Chapter 58: A group of strange Magnari's.
"You know what?"
Gre Is Ner suddenly spoke, drawing the attention of the two Magnari beside him.
"Don't pretend you guys don't feel the same way. Gre Ka Chu would obviously be the next Tribal Chief, wouldn't she? After the First Tribal Chief, wasn't she the strongest among us?"
Gre So Ner glanced at him, his fingers still resting around the handle of his stone-cladded dagger.
"You would be right if this were a normal situation," he replied. "But we don't even know if Gre Ka Chu is going to participate."
And that was precisely where Gre So Ner found his own hope. If Gre Ka Chu remained outside the tournament, then his chances of becoming the Second Tribal Chief weren't completely hopeless. He knew better than most just how difficult defeating her would be, and even after everything he had learned and all the training he had undergone during the months since Gre Ka Go's illness, he couldn't confidently claim that he would be able to overcome her in a proper fight.
But if she simply refused to participate, then the situation would be different.
With enough effort, perhaps he could defeat Gre Ka So, Gre Ma Go, and the other named Magnari who had distinguished themselves over the past several months. None of them were weak, and Gre So Ner knew he would have to push himself considerably further if he wanted to stand above them, but at least they were opponents he could imagine defeating. If he managed to overcome all of them, then perhaps he really could become the Second Tribal Chief.
"I don't know..." another Magnari muttered, his expression becoming uneasy as he considered the possibility. "She's pretty unpredictable. What if she suddenly decides she wants the position?"
The thought alone seemed enough to make him tense.
"That woman scares the shit out of me. I hope that doesn't ever happen."
None of them laughed, because there was little reason to. Everyone knew exactly what Gre Ka Chu was like, and ever since Gre Ka Go had fallen into his strange illness, she had remained inside the Tribal Chief's house without showing the slightest interest in what was happening outside.
She barely left his side, refused to allow anyone else inside, and had seemingly devoted herself entirely to remaining beside Gre Ka Go's unmoving body. Nobody had seen her leave the house for food, either, which had become another mystery that the Magnari had simply learned not to question. Perhaps she had some way of obtaining it that they didn't know about, or perhaps she simply refused to leave the Chief's side even for something as basic as eating.
Either way, nobody dared ask.
And certainly nobody was foolish enough to attempt forcing their way inside.
The conversation eventually faded as the Magnari returned their attention to the hunt, their weapons moving between their hands with a familiarity that would have been difficult to imagine several months ago. Their ancestors had once relied almost entirely upon instinct and physical strength when fighting predators, but the Magnari of the present had begun accumulating knowledge through every hunt they survived. They had learned where certain predators were vulnerable, how they moved, how much force was necessary to kill them, and more importantly, how to cooperate with one another instead of simply throwing themselves at whatever creature happened to cross their path.
That was why the sudden disturbance from the northern edge of the forest immediately caught their attention.
The Magnari stopped what they were doing and turned toward the bushes, their ears twitching as an unusual breeze passed through the trees. It wasn't particularly strong, nor did it carry any obvious scent that would immediately indicate the presence of a predator, but something had moved within the vegetation.
Several Magnari tightened their grips around their weapons and lowered their bodies slightly, prepared to respond if another beast suddenly emerged.
But what stepped out from the bushes wasn't a predator.
One Magnari stumbled out first, followed by another and then another, until an entire group gradually emerged from the forest.
The warriors' expressions changed as they recognized what they were looking at.
Magnari.
They were unmistakably Magnari, yet something about them was terribly wrong.
Their bodies were thin and visibly malnourished, their fur dirty and matted from what appeared to have been a prolonged journey through the wilderness. Some could barely keep themselves upright without leaning against the Magnari beside them, while others continuously looked over their shoulders toward the forest they had just emerged from, as if they expected something to come rushing out after them at any moment.
Their condition alone made it obvious that this wasn't the ordinary fear of encountering a predator. These Magnari looked as though they had been running for their lives for far longer than their bodies could endure, and whatever they had been running from had apparently frightened them badly enough that they had continued fleeing even after reaching the territory of another Magnari group.
"Who are they...?"
The question left one of the hunters, but nobody had an answer.
Before any of them could approach, a female Magnari stepped forward from the group. Her breathing was heavy, her entire body trembling from exhaustion as she stared at the armed warriors before her, and for several seconds she seemed unable to produce anything more than a strained breath.
Then she finally forced the words out.
"Into Gremereto Helpotot utero!"
(Please... help us!)
The hunting party froze in their tracks.
It wasn't simply the meaning of the words that caught their attention. The manner in which the female had spoken them was strangely familiar, almost uncomfortably so, because the language belonged to a period of their history that most of the Magnari had long since left behind.
It was the way their own people had spoken more than a decade and a half ago, before their language had developed into what it was now and before the teachings of Gre Ka Go had gradually introduced them to a much wider understanding of the world. The Magnari didn't have a proper concept of years or a method of recording the passage of time, but they still understood the difference between the language they used now and the primitive manner in which their ancestors had once communicated.
To hear it from another Magnari now was like hearing a voice from an ancient part of their own history.
Gre So Ner slowly tightened his grip around his dagger.
The female Magnari didn't look like someone who had come searching for a fight. If anything, she looked like someone who had already lost one. Her body was exhausted to the point that she could barely remain standing, her breathing came in uneven gasps, and her eyes kept drifting toward the forest behind her with an anxiousness that made Gre So Ner wonder what exactly they had encountered before reaching this place.
Still, caution was one of the virtues that had kept him alive throughout his hunting life, and he wasn't going to abandon it simply because the strangers appeared helpless.
"Stay away!"
His dagger rose slightly.
"Who are you? You resemble us Magnari... but I don't think I've ever seen any of you before."
He refused to be swayed by the herd and their pitiful words.