Later that morning, after the circle had dispersed and the villagers had returned to their daily work, Anna noticed Mike lingering near the edge of the clearing. His hands were still rough and bruised from being bound, and his eyes darted nervously toward the villagers, as if expecting them to strike at any moment.
He stepped closer to her, keeping a careful distance. "Anna," he said quietly, his voice low and hesitant, "I… I want to tell them I won't make trouble. Please… can you tell them for me?"
Anna looked at him, reading the fear in his posture and the tension in his face. She nodded slowly. "I will tell them," she said firmly. "But you must understand—you need to show them, not just tell. Actions speak louder than words here."
Mike swallowed hard, then reached into a small bundle he had been carrying. He pulled out a roughly carved piece of wood and a sharp stone, showing Anna how he could attach them to make a crude axe for chopping wood. He mimicked the motions carefully, demonstrating how it could be used safely for work.
Anna studied his movements and nodded approvingly. "This is good," she said. "You can help the tribe like this. But you need to be careful. If you hurt anyone, even by accident, they won't forgive easily."
He lowered his head, a mixture of gratitude and nervousness in his expression. "I… I understand. I want to live here. I will learn to speak their words. I… I will work."
Anna translated his words carefully to Kehnu and a few of the elder villagers who had gathered nearby. They listened silently, their eyes assessing him, watching his posture, his tone, the honesty in his gestures. When she finished, she added her own warning: "He will work and help, but he must follow your rules. Any aggression, and there will be consequences."
Mike nodded quickly, almost too eagerly. "Thank you," he whispered to Anna. "Thank you for speaking for me."
Kehnu gave a small, approving nod, then turned to Mike. "Work. Learn. Speak. Respect." His tone was calm, but the authority in it left no room for misinterpretation.
Anna exhaled slowly, feeling a measure of relief. If he truly meant what he said, the tribe would gain another helpful hand, and Mike might just survive. But she knew the real test would come over the days, in the work he did and the care he took not to cross the tribe's strict boundaries.
For now, though, she allowed herself a small moment of hope.
Anna told Kehnu everything Mike had promised, how he wanted to learn and help, and how scared he seemed. Kehnu listened carefully, nodding, his eyes thoughtful. "We will observe him," he said finally. "But we will let him into our circle… slowly. Step by step."
Anna exhaled, feeling some relief. Kehnu's calm presence always made things feel safer. Then he looked at her with a hint of concern. "I will sleep near your hut tonight," he said quietly. "If you feel scared… if anything happens. We will always protect you. I will always protect you."
Anna felt heat rise to her cheeks, her stomach twisting in a mix of gratitude and something else she couldn't name. She looked down quickly, hiding her face in her hands. "No… no, I'm fine," she whispered, trying to steady her voice.
Kehnu tilted his head, confused. "You feel sick?"
She shook her head rapidly, cheeks still warm. "No… I'm fine," she repeated, but her shyness betrayed her.
Kehnu simply nodded, respecting her space, though a small, knowing smile touched his lips.
Later, as she continued her work with clay, jerky, and the salt experiments, Kehnu quietly observed and supported her. Whenever she tried a new technique for the tribe, he encouraged her. If she hesitated or doubted herself, he would offer advice or simply a steadying presence, never pushing, but always there.
She realized slowly that she could count on him—not just for safety, but for support in her ideas, her experiments, and her efforts to help the tribe. His presence became a silent reassurance, and for the first time in a long while, she felt the quiet strength of having someone truly at her side.
The next day, Anna woke early, checking the jerky and salted fish from previous trials. She rotated strips carefully, testing a few with small bites to make sure nothing spoiled. Her hands smelled faintly of salt and smoke, and her mind focused entirely on the process.
A few villagers gathered around, observing quietly at first. Slowly, they started to mimic her actions—laying thin slices of meat near the embers, sprinkling salt, carefully hanging fish near the small cave fire. Kehnu watched from the side, occasionally nodding to them, giving silent approval.
Anna moved between her own preparations and guiding the observers. She experimented with layering salt differently, arranging strips to allow better airflow, and adjusting proximity to the fire. Each time she saw a slight improvement in texture or smell, she smiled quietly, feeling a spark of pride.
By mid-day, more villagers were actively participating. Men returned from small hunting trips with more meat, and women brought freshly caught fish from the nearby streams. Anna showed them how to clean, slice, and prepare the food for drying. Slowly, the cave began to fill with neatly arranged strips of meat and fish, each carefully salted and spaced.
Kate played nearby with other children, watching her mother work. She giggled as a small piece of jerky fell from a string, and Anna chuckled softly, ruffling her hair.
By evening, a noticeable stockpile had formed. Anna stepped back and observed the scene: villagers who had once only watched now worked confidently, copying her methods. "We have… enough to last a few days, maybe more," she thought. Pride mixed with relief as she realized her knowledge was not just helping her family—it was becoming a shared skill, strengthening the tribe's ability to survive.
Kehnu came over, standing beside her quietly. "You are teaching them well," he said simply, his calm voice carrying approval. Anna nodded, feeling the weight and satisfaction of her work: each piece of jerky and fish represented not just food, but security for everyone.
The small cave, once just a temporary shelter, now hummed with purpose, activity, and the quiet buzz of a community slowly learning to protect and sustain itself.