Just as the weather was starting to feel like a paid actor, the fire finally went out for good.
The tribesmen soon noticed they could walk in and out of the ember circle without trouble, even though it had acted like a barrier against the flames.
Now the forest's wounds were plain to see. Trees had been reduced to cinders. A heavy smog clung to the air. There were no sounds of birds or beasts anywhere.
Their crude map showed that they were somewhere near the lower quarter of the river.
Considering no one was in any condition to keep moving, the group decided to settle inside the Circle. They gave it a name: the Sun Eater.
The Sun Eater also seemed to protect against rain. It showed no signs of degradation. A huge boon.
Conversation flowed slowly, kept alive only by exhaustion and worry. Most of it circled around their leader, the things he had done, and what they believed would come next.
The sun was finally starting to set, and only a few hunters still walked around, collecting rain and river water.
The Kramlins could go days on end without food, so hunger was not a problem yet.
But it would be. And they needed to prepare in advance.
Totat stood near the river, admiring its gentle flow despite the storm. He knew better than anyone that they could not continue like this. The forest was burnt to a crisp, and the group was in no condition to keep marching.
They had to find a way to bring animals to them, or find another source of food.
Animals usually kept their distance from settlements, so that option was unlikely.
"Another source of food?"
His own voice, drowned in the storm, seemed to peel back memories long forgotten.
Totat turned around and walked back toward Sun Eater. With every step, he struggled to find his footing in the damp, scorched soil.
The mud clung to his feet, pulling at him as if the earth itself wanted him to stay still.
When he looked down, he noticed the brown sludge coating his legs. Yet within that mud, Totat spotted something he did not expect to see.
A sprout.
He had no idea what kind of plant it was.
But a sprout was a sprout.
"How could something grow in land burned this severely?"
He crouched down. As he inspected the tiny bud forcing its way toward life, memories from long ago resurfaced, uninvited and vivid.
——
Back when he was still an infant, and while he was still part of a larger amalgamation of tribes, Totat used to play in the forest.
One day, an event the elders called a "dry storm" occurred. Lightning struck, yet no rain fell.
Such storms were exceedingly rare. In fact, Totat never experienced another one after that day.
The group, composed of five smaller clans of about fifty members each, took refuge in their encampment. Totat, like the other children, was called back to safety.
The night passed quietly, uneventful except for the biting cold, which Totat remembered particularly well.
When morning came and the lightning had ceased, the tribes left their hideout and resumed their activities.
Totat vividly remembered walking near the river, the same river the group occupied now, though far up north. There, he came upon a patch of earth thoroughly scorched. A bolt had struck a tree, reducing it to ashes instantly, and the ground around it was burnt as well.
Yet the river's water had reached a small section of that blackened soil. And that's when he saw it: for about one square meter, where the water met the burnt earth, plants had begun to sprout.
Amidst the charred soil, life thrived in that tiny patch.
Coming back to the present, Totat, now advanced in age, could clearly see the connection between those two events.
A grin spread across his face, one that didn't suit his elderish features.
"Ah… we have our answer…"
Indeed, Totat had uncovered something primordial, something essential for the tribe's survival. Where survival demanded adaptation, people thrived. And, Totat was no exception.
"The controlled growth of plants…"
This time, he wasn't limited to a single square meter. He had, practically, an entire forest at his disposal.
"Agriculture."