Alaya took Saryah by the hands and, without raising her voice, called everyone to follow. It was not an order—it was an invitation that echoed within. A few hundred beings responded. They walked for days until they left the field of destruction behind and reached an open, wide, and silent valley. There, large creatures grazed in peace, tethered to the earth by the weight of their own bodies. They moved slowly, as if time in that place obeyed a different cadence.
Alaya felt the emotions of everyone. She was like a tree whose roots touched the feet of every being. She sensed the collective restlessness and remembered something ancient: a good meal heals ailments that words cannot reach. She made a request—and her request reached those who listened like musical notes, a simple melody that made everyone cease their steps. The men captured some ruminants. The women prepared the fire site. The younger ones sought water and firewood.
The flame was lit, and around it, they raised a stone base to support a large cauldron of hammered metal. Others returned with fresh aromatic herbs, roots pulled from the earth, sun-colored fruits, small green fruits with a soft perfume, ripe red fruits, light-colored bulbs, and pale seeds.
When the meat arrived, Alaya approached. She chose a dark portion and, with absolute calmness, began the preparation. Her gestures were precise yet gentle—there was no haste, no hardness. Only transformation. Those who watched felt something sweet in the air, as if a tree in bloom had decided to remain there.
The meat was cleaned of excess and sliced with patience. Then, it rested briefly in the juice of an acidic fruit, just enough to soften its weight, before being washed and set aside. On another stone base, the pale seeds were placed in water, which covered them just over a finger's breadth. They would wait for the fire to complete its work.
Alaya heated a metal disc over the flame and let the fat yield to the heat. She peeled the bulbs in layers and split the red fruits. When the metal was ready, the bulbs touched its surface and were stirred with a wooden spoon until they turned golden. Then, one by one, the slices of meat were laid over the heat, turned at the right time, until each had fulfilled its passage through the fire. The pale seeds, now swollen, no longer held water.
Upon the same metal, Alaya joined the red fruits, the small aromatic fruits, and a bit of water. The sauce formed thick and vivid, and was poured over the prepared meats.
The aroma spread through the settlement. Meanwhile, tents were erected, tables and benches took shape. Everything happened as if that collective gesture had been known since forever. Finally, Alaya chopped the fresh herbs and scattered them over the preparation.
When she called everyone, her eyes sought Tribal's. Upon finding them, she perceived in them a profound sadness—a silent contrast to the abundance being offered.