Enzo's eyes lit up. "Yes! That's it! A black backpack!"
Tia lowered her gaze. Her joy at his recognition was short-lived. Her tone softened with guilt. "I'm sorry… I didn't bring it back."
He blinked. "You didn't?"
"It was near the Big Boar's territory," she admitted. "I had to get you out of there quickly. I didn't want to risk getting caught... I thought saving you was more important. But if it matters, I'll go now and bring it back!"
She pulled away from him and stood, already reaching for her animal hide clothing. She snatched her wooden spear from the cave wall, determination burning in her eyes.
"Tia, wait!" Enzo called out, rising hastily.
She turned, resolute. "That pack might be important. I'll retrieve it, even if—"
"I'm the tribe's priest now," Enzo interrupted, using the calm but firm tone of command. "You're not disobeying me, are you?"
Her resolve faltered.
He softened. "You saved me. You brought me here. Without you, the tribe might have lost its next priest. You didn't fail—you may have saved the entire Crimson Star Tribe."
Her amber eyes shimmered, and a smile slowly spread across her face. "You really believe that?"
"I do," he said gently.
Tia relaxed and sat beside him again, the tension draining from her body.
Still, Enzo's thoughts lingered on the pack. From Tia's description, the Big Boar wasn't just any wild animal—it was unusually intelligent, extremely aggressive, and alert to danger. Getting close to it would be risky. A reckless approach would cost lives.
But that pack held tools crucial to survival: a sharp knife, strong nylon rope, and some food he'd foraged before the fall—simple but vital resources in a world like this.
It needed to be retrieved.
Enzo stepped outside the cave. Under Tia's guidance, he began surveying the tribe's camp.
The Crimson Star Tribe lived in a basin enclosed by hills on three sides. On the fourth side, where the forest pressed in, they had constructed a barrier of upright logs—an improvised wooden wall to deter beasts. The remaining three sides sloped into dugout dwellings, carved directly into the soft, rust-colored earth.
Enzo frowned. He could tell at a glance—this soil wasn't stable. The slightest heavy rainfall could cause landslides, collapsing the very homes they slept in.
The camp's defenses were primitive. Weapons were even worse—basic spears, their tips unreinforced. None had been fire-hardened. They might do against small game, but any encounter with stronger animals—or worse, hostile tribes—would prove disastrous.
He needed to make improvements.
He turned to Tia. "Gather the tribe's weaponsmiths. I need to speak with them."
Tia ran off, swift as ever.
Soon she returned, leading several older members to a campfire where Enzo waited.
One stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Priest, what would you ask of us?"
Tia gestured toward him. "This is Uncle Brian. He's the best craftsman we have. His spears can punch through a deer's hide."
Enzo smiled politely but thought to himself: That's a low bar to clear.
Still, the man stood proudly—until he turned toward Tia and scolded her. "Show some respect. You will address him as High Priest Enzo!"
Tia scoffed. "He said I could call him that."
The atmosphere tightened. Brian bristled, his stance rigid. Enzo stepped between them and said calmly, "Brian, Tia acted under my direction. You have no reason to object."
The man froze. "Of course not, Priest! Forgive me." He knelt, head bowed.
Enzo nodded. "It's alright. Stand up."
Respect for the priesthood ran deep. Only someone like Tia, with her stubborn spirit, dared break those norms—and even she held back when pushed.
That obedience had its uses.
"Brian," Enzo said, "do you know of any wood nearby that's especially flexible?"
The man scratched his beard. "Do you mean redwood, Priest?"
Enzo didn't know the local species. "Bring me a sample. And some well-treated vines, too."
Without hesitation, Brian left and soon returned with several lengths of reddish wood and a coil of woven rope.
Enzo tested the wood's flexibility—bending it nearly to a right angle before letting it spring back unharmed.
Perfect.
He got to work.
Within the hour, he'd crafted a simple yet effective bow, along with ten arrows. The shafts were carved from straight branches, their tips hardened over the fire. He used the vines to fasten feathers to the back ends for stability.
When it was done, he handed the bow to Tia. "Try it."
Her eyes lit up with excitement, and just as she was about to draw, Brian frowned again.
"Priest," he said carefully, "your technique is clever. But these weapons look fragile. Not strong enough to bring down real prey."
Enzo didn't respond immediately. Instead, he raised a brow and asked, "Then let's test it. You and Tia—one against the other."
Brian flinched at the suggestion, insult and pride warring on his face. "I was a warrior once," he said stiffly. "My spear has felled beasts! She—"
"She accepts," Enzo said for her, grinning. "Ten throws each. Let's see who hits the mark."
He drew two targets on the wooden wall nearby using a charred stick. They lined up at a fair distance.
Brian stepped forward first. His spear flew straight—but bounced harmlessly off the wall, leaving only dents. After several tries, he managed to graze the edge of the target a few times.
Tia took her turn.
Her first arrows flew wide. But she adjusted quickly—by the sixth shot, she was piercing the target cleanly. Her last few shots landed with impressive precision.
The difference was obvious.
Brian stared, stunned. "That... that was unexpected."
Enzo clapped him on the back. "You didn't lose. You just saw something new."
He retrieved the arrows and handed the bow to Brian. "Try it yourself."
The older man hesitated, then took the bow, nocked an arrow, and loosed it. The shaft struck the wall with a solid thunk.
A grin tugged at the edge of his mouth. "Priest… this changes everything."