, the gears turning at light speed in her head, but nothing seemed to pop up. She was at a loss.
What the hell did they do in Allen's absence? They knew the sea was misbehaving, so shouldn't they have prepared for the eventuality of a disaster? Where were the evacuation plans? Or were the White Moon tribe so used to a tranquil life that they had forgotten how to react in a moment of crisis? The last directive that had been given was from Lapis just before he left for the Black Moon tribe in search of his chief. He had ordered the elders to evacuate all the settlements on the rifts and cliffs and shelter the people in the town. Nyell wasn't even sure it had been done.
"Don't worry," Allen's calm voice resounded, soothing the elders' nerves. "I've already taken the necessary precautions. The rifts might be damaged, but the harbor and the town will be fine."
Allen already did? A frown creased Nyell's brow before an epiphany hit him. Ah, right. His uncle was out there with the children, whereas Myrven and Layla were nowhere in sight. A daemon of Dangu's strength should be able to handle a natural disaster of this scale. That was, unless the wrath of a god truly powered the wave, giving it the strength to raze everything in its wake. But Nyell doubted it. Everything was too shady, starting with Jawe's composed eyes that his faked panicked face couldn't completely conceal.