The Winds of Tepr

Chapter 11

In the aftermath of the fierce battle against the Nipih, Naci and Horohan find themselves waist-deep in the reconstruction efforts of the ravaged Haikam settlement. The sound of hammers on nails, the pulling of ropes to erect new tents, and the coordinated effort to rebuild speaks volumes of their resolve.

Naci is a whirlwind of activity, her hands alternating between carrying beams for a new longhouse and directing Haikam warriors in rearranging the defensive barricades. Horohan, bow slung across her back, is not far behind, wielding an axe with a practiced ease to chop down trees for additional lumber. Both wear the sweat and grime like badges of honor, but it's the awestruck looks from the Haikam tribe that matter most.

Among the Haikam warriors, respect for Naci and Horohan has grown exponentially. Initially cautious, even skeptical, they now discuss the two newcomers in hushed tones of awe. "Did you see the way she swung her sword? Took down three Nipih in one stroke!" one young warrior says of Naci. Another chimes in about Horohan, "And her aim—pierced a Nipih archer right through his eye from a hundred paces!"

But it's not just the warriors who are enamored. The women of the tribe, many of whom are busy tending to the wounded and organizing supplies, look upon Naci and Horohan with gratitude. They bring them bowls of water to wash their faces and plates of food, despite their own meager supplies.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Horohan takes a moment to approach a group of Haikam women who are busily applying herbal poultices to the wounds of their men. "Why do you think the Nipih attacked now?" she asks, kneeling beside them.

One of the women, her hands stained with medicinal herbs, looks up and sighs. "Their lands are poor, mostly tundra. Yet, they always seem to have enough. We've long suspected that they hide a significant part of their wealth."

"From the Moukopl empire, you mean?" Horohan probes.

"Yes," another woman adds, her voice tinged with bitterness. "We lost many young men to the Moukopl draft, even some of my own kin. Yet, no Nipih were taken. They must have found a way to keep the empire's tax collectors at bay."

"It gave them the advantage, the opportunity to strike while we were weaker," the first woman concludes, a weary anger in her eyes.

As Horohan strolls back through the settlement, her thoughts drift to Naci's earlier remarks about the Moukopl empire's divide-and-conquer tactics. "Could they really be pitting tribes against one another by selectively drafting men?" she muses. The idea sinks its claws into her, fitting too neatly with the unfairness they've just witnessed in Haikam. But before she can delve deeper into this thought, a burst of childish laughter breaks her reverie.

Up ahead, Naci is holding court among a gaggle of Haikam children. They're all eyes and ears as Naci lifts her young eagle, wings still not fully formed, from its perch. With an air of practiced drama, Naci extends her arm, and the eagle—more fluff than feathers—clumsily flaps its wings. The children clap and cheer, completely enamored.

Seeing an opportunity for some playful rivalry, Horohan raises her fingers to her lips and emits a sharp, piercing whistle. From the skies, a majestic shadow descends, circling once before landing gracefully on Horohan's extended arm. Khatan, her full-grown, regal eagle, eyes the scene below him with disdain, as if judging Naci's fledgling.

The children's attention shifts instantly, their eyes widening at the sight of the imposing bird of prey. Even some of the adults who were pretending not to watch steal glances.

"Ahem. Real eagle coming through," Horohan announces, unable to suppress her smug grin.

Naci shoots her a glare, visibly miffed at being upstaged. "Showing off, are we? Khatan is practically an elder compared to my little one here."