Alpha of Smoke
In the center, a fire burns bright, the flames stretchin’ high, cracklin’ against the hush of the evenin’.
A group of elders stand nearest the fire, their voices liftin’ in a chant, their language smooth and rich like a river flowin’ over stone. Around them, warriors stand with their arms crossed over their chests, heads bowed in reverence.
“What do you reckon this is?” I ask Chet through the mind-link.
He watches carefully before answerin’. “A ceremony. Something sacred.”
We step closer, careful to be respectful, not wantin’ to interrupt.
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