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I had a dream.
In that dream, I found myself in a frozen hemisphere. Everything around me was covered in snow and ice. The air was sharp and biting, and each step I took crunched beneath my feet. I trudged through the vast, snow-covered field, searching for something—though I had no idea what.
Then, I stopped.
A pack of hungry wolves surrounded me, their eyes glowing with hunger, their breath misting in the cold air. Before they had a chance to pounce, a deep rumble of thunder echoed from the south. The sound was so sudden and powerful that all the wolves—and I—instinctively turned toward it.
A storm was brewing on the horizon, massive and dark, swallowing the sky as it surged forward. Shadows stretched across the land, consuming everything in their path. Just as the storm was about to reach me—
I woke up.
I'm inside a tent.
I wasn't in the snow anymore. Instead, I found myself surrounded by a group of people, all cloaked with their heads covered. They sat in silence, forming a circle around me. Judging by the way they remained quiet, it seemed they were here to discuss something—about me.
I glanced down.
I was only wearing a leather tunic, its rough texture brushing against my skin. From above, the scene must have looked like a group of adults surrounding a lone teenager.
As my eyes adjusted, I took in more of my surroundings. We were inside a massive tent—easily large enough to hold over fifty people. The dimly lit interior made it difficult to make out their faces, but I could tell they were all of giant stature. I felt small—literally.
The only exit I could see was a single doorway, guarded by two figures gripping spears.
The murmuring around me grew louder as they noticed I was awake. Then, before long, one person stood up.
She looked familiar. She was the one who had carried me here—but now that I saw her clearly, she seemed older, more mature. A black fur cape draped over her shoulders, and she wore armor crafted from animal skins—both on her chest and lower garments. Around her neck, various necklaces made of teeth, bones, and vibrantly colored feathers hung.
If this group had a leader—she was it.
The moment she stood, the murmurs died down. Then, she began to speak. Her voice was steady, authoritative, and sometimes punctuated with gestures toward me. She spoke for what felt like a quarter of an hour before the tent flaps rustled open.
Three women entered.
The first woman to step inside was the same one who had carried me here—the same person I had seen through my binoculars. She seemed cheerful, even excited, as the people welcomed her. The two women behind her received similar reactions, though one of them seemed noticeably less enthusiastic.
The three approached the chief and stood before her.
With a solemn air, the chief reached for her necklaces and removed two. One bore two canine teeth, the other a small bone, about the size of a baby's pinky finger. She handed them to the first woman—the one who had carried me—while patting her back in approval. Judging by the warmth of the exchange, they were mother and daughter.
Next, she presented the second woman—who had been injured—with a pendant that held a single canine tooth.
Finally, she turned to the third woman and handed her a necklace adorned with two feathers, one green and one red. Unlike the first two, however, she accepted it with little enthusiasm.
With the awards distributed, the three women took their seats behind the chief.
Then, the atmosphere shifted.
The chief spoke again, but this time, the energy in the tent grew heavy—gloomy.
They must be mourning that shaman…
My thoughts were confirmed as she continued speaking. A few minutes later, she called someone forward.
A woman emerged from the crowd, dressed exactly like the fallen shaman—the one who had been killed by a spear. She approached the chief and knelt before her. In response, the chief handed her a staff—though it was noticeably less imposing than the one the previous shaman had carried.
Then, the new shaman turned to me.
She stepped closer, bending down until her face was near mine.
A cold sweat trickled down my back.
Are they blaming me for the shaman's death? Will they take their anger out on me?
My mind raced with worst-case scenarios, but I forced myself to stay silent. I had no idea what they were saying, so I kept my mouth shut.
But the new shaman didn't give up so easily.
At the chief's command, she began chanting. Her voice wove through the air in a hypnotic rhythm. After a few seconds, her eyes began to glow—bright, unnatural, almost like LED lights. Then, just as suddenly, the glow faded, and she staggered, barely managing to keep herself upright by gripping her staff.
She turned toward me and spoke.
"किं त्वं अवगच्छसि?"
"你明白嗎?"
"わかりますか?"
"Est-ce que tu comprends?"
And finally—
"Do you understand?"
I froze.
How—how can she speak like that?!
My head was spinning. Until now, I hadn't understood a single word spoken in this place. But suddenly, this girl—this shaman—was speaking in the major languages of Earth.
I exhaled sharply, steadying my thoughts. If she could speak my language, then maybe—just maybe—I was still on Earth.
Before she could say anything else, I answered.
"Yes. I understand what you're saying."
A small smile appeared on her lips. "My name is Meliss. And the person beside me is Lani, our great hunter chief. It was her daughter who brought you here." Her tone carried pride, especially when she mentioned Lani.
I hesitated before responding. "My name is Denis Ngilneia. And… where am I?"
Meliss exchanged a glance with the chief before replying. "You are in the ancestral range of the Lula Tribe, known as 'The Strong.' And you…" she paused, choosing her next words carefully, "are here to help us—"
I cut her off. "I mean… is this Earth?"
Meliss blinked in confusion.
"What's Earth?" she asked, tilting her head. "Is it some kind of animal?"
I stared at her, my stomach sinking.
She wasn't joking.
She had no idea what Earth was.
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