The sun was sinking low behind the hills when the trader began walking toward Joran’s compound, his heavy boots pressing against the dusty road. The air felt thick, almost watchful, and even the birds seemed to hold their breath. Joran was outside the compound, sitting quietly on a wooden bench, lost in thought when he noticed a shadow moving from a distance. He squinted his eyes, trying to see clearly who it was.As the figure drew closer, Joran’s heart began to beat faster. The man’s shape, his gait—it all felt familiar. Then, as the rays of the fading sun caught the man’s face, realization hit him like a spark of lightning. It was the trader.A sudden wave of unease washed through Joran’s chest. His legs trembled slightly. He didn’t know what the trader wanted or why he was coming directly to his home. But something about the man’s expression told him this wasn’t an ordinary visit. Still, he swallowed his fear and steadied himself, forcing his hands to stop shaking. He refused to l

It was already deep into the night when Darren finally returned from the forest. His clothes were dusty, his face drawn with weariness. The moon was hanging faintly above the trees as he led his way home through the silent path, the sound of crickets echoing all around. His steps were slow and heavy — every muscle in his body ached from the long day of hunting.When he reached the compound, the house was still lit by the faint glow of the kitchen lamp. He could smell the food still lingering in the air. Inside, his parents were sitting at the table having supper, speaking softly to each other.He pushed the door open and greeted them, “Good evening, Father. Good evening, Mother.”His father looked up sharply, surprised to see him coming in that late. “Darren,” he said slowly, “where have you been? It’s already past nightfall. You were supposed to be back long before now.”Darren sighed and rubbed his neck. “I was in the forest, Father. I stayed too long hunting. I missed a lot of anim

The sun was standing directly overhead when Joran arrived once again at Darren’s compound. It was exactly noon—he knew because the shadows of the trees were short and sharp, sitting right beneath their trunks as if they were hiding from the light. The day was hot, the air thick with dust, and Joran’s frustration had already been building since morning. His walk from his own compound felt longer than usual, each step reminding him of his anger, his confusion, and the fear he tried so hard to hide.As he reached Darren’s compound, he stopped for a moment and looked around. Everything appeared calm—too calm for the storm that had been raging inside him for the past hours. He expected to see Darren sitting somewhere outside, sharpening a blade or feeding one of the animals he kept. But instead, the compound looked empty. Silent.That silence angered him more.He marched to the small wooden door and knocked loudly. The first set of knocks echoed across the yard. He waited. Nothing. He knoc

In due time, Joran finally returned from where he had gone earlier that day. As he approached his compound, a strange uneasiness washed over him. He could not explain why, but something in his spirit warned him that something might be wrong in the house or with his parents. The air felt heavier than usual, and even the quiet breeze brushing against the trees seemed to whisper danger. By the time he stepped onto the front doorstep, his chest tightened with worry.He pushed the door open gently, expecting to hear the familiar sounds of home—his mother humming in the kitchen, his father tuning the old radio, maybe even a pot boiling on the fire. But instead, the house was disturbingly silent. No voices. No radio. Not even the sound of movement. Only the faint creaking of the wooden floor met his ears. That silence alone was enough to make Joran feel that something terrible might have happened.He stepped inside, looking from one corner of the room to the other. Everything seemed untouche

After Darren had finished his breakfast, he felt a wave of exhaustion settle over him. The hunt had drained much of his energy, yet the tension between him, Joran, and the trader weighed heavier on his mind than physical fatigue ever could. He rose quietly from the table, thanked his parents with a soft nod, and walked to his bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door gently behind him and sat on the edge of his bed. For a long while, Darren simply stared at the floor, his mind racing. He thought of Joran, his best friend, and how their relationship had been strained lately because of the trader’s interference. He considered how he might approach Joran to mend the situation, yet a deep reluctance stayed in his chest. “What if he doesn’t listen?” he whispered to himself. “What if he’s already decided that he doesn’t want to see me?” The thought made him tense. Darren leaned back against the wall, rubbing his eyes slowly. Then his mind shifted to the trader. The memory of Rurik’s threa