The bitter chill of the tundra served as a dull reminder of the hostile environment to the two men of the Zhou Clan who had departed on their journey. Zhou Ping, the scout, and ruler and warrior Zhou Wang had left in search of another tribe who had left their mark on a neighbouring region. Zhou Ping would search for traces and trails, while Zhou Wang would protect him, should it be necessary. The two traveled for some time, but it was no more than a few days before their trek became quite a bit more interesting.
Whit had travelled northward, filled with both happy and anxious energy. The travel north had been uneventful, outside of a little fishing he’d simply followed the river for a few days. After reaching the coast, he turned back, a bit disappointed, but it was then that he heard voices - voices in a tongue like his, but with strange words he could not understand thrown in as well.
“These must be the folk whose tracks Jeth found!” thought Whit, anxiety and eagerness building in tandem.
With this combination of feelings stewing in him, Whit stowed his weapon, stepped out from the brush alongside the river, and called out:
“Hello there! I’m by the river and of no threat, so would you kindly come and talk?”
The two Zhou men jumped at the sound of the voice, both vision and weapon snapping to the direction that it came from. At the sight of a friendly face with weapon stowed, however, their weapons dropped to their sides and they walked closer.
“Greetings, friend. From what Clan do you hail?” Zhou Wang spoke to the unknown man, unsure if he would even understand the Zhou language.
Though a few words escaped him, Whit got the gist of what was said.
“I come from th’ Fergduns, due south a’ here. Now where do y'all come from?” said Whit, excited at the tale he could spin around the campfire about this.
The name was not familiar to Zhou Wang or Zhou Ping, having never in their lives encountered other clans.
“We are men of the Great Zhou Clan, of the tundra due west of this area. I am our leader, Zhou Wang, and this is our pathfinder and traveler Zhou Ping.”
Whit shared the look of confusion the two strangers had on their faces earlier. He hadn't the slightest knowledge of any other people outside of his clan, and to his chagrin had never encountered any other clans, despite his extensive travels.
“Nice t’ meet you, Zhou Wang and Zhou Ping. I thought ahead a’ time and brought a little gift from where we make our camp,” said Whit producing a handful of uncut rubies from his fur clothes “nice and shiny, carry the blessin’s of the lesser spirits too. I’d like you to have them, as a little gesture of peace between our two clans.”
Zhou Wang receives the rubies, bowing, as Zhou Ping does the same.
“We regret that we did not prepare a gift, as we were unsure if we would encounter friendly outsiders or hostile invaders. We will seek to remedy this as quickly as we can.”
“It’s fine by me, you not being out for me and mines’ throats is a gift enough out here in the wilds. Nice to know we have friends out here.” said Whit, relaxing.
The pair and Whit continued to talk for awhile, exchanging jokes, stories, and eventually more about their respective clans. The peaceful discussion last the remainder of the day, and the odd group set camp for night, again exchanging stories, this time with a more humorous and often mystical bent. They retired around midnight, with Whit taking first watch.
When dawn came, the Zhou and Whit parted ways, both happy that their nearby neighbors were friendly. It would seem that this first meeting was a fruitful one.
Fergdun Clan, Folk of the Cotton-Beaver River and Ruby Hills
A great sense of relief went through the clan at then news of Whit's peaceful contact with the neighboring Zhou clan. While they hadn't brought anything in exchange for the gift of rubies that Whit had brought, the fact that their leader himself had assured peace between the tribes and that they had made camp together eased the clan's once frayed nerves. Now, with their north flank secured, they could focus inward once again. The garden had improved it's yield, but some of the less-productive plants had to be planted in order to fill the whole garden. Maer and An would again see about improving yields in the garden, so that they could prepare for future years when the beavers grew few and the boars far away.
Speaking of boars, the menfolk would be heading south, both to hunt boars and to seek out where the groups of pigs kept their sows. The boars had provided ample meat and hide, but their location was so distant that hunts had to be conducted on a monthly basis at best, and some of the pork would be spoiled or rotten by the time the hunters returned to camp. Whit, riding high off his discovery and peaceful contact with the Zhou, had suggested this, and the clan agreed to the idea, though they did not take to the suggestion that they lead a herd of boars into their home territory. Jeth had described how the boars rooted around and ate whatever they could find, and the clan was against bringing in animals that could trample and devour the carefully maintained garden. So, the menfolk would hunt and study where the sows liked to gather, in anticipation of a possible capture later down the line.
The children continued their healthy growth, with Jean now old enough to assist Dia in her gathering. He spent most of his downtime deep in his daydreams, wondering about both about the world and it's spirits. He often thought up novel ideas - like a use for the strange jagged rocks found up north - but more than often he was advised against being too adventurous and conducting his own experiments. That time, he was told, would come when he became a man, and was given a duty by Maer. For now, he could dream all he liked - but he could only dream.
