That same evening at the stone village, silence hovered in the air, no story telling or singing among the villagers. A meeting was going on at the village square, the torches burnt low and restless as the elders new and old gathered in the circle under a tent, wrapped in the thickest blankets they owned.
Some smoked through their pipes; others nursed on cups that held locally brewed alcohol which they had buried in their houses since the beginning of the year.
Misery clung to them like a friend. The former chief's death hung over the place like smoke after a fire_choking stinging and inescapable. As the council of chief's murmured, grief quickly turned into bitterness.
Calls of executions had started immediately after the cremation of their dead and they were still ringing through the cold air, loud and determined.
