A land that looked ancient and forbidding, full of sand and destructive winds—there was nothing but endless dunes and the irritatingly shining sun in the sky.
But occasionally, the rain would come to bless the land with drops of water; those that thirsted for life would follow these drops to survive.
That's how the group known as the Windeater tribe came to be. The tribe amounted to fifty or so people, united for protection and stability in order to endure.
The tribe mostly depended on hunting and farming, barely surviving through harsh conditions and scarce resources. Their hunts were occasional, and the farms were mostly filled with animals—creatures that could suffered as much as them but could also work or give something equally valuable in return.
Atop a rock that emerged from the sand, a youth sat. Around the rock, a flock of sheep grazed in the loosely grown field of grass.
The youth was handsome in an unusual manner; even in this desolate piece of land, his beauty shone like a candle in the darkness.
Shengan!!!
A voice of an another youth echoed through the air, tiny and like a whisper. The youth looked back and saw a camel approaching in his direction.
Atop the camel was another youth, a bit heavy and broad-shouldered.
"Shengan, let's go back quickly. The elders said a hunter has spotted the sore-wolf to the east. They said we must head down to gather at the base and stay guarded."
The youth was flustered and exhausted, shining sweat dropped from his neck in quick beads. Shengan tossed the water bag he held to the youth.
"Ah, thank you," said the youth, drinking mouthfuls of water in a gulp. But after two sips, he paused and carefully handed the water bag back to Shengan.
"Then you go back to the base. I'll still have to inform the others," the youth said, turning to leave, but he was halted by Shengan.
"Give me a hand to gather the herd and guide them back. After that, both of us can go warn the others," asked Shengan. He reached for the water bag, prepared to take a sip, but no water fell—it was empty. The youth, who had observed the scene first, hesitated but eventually agreed to Shengan's request.
"That was selfish of you. If Malvin hadn't alerted the others in time, they could fallen into danger. And you sneakily emptied the water bag when he wasn't looking."
Allen heard an annoyed voice in his head, fading away without a reply from him.
The youth got down from the camel and helped Shengan gather the sheep. Afterward, he hurriedly guided them to the base, while Shengan worked at a slightly slower pace.
"Don't use my friend's kindness as a tool. You become slow deliberately so Malvin has to do everything else if he wants to finish the task and alert the others. You damn thief! Stop this wicked work instantly, in the name of I, the Heavenly demon—I will curse you!"
Once again, the voice had died down after a rage in Allen's head, ignored by him.
"I will take it from here. You go alert the others." Upon nearing the tribe's location, Shengan took back the lead of the herd, letting Marvin go. Marvin happily agreed and quickly took off. He was already late by an hour or so, so the camel had to run faster than it usually did.
Mounted on a camel, Shengan guided back the sheep. After a while, the sight of a crowded place in the shadow of a hill came into view.
The crowded place was mostly made up of closely huddled camps and huts. There were about thirty or so of them.
Close to these huts were stalls and fields that grew plants, a fireplace for cooking meals, and a bathing area where one could wash themselves once a month.
This was the Windeater tribe's temporary nesting place. The ever-glowing sun in the sky above the desert could fry someone alive if given enough time. But hidden behind the shadow of a hill, the tribe managed to escape the burning sun's wrath.
In the middle of the tribe stood a giant tube. It was the most valuable possession of the tribe. The tube was filled with water, which the tribe used for their daily needs. To supply more than fifty or so people, five to six tubes had been created to gather water from the rainclouds.
Everything in the tube was loosely attached to the ground. When needed, they could be easily detached and follow the rainy clouds for survival. Even the plants were planted in mobile containers, but the soil was placed on flat, widened boards. The soil was gathered from treasured places they had once found, and water was supplied once a day by the tube.
"You came faster than I expected. Did any of our brats get hurt?"
When Shengan guided all the sheep into the stall, a man appeared from one of the huts.
The man, named Valeton, was the true owner of the sheep.Shengan's true parent had died a few years prior, succumbing to hunger. He had since been adopted into the group by the Windeater tribesmen. ever since than he had live by doing odd work on the tribe.
"I arrived as soon as I got the news. Considering none of the sheep got hurt, shouldn't you at least pay me a bit more? I doubt others would be as lucky as these guys." Shengan checked the stall after putting in every sheep and then turned to Valeton.
Valeton passed a bag, made from camel skin, into Shengan's hand.
"No extra pay. I was the only one kind enough to give you a job, so you should do it wholeheartedly. If not, who will take care of you? Maybe next time someone will buy you as a slave—but who knows how long it will take until we find one. Now that I think about it, the old man Benson mentioned you sometimes, especially about how handsome you are."
Shengan spat to the ground and ignored the man's voice. With a grin, Valeton rechecked the stall and examined each sheep for their health. Meanwhile, Shengan looked inside the bag and saw a handful of grain within it. After counting his payment, Shengan left the stall without a word.