The sun slowly climbed above the jagged mountain peaks, casting warm light over the village of Kiranti. Inside the wooden council hall, the mood was heavy. Elders and warriors gathered quietly, their faces serious and thoughtful.
Elder Pahang sat near the fire, his old hands resting on the carved wooden staff he always carried. The flickering flames cast long shadows on his weathered face. A young messenger stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"The Chyarung have sent no message to us," the messenger said, "but scouts report many warriors gathering near their southern border."
Pahang's eyes narrowed. "They prepare for something… or perhaps they wait for us to make the first move."
A low murmur spread through the hall. Some warriors exchanged worried glances while others remained silent. The air felt thick with tension, heavy like the mountain mist that often blanketed the valley.
Outside the council hall, Yalamber sat beside his close friend Lhakar on the edge of a small stream. They skipped stones across the clear water, but neither boy spoke much. Yalamber's heart beat faster, though he did not fully understand why.
At home, the adults whispered in low voices. The warriors spent more time cleaning their swords and checking their bows. The smell of dried meat and smoke grew stronger in the storage rooms as preparations for the unknown began.
That evening, the council met again, this time with more warriors in attendance. All eyes were on Elder Pahang as he stood to speak.
"We will not strike first without good reason," he said firmly. "But we must be ready. The Chyarung clans are proud. Pride can make a man brave or make him dangerous."
Outside, a cold wind rattled the wooden windows. Torches flickered in the mountain breeze as guards paced the walls, their faces tense and alert.
Far in the distance, a wolf's howl echoed through the night, breaking the silence. The sound seemed to carry a warning, a call from the wild land surrounding them.
Later that night, Yalamber lay awake on his simple bed, staring up at the wooden beams above. The weight of the days' news pressed on his young mind. He could feel a storm coming not one of rain or snow, but one made of men and swords.
Though he was still just a boy, Yalamber knew the world he lived in was changing. And soon, the choices made by those around him would decide the fate of the Kiranti and perhaps of himself as well.