The next morning, Ningning didn't wake up to the sun or Weijie's touch. Instead, a deep, rhythmic clanging echoed through the stone walls of the cave.
Gong.
Gong.
Gong.
She sat up with a start, her muscles still stiff but functional. Weijie was already awake, though he sat on the edge of the furs with a heavy, glassy-eyed look that made her heart sink. He moved as if he were underwater.
"The Elder..." Weijie murmured, his voice thick and slow. "Numa calls. We must go to the clearing. Let's hear what he has to say."
Though Weijie had a feeling, the gathering was called, so he could announce that the cold was approaching.
They made their way down to the center of the tribe. The air was crisp enough that Ningning's breath hitched in her chest, appearing as a faint mist.
Numa stood atop a large Stone, his weathered staff held high. The usual boisterous energy of the Snake Tribe was gone, replaced by a strange, quiet solemnity.
