Regaining his friends in the Sun Eater, Totat shared his discovery with the tribe.
"We have to settle down here. This is the perfect place to live."
The skeptical looks on the faces of the clansmen told him he would need more than enthusiasm to convince them.
So he showed them the small green bud he had nearly stepped on earlier.
"This fire was a blessing in disguise. The charred soil mixed with the heavy rain created… something. I am not sure how, but life sprouted from this."
He raised the sprout so all could see.
"And I have seen this before. Plants grow well after a disaster."
They still bore questioning expressions. Totat continued.
"What I'm saying is that if we can harness this boon, we can grow food from the earth. We wouldn't have to hunt for every meal anymore."
That got them talking. The idea of growing food sounded ridiculous, almost insulting in its simplicity.
"So let me get this straight," began one of the hunters. "You want us, a group with maybe fifteen able fighters, to quit hunting, something we've done our whole lives, so we can take a chance on… what? This 'plant growing thing'?"
Most of the tribe nodded. The idea felt preposterous.
"That's where you're wrong, Fibro," Totat replied.
He walked toward the edge of the Sun Eater, each step deliberate, until he reached Jermal, still lying unconscious, breathing softly.
"We have him. We have magic on our side. We have God on our side."
Totat's voice grew stronger. His back straightened. For a moment, it seemed as if age slipped off him like an old cloak and he stood as the warrior he once was.
"We all saw what happened. God granted us his power and saved us from the flame. We were granted this invisible wall, the Sun Eater, as well. He has given us shelter and food. We only have to claim it."
His voice seemed to persuade his companions little by little.
Jermalin voiced his thoughts.
"I say it is worth a try. Totat told me that we mortals cannot fathom the will of the Hollow Eye. Certainly, He sees what we do not. Surely, He understands what we cannot comprehend."
He rose from his seared position and walked toward the elder and Jermal.
"One thing seems clear. This God led us here. I think the Sun Eater is proof of that, a landmark for generations to come."
He paused for a moment. Feeling every gaze fixed on him, he continued.
"And that is exactly it. Future generations. Which means settling here is the solution. Or rather, the answer to our dilemma."
Every Kramlin present took a moment to consider this perspective.
The silence that followed was different from the quiet that had filled the Sun Eater earlier. This one felt heavy with possibility. Not fear. Not confusion. Something else entirely. Hope, fragile yet present.
Totat clasped his hands behind his back and turned toward the center of the clearing. The rain had softened to a gentle drizzle, and the air smelled of wet ash. He stepped toward the spot where the lone sprout had been found, as if it were a sacred relic.
"Then it is decided," he said. "Tomorrow, at dawn, we begin."
A few of the hunters exchanged uncertain looks, but now they did not protest. Instead, they drifted closer, drawn by Totat's certainty and Jermalin's resolve.
"What do we begin with?" asked Fibro, scratching his chin.
Totat gave him a smile that was far too confident for someone who had never grown a single plant in his life.
"We learn."
He knelt by the sprout. The tiny leaf trembled in the breeze.
"This soil is rich. It has swallowed fire, yet breathes life. We need only understand how to work with it."
Jermalin lowered himself beside him. His eyes lingered on the sprout and then shifted to the dark outer ring of ash encircling the Sun Eater.
"We build our homes here. We test the soil in different places. We see what grows."
Totat nodded.
"We do not abandon hunting entirely. Not yet. But if even a handful of plants survive our efforts, it will change everything."
The idea sat with them. Slowly, steadily, it settled into their bones.
A future where they did not wander endlessly. A future where children would not starve when prey vanished for days. A future where they could thrive, not just endure.
A settlement.
The thought felt unreal.
As the sun slipped beneath the horizon, painting the scorched forest in shades of gold and charcoal, the Kramlins gathered in a circle around the sprout. Small, fragile, almost insignificant.
Yet to them, it was a promise.
Tomorrow, the work would begin.