By G.R. Nanda

For two weeks, Nickel and Farrul worked with the people of the tribe, hunting, cooking and cleaning up after the remnants of the Atlantic Tribe’s activities. They joined in the routines of the tribespeople, oftentimes struggling to keep up with people who had been doing these activities a certain way for their whole lives. Their fingers became chafed and cold when they scrubbed rough stone plates with cold water collected from slimy green kupernacle leaves. While they both struggled, Farrul fared better, having lived in the Desolate Plains of the Atlantic longer. While Farrul could suck off his fingers and move on to the next activity, Nickel would often exhale warm air onto his palms, numb from cold after cleaning with water for several minutes to hours. Farrul and the rest of the tribespeople hardly ever waited for Nickel to finish before moving away for the next task. 

The most tedious activity was harvesting kupernacle leaves. In the back of the tribe’s encampment behind all of the huts and squares were rows of a few cows and chickens, all mellow and splotched with strange colors due the power plant accident’s effect on these animals’ forebearers. Behind the cows were dozens of rows of kupernacle plants. Their thick and green stems and leaves fluttered and flapped in the winds, stiff enough to withstand the climate. 

When Nickel and Farrul had first been brought to the plants, Nickel had noticed that the patch of plants had been placed in a part of the encampment where there weren’t as many spires and broken power plant towers shadowing the earth. A large gap in the looming spires was directly above the patch, allowing room for the sun, however cold and lifeless it was, to shine down. 

After brushing away globs of gooey green and slightly pungent smelling slime that had formed along the leaves, Nickel and Farrul used thin stone blades that almost looked like arrowheads to slice open the leaves.  The damp smell of vegetation would waft out of the plant. It was the most lifelike thing Nickel had ever smelled in the Desolate Plains

The two of them squeezed out moisture from the soft light colored hexagonal holes embedded inside of the leaves into a stone pitcher. 

In a matter of a week, Nickel and Farrul got very accustomed to stone. From stone tools to stone huts, stone was everywhere. Stone was the Atlantic Tribe’s way of life. Rough, hard and uneven. It was a substance that looked like frozen molten lava and gave off a thick, almost suffocating metallic scent. 

Every day on the West Wing, the sound of shovels and pickaxes hitting the bank of stone in the earth far away filled the air, its ring echoing and reverberating.  

The two of them didn’t get much time to become fully acquainted with the people of the tribe, nonetheless the adolescents were the people they interacted with the most. They were instructed not to perform the acht-chi alongside their peers during the windstorms due to their previous exhaustion and the fact that they would become sicker if they tried to. They did not have the same physiological makeup as the rest of the tribespeople which made them so accustomed to the acht-chi. Nickel and Farrul sometimes felt alienated.

They always camped out inside of the nearest hut they could find while  everyone else joined in the astral state of the acht-chi, hyperfocused on their movements until they retired to bed and entered dreamstates full of astral visions and the cryptic lyrics of the singing sorceress. 

Life was a haze of non-stop work and routine with minimal opportunities to socialize or play. Life was either the sour and damp scent of the fog outside or the sour, musty and metallic scent of the stone huts. 

Even though their work and residence with the Atlantic Tribe had continued for only a few days, it was already starting to feel like months of gruelling existence to Nickel. It was work and mutterings amongst each other for socialization, then hiding out in a hut while the rest of the tribe did the acht-chi, becoming distant inaccessible agents of the orange fog which continued to permeate life and the environment. 

In the few movements of company in the small huts, Nickel was at odds with the culture around him. He slept every night with the same group of boys he was assigned to do labor with. He still didn’t get along with the three boys, whose names he found out to be Ahmick, Arolé and Chickel. While he didn’t have much time to speak with them, when he did, he was responding to their taunts. 

Li, still promising to show Nickel and Farrul harshness, was indifferent to the gang’s behavior. However, it was clear he was fine with them, as he viewed their behavior as a part of the harshness that supposedly kpet activities going and the youngsters disciplined. Too bad for Nickel that Li held quite a bit of authority, especially with the teenage boys.

Nickel badly wanted to speak to Elder Hawk or Steve, the only people who could take the time to speak in depth with Nickel about his circumstance in this tribe’s rigor and non-stop routine. 

But Elder Hawk was closed off for the week, meditating in her hut until the end of the week when Nickel and Farrul’s birthing ceremony would occur. 

Steve was still sick and he was recuperating inside of one of the infirmary huts where caretakers guarding the sick assured Nickel that he would be able to see and talk to Steve soon. 

What he wanted more than to be able to talk to Elder Hawk or Steve was to be able to climb aboard his American Eagle hovercraft. The hovercraft’s hole from the collision of the tribespeople on the night of Nickel, Steve and Farrul’s arrival had been covered with a tarp. It was left where it had crashed and He-Hawk and She-Hawk had instructed that the surrounding area be cleared. A vehicle from the Past World must not be approached any time soon by the people of the hawk. 

The switching watchkeepers of the tribe kept a careful eye on the hovercraft, making sure no one approached it. One time, Nickel saw a small boy run toward the hovercraft before being wrestled off the ground by a watchkeeper who ran towards the boy and carried him away as he wailed and wailed until the watchkeeper’s hands covered his mouth. 

Nickel was tempted to grab Steve and Farrul and fly away on the hovercraft, resuming their expected journey to Hedonim. He had even discussed it with Farrul at bedtime, but they had always been too exhausted to keep the whispering going long into the night. 

Nickel and Farrul had both been promised by He-Hawk and She-Hawk that after the birthing ceremony, a repair, prayer and blessing from Great Father Hawk would ensue for the hovercraft’s safety, setting it off for its journey to Hedonim. 

“You guys broke our hovercraft and you think prayers are going to fix it?” Farrul had angrily complained to She-Hawk. Nickel had been thinking the same thing. 

“You’ve already been told it was a necessary precaution!”  said He-Hawk, causing Nickel and Farrul to sigh in exasperation. 

“I sense distrust in both of you.  I don’t think it’s that you don’t trust us– the people of my tribe.  I think you–  don’t- trust  our way of the Hawk.  You don’t trust our religion.” 

“That is-  correct,”  blurted Farrul, again speaking out loud what Nickel had been thinking. 

“I know that the only thing that’s stopping you from leaving is that we give you a place to sleep and regular food to eat that’s better than what you’re used to,” said He-Hawk,  eyeing both of them. 

Nickel’s heart sank.  A sinking feeling welled in Nickel’s chest and he looked down, away from He-Hawk’s eyes. He felt as if his cover had been blown.

“I know you think our religion is crazy nonsense. I can’t blame you. You’re from the Past World.”

“Look around. You’ll see the movement of My Tribe. You’ll see our discipline, our hunt and the feasts that follow. The people of the Hawk have lived like this for generations, starting way before we were born.”

“In the harshest of places, a group of people flourished. All thanks to an idea. Thanks to a religion.”

“Trust……………….. In Great Father Hawk, Past Worlders.”

“Trust in his people.”

“He will not see you or your….. Hovercraft here for long. To him everything happens for a reason. I promise you will leave with more from us than what we have taken away in hurting your vehicle.  The hurt will be the smallest compared to what we give you.”

A windstorm took over, forcing Nickel and Farrul to take cover while He-Hawk performed the acht-chi and took over the tribe affairs. 

If not for wind storms, the both of them might not have been so accepting of all the things the tribespeople told them. Whenever the fog sticking in the winds quickened, obscuring Nickel and Farrul’s world more than it was already obscured, they were extremely helpless. Unless they wanted to be flattened by the air or spend the next day coughing and retching from polluted lungs, they had to drop everything and follow whoever was around to follow.

Following. It seemed like that was all that Nickel did. He had felt the glimmer of agency when he took Farrul and Steve on his hovercraft and initiated phase hop. Now agency seemed to have disappeared. Although, he often thought to himself in the small pieces of wakefulness before slumber wrapped its tendrils over his mind, about what he had expected. His hovercraft was low on fuel. And he had no idea what lay beyond. This was the Atlantic Plains after all. There was no way the journey to Hedonim would be smooth. Was it even possible to have agency in the Desolate Plains of the Atlantic? Did Elder Hawk have agency? Steve? He-Hawk? She-Hawk? Li? Any of the people in the Atlantic tribe? Everyone here seemed to be under a spell. A very strong spell. Their words felt stilted and filled with ecstasy. It was hard not to see any other way when almost every instruction, thought, story or explanation was followed by an appraisal, prayer or meditation to Great Father Hawk in the likes of “Praise Father Hawk” or “the way of the Hawk lives on.” 

The tribespeople looked at him as if he didn’t have agency. He heard older women making tsking sounds during his conversations with them. They would shake their heads and mutter things like, “you poor Past Worlder,” “there’s so much of the Past World in you, so it’s not your fault,” or “may Father Hawk save you.”

When he worked with boys and girls his age on their various chores, Nickel’s confusion and reluctance to embrace the religion of the hawk was seen as a weakness. His confusion, reluctance and suspicions were met with annoyance. People jeered at him to go back to work or just ignored his complaints and questions.  

After a while, Nickel gave up trying to control and understand his situation with his peers. 

 The inquiry and non-adherence that Nickel saw as his strength, distinguishing himself from what he saw as the Atlantic tribes “primitive culture,” was often seen by many of his peers and surrounding adults as one of his greatest weaknesses.

Nickel caught enough flack and derision for it that he settled for quiet submission. Following. He didn’t know if he could take much more of it. 

“Just wait until the birthing ceremony,”  he would tell himself. “Just– wait.”

“You’ll be back on your hovercraft with two other hopefully badass girls from the tribe to help you get to Hedonim.”

Trying to pinpoint the supposedly bad ass chicks while he had all of his work to do was difficult. The concentration he had usually found for ruminating on the ideas and the questions in his head had grown significantly more fickle.

Waiting. And waiting. For the birthing ceremony. 

 The night before it was the most restless night he had with the tribe. 

He was woken up in the morning an hour earlier than usual by Li, Aziz, Jerome and two other scruffy-haired young men. They all wore red robes decorated in feathers of the same hue. Their robes were long and baggy, enveloping their torsos and legs. Each of them had leather or twine belts fastened at their waists. They all had solemn, but peaceable expressions showing in the torchlight. 

“Get up,” whispered Aziz. Everyone else sprawled on the floor beside Nickel was still laying asleep while some snored away. “No time to wait. Get up.”

Fighting his grogginess and feeling of heaviness, Nickel scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could.  His heart beat wildly. 

 The man who had stood still in a circle around him moved towards Farrul, breaking a circle and moving in a straight line, stepping over and around slumbering bodies. 

Nickel stood behind them as the slightly shorter of the scruffy-haired boys bent over to nudge Farrul awake with his hand. Farrul grumbled as he awoke. He scowled and pushed the boy’s hands away. Aziz bent down next to the scruffy-haired boy and nudged Farrul as well. Aziz wore a grim expression with wide unforgiving eyes.

He whispered into Farrul’s face. His face melted into mere resentment. 

The deathly silence of dozens of slumbering bodies made Aziz’s whisper just barely audible to Nickel.

It had sounded like, “you cannot deny the birthing ceremony.”

Farrul struggled to stand up, but managed. He looked at Nickel with weary red eyes held up by dark bags of skin. The two of them stared at each other with solemn eyes, wearing expressions of dreadful submission. They had submitted to the Atlantic tribe and it seemed too late to do much about it. Their eyes, upon meeting each other, indicated their shared burden. They looked at each other with empathy. They had come a long way since when they had first met and clashed with each other. Farrul had come to accept Nickel as a part of his circumstance. And he had allowed Nickel to join in his circumstance.

Nickel and Farrul now shared circumstances. By staying with Steve and Farrul, Nickel had accepted a shared circumstance. They interacted with a shared goal of escaping the Desolate Plains by first traveling to Hedonim. All the while, they were subject to the circumstances– the limitations of the desolate Plains and its wind storms.

Now, it seemed that they had accepted the Atlantic Tribe into their circumstance. Now, Nickel and Farrul were not only subject to the limitations and circumstances of the desolate Plains, but also to the limitations and circumstances of the Atlantic Tribe. 

All these thoughts registered in Nickel’s mind during the period of mere seconds in which his eyes met Farrul’s in shared empathy. 

The two of them were patted by the surrounding standing men who brushed them into their instinctive row of walkers, heading for the door.

Nickel realized that in order to get help in the desolate Plains– in order to move towards a better future on the American Mainland, he was going to have to accept new people and places– and in doing so, accept new circumstances and limitations. 

Before he could truly ponder on these revelations, Li opened the door. He was immediately bombarded by the scene of the tribe before him. 

In the large looming wall behind the rows of huts were lights that were bigger and brighter than any on there before.

Flares of long flames were set up in the gaping holes that dotted the body. The faint echo of drums could be heard emanating from inside the wall. 

Inside of some of the windows were tribespeople in brightly colored red, orange, yellow and white feathers dancing in hopping and sweeping motions, bouncing on their toes and swinging their arms and heads from across one side to another. They sometimes disappeared from the view of the window and often reappeared behind another window.

On the jagged tops of the wall was a precarious stone platform. It was long and narrow. Across it, two more dancers somersaulted back and forth between two archers who stood still, looking ahead. 

The pounding of the drums grew into a louder, faster beat. 

Nickel and Farrul’s escorts paused in the middle of the wide stone walkway, looking at the wide looming wall in the far off distance.

“What happened to keeping watch?” muttered Nickel.

“Our main archers are still there, keeping watch, hidden as usual,”  said Jerome, breaking the singularity of the beating drums with his deep throaty voice.

The dancers grew frenetic, somersaulting faster, whipping their torsos and limbs faster; the two dancers on top entwined their arms and moved backwards and forwards, twitching and shaking each other as if they were wrestling.

The beat grew frenetic alongside them, becoming faster and louder. It was thundering, reaching for its crescendo. Lower pitched and faster drumming was suddenly thrown into the mix, patterning in between each larger beat. 

The crescendo was reached at a final boneshaking slam, when at the same time, the dancers all reached for the ground in a still silence. 

The dancers on the top platform had both let go of each other and bent down on their knees, placing their fists on the surface.

The Archers who were standing still on opposite sides reached for the bows and quivers slung over their back. Once in their hands and once an arrowhead was notched for each, they released.

Arrows were sent outwards, away from the shooters: one straight ahead into the back reaches of the village where Elder Hawk resided and one diagonally over the huts opposite from Nickel. 

The arrows disappeared into the East Wing to the left of the square in which Nickel stood. He and the man beside him turned to see the arrows disappear in a gap between two stone plates and the two tall stone posts they rested on, both contraptions that had not been set up the night before.

Nickel and the men beside him craned their necks, looking over and around the empty smelting station that was in front of the posts. 

Steam came out from under the plates. The stone posts shuddered. The steam started to come out in billowing swaths. Flames shot out from the opening. The plates clattered as they shook, held to the post by narrow pieces that looked like twine.

The hiss of the steam was replaced by a billowing sound as fire roared out on top of the plates, shooting upwards in tall flames.

“Woah,”  whispered Nickel.

A half gasp- half grunt was emitted, seemingly from Farrul. 

“To the fire,” said Aziz and the group of individuals started towards the posts.

By G.R. Nanda

“Birthing ceremony,” thought Nickel, pondering over its meaning. “Birthing………………..ceremony.” If he could figure out that one phrase, he might be able to parse through all of the other phrases and their conjoining sentences that had just bombarded him. 

“Birthing,” he whispered. His head lolled to the right and his eyes glazed over. “………………ceremo-.” He was jostled by the tall curly haired boy who brushed past him, unaware of Nickel as he whispered excitedly to another boy. They were both among the many people exiting the hut. They were all a mixed concoction of moods and expressions: happy, overwhelmed, disgruntled, ecstatic and furious. 

Li stood at the opposite wall from Nickel, shouting orders.

“Okay! Layla, Karful, Ji– all of you guys, outside at the smelting station in less than five minutes!” he pointed through the crowd and tapped the stout boy who had spoken out loud earlier. Once he got his attention, Li slapped three clustered boys behind him. “You four, it’s your turn to hunt with ole’ man.” The stout boy and two of the boys behind him grinned. Another boy’s head sank, looking dejected. 

Li continued shouting orders at people who exited the hut. 

When the mass of walking people had nearly all left, Li shouted at the people who stayed put. 

“Stay here for a while! Only a while! We’ll be out on the forefront dealing with the evening’s hawk hunt. Today’s a fling cutter fry-.”

“Ooooooh!” exclaimed a lanky boy standing at the back of the room, interrupting Li. He patted his small stomach. “I like that.”

“Shut up, Liver,” said Li. “Your appetite won’t waste our time. Another word about what tastes good and I’ll have to stick you outside of the huts cold on no plates for a month.” 

The boy, Liver slouched into himself, looking downtrodden. Two taller boys standing to the left of him smirked, eyed each other and snickered. A third squat boy sitting down to the left of the laughing boys looked up at them and snickered too. 

“Yeah, Li!” said the boy right next to Liver. “Stick im’ cold!”

“Do it!”growled the skinny boy next to him in a voice that was higher and rougher. “Stick Liver cold!”

Li ignored the two of them. 

“You two,” said Li, snapping his fingers on his right hand and pointing at Nickel and Farrul. “You’re up with them. They’re gonna fry up the hawk and stick em’ in the spindles.”

Nickel opened his mouth. 

“I-,” he started. “I- uh- I.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Ah, but that doesn’t matter,” said Li, shaking his head. “You better watch and learn with them.”

“If I can’t be hard on you, that won’t matter,” growled Li. “Because our world will be hard on you on its own.” 

Li sneered at Nickel. 

“Welcome to the land of the Hawk.” 

With that, he swung the door and upon stepping over onto foggy ground, slammed it shut. He could still be heard barking orders on the outside. 

Nickel looked up at the ceiling, eyes glazed and mouth ajar. He sighed and emitted a soft moan at the end. Just when he thought he could control things. Set him, Farrul and Steve on a path together. Just like that, he was now forced to work for people he hardly knew outside in the oppressive fog of the Atlantic.  

Words spoken to him rang in his head. 

From Elder Hawk. 

“If you want to soar, you have to open yourself first.”

From the singing sorceress. 

“You cannot control your destiny.”

“You cannot control your fate!”

From Mom in dreamworld. 

“You have to grow up to be a man and if you haven’t already started, you need to start NOW!” 

What was going to happen now? He knew he needed strength to get through his ordeals, but how was he going to go about facing his ordeals? He was being told to plan for a journey to Hedonim, but he was also being told to focus on the drudgery of hard labor that awaited him, Farrul and the rest of the boys here. 

Upon that thought, he looked around and saw that all who were left in the hut were adolescent boys. It was him and Farrul on one side of the room, a pack of interspersed boys staring suspiciously from the opposite side and silence to fill in the gap. 

Who would break the silence?

“You wanna know why we call him Liver?” asked the boy right next to Liver, leering at Nickel across the room. The boy called Liver sulked again. 

Nickel didn’t respond. 

“Why?” said Farrul, getting up with a hunched back and leaning against the side wall closest to Nickel. Farrul didn’t look at anyone; instead he stared directly at his lap. 

“It’s because he’s useless!” said the boy who’d broken the silence. He spoke with haughty amusement which bubbled up in his high voice. He grinned even wider and laughed. His teeth were yellow and crooked. There were at least two dark gaps in the two rows where teeth were missing. “Like a liver!” The skinny boy to the right of the gap-toothed kid chortled alongside him. The seated squat boy to the right of him snickered, the strands of his shaggy mop of dark hair bobbing up and down. 

“We started calling him that a month ago,” said the skinny boy. 

Liver balled his fists and inched away to the right from the skinny boy and the gap-toothed kid.

“What?” sneered gap-teeth at Liver. “That’s what you are, aren’ you?”

Liver tightened his mouth and frowned. He gave an exasperated sigh. 

“Sh-sh– shut up,” he finally said. 

“Sh-sh-sh-shu-shu-shut up!” crooned gap-teeth, in a high pitched voice. The three boys laughed loudly. 

“He’s a useless Liver,” said the skinny boy, looking in Farrul and Nickel’s direction. “We started calling him that because he got sick and he wouldn’t come out to work with us for so long. When he did, he was useless because he was always sitting out, coughing. And all it took for the name to stick was for Li to pick it up and call him that. “Li’s not a cocksucker like some other people here. We know some people are sucking you dry because you’re ‘Hedonim explorers’” Hhe piped the phrase in a higher pitched voice for mock courtesy. Then his face grew hard. “But we don’t care. We don’t think you’re that hot.”

“I was the one who came up with it by the way,” said gap-teeth, grinning widely. “The name, Liver. So watch out. If you mess with me I might give you a name like that.”

“They’re right about not powering through, but they’re the only ones who call him Liver,’ said a tall boy leaning far away against the wall adjacent to the laughing boys. “It’s not even that funny. We just called him useless.” He nodded at the opposite wall, away from any particular person and said, “much better name. And, he’s not useless anymore. He’s done better.”

“Ah, shut up!” said the skinny boy in a wheezing voice. “Why you sucking off Liver of all people?”

Gap-teeth faced Nickel and Farrul’s direction. 

“Just for you Past Worlders’ information, Gablin’s our nice guy, which just means he’s a cocksucker. No one else here in this hut’s gonna suck your cock, being nice to you– definitely not me. But if you ever need someone to suck you dry, there’s Gablin over there,” he said, pointing at him with the thumb on his left hand. 

Gablin stared straight ahead with dull eyes, showing a meek annoyance. All he did was roll his eyes. 

The three boys laughed to themselves. 

Pricks. 

That’s what they were. Nickel had known these types. He’d encountered cronies like these time and time again in his past life as a school boy. They were like flies. 

Clustering together and swarming around you noisily. Buzz. 

Buzz………..Buzz-Buzz-Buzz. 

Meaningless, annoying noise. 

Nickel felt his face flush with heat. He balled his fists, clenching tightly. His dirty fingernails having not been cut for days since encountering the Desolate Plains dug into his palms, sharply piercing his grime-caked skin.

It wasn’t fair. He didn’t ask to get stuck here with these people. Any of them. Just when he thought he was starting to get along with Farrul, he was stuck with three people he was sure he would come to hate. 

“What’s his real name?” blurted Nickel.  

The three boys quieted in their laughter. 

Nickel’s face grew hotter, but his chest cooled down. He wondered if he should have spoken, but the words already left his mouth. He had launched an atomic rocket. He didn’t know where the propulsion would take him on the trajectory. For Nickel, there was no stopping or emergency landing. 

“What?” the gap-toothed kid asked in derision. 

“You call him Liver, but what’s his real name?” Nickel asked, keeping his lips constricted in a tight circle before folding them into his mouth. Many of the boys in the room, including Farrul, turned to look at Nickel questioningly. Their faces were expectant and waiting, presumably to see what Nickel was trying to do– what he was trying to get at. 

Farrul stared at Nickel with a half-open mouth and half closed eyes. His uncomfortable expression made him look like he was queasy. Without speaking, he seemed to be asking, “what are you doing?” 

Nickel moved his tongue to respond, but he said nothing. 

He felt oddly shaky. 

The gap-toothed kid widened his eyes and laughed, looking at Nickel. 

“Do you- feel……………bad for Liver?”

Nickel stared back at him with a cold frowning face. 

“What’s your name?” asked the squat boy. “Rickel?”

Nickel still didn’t respond. 

“Hey, Gablin,” said the gap-toothed boy. He looked towards Gablin who didn’t look back, only staring forward. “You got company. Guess you won’t be the only cock sucker here after all.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” said Nickel, speaking louder than before. The people in the room became more alert, opening their eyes wider. Most of them raised their heads, looking at Nickel. Some turned to look at the three boys to see how they would respond. 

“With your mouth going off so much,” continued Nickel, “calling people names, deciding how good everyone is to you. What gives you the judgment for that?”

The three cronies scoffed. 

“Why don’t you just come over here and give Liver a reach around?” said the skinny boy, raising his right arm and pointing a thumb at Nickel. 

“I’m sure he would like that very much,” he added. 

Nickel’s chest flared with tightening anger. His nails dug deeper into his palm. 

“You’re ignoring what I said,” said Nickel. “You guys should just shut the glibb up.”

“Because you’re no better than anyone else here.”

“Or cooler,” Nickel added. 

“And you’re no better than anyone else here!” exclaimed the gap-toothed kid. 

“You should go back to the Past World so we don’t have to listen to you lecture us!”

“Yeah!” said the skinny boy. “Why should we listen to you? What would you know about what we should do with all your fancy tech?”

“You’re not Great Father Hawk!” said the squat boy, quieter than his two cronies, but still loud enough that anger bubbled in his voice. 

Nickel gritted his teeth together and then bared them in a grimacing scowl. 

Farrul looked at him and gently shook his head. He put his left hand to his neck and holding his fingers straight together, made a cutting motion. 

Nickel ignored him and kept on talking. 

“You’ve no idea what I’ve been through,” he said. “And after all of it, I’m not about to let some morons like you give me crap.”

“Why you lecturing us?” growled the skinny boy. The three boys sneered at Nickel. 

“You’re not paying attention to what I’m saying,” said Nickel. “I’m just saying you should mind your own business because I’m not going to stand for you messing with me.”

“ -Or anyone else here,” added Nickel. 

The gap-toothed kid laughed. 

“You messed with me. So I’m going to mess with you.”

Nickel was on the verge of retorting when the door behind him burst open. 

Everyone faced a woman standing in the entranceway, looking glum. 

She didn’t say anything for a while and scanned the room with her eyes as if she were trying to parse out what had been the commotion inside of the hut. 

“Your turn for a cutter fry,” she finally said and closed the door. Her footsteps were heard outside. 

The boys all stood up and trudged out of the hut. Nickel stood close to Farrul. 

The gang of three boys left the hut together, muttering amongst themselves and eyeing Nickel every now and then. 

Nickel still felt flustered. He was angry and insecure amongst this group he now had to work with. 

Li moved towards Nickel and without looking at him, he spoke. 

“This is my fight,” he said. “Leave it to me. It’s not about you.” Once he’d spoken, he continued brushing past Nickel and moved out the door. He started to close it, then another boy caught it and followed by three other boys, the hut was emptied except for Nickel and Farrul. 

Nickel was taken aback by what Liver said. Confusion mixed into the anger he felt, creating a bubbling concoction of emotion. 

Farrul started to move to the door. 

“Farrul?” said Nickel. 

Farrul paused in front of the door and without turning around, growled one word. 

“What?” 

Nickel didn’t speak immediately, unnerved by Farrul’s growl. 

“Did I go too far?”

“Yup.”

Nickel sighed. 

“But they’re assholes!”

Farrul shook his head, but still didn’t turn around. 

“Look, I don’t like them either, but we’re new here and now you’ve made us stand out even more. I’ve already told you– and you’re stupid if you can’t see this– the people here are not all friendly with us outsiders. It’s about whether you want to survive or not. I guess you don’t. Or you care about being a white knight more than surviving.”

“White knight?” Nickel scoffed. “They-are-assholes!” They’re saying stuff about us too! What- I’m just supposed to stand for what they say to us?”

“Look, they’re assholes alright, but you were pushing it too much. Now you made us stand out even more. Thanks for screwing us. But you’re the one who opened your mouth, so you’re more screwed than I am.”

With that, Farrul exited the hut, leaving Nickel feeling conflicted, stressed and downright blue.

“Hedonim explorers,” he remembered the skinny boy saying. As if he already didn’t have a marker on him for being a newcomer to the tribe, he had another one for a special role. 

Was it special? Nickel had no clue. No matter who answered what for that question, Nickel felt like he was bound to be despised for the role. 

How was he going to get through all of this?

The same woman opened the door and shouted at Nickel. 

“Come on! Let’s go! We wait for no one! There’s work to do!”

Feeling terrible and as a sinking sensation occurred in his chest, Nickel lowered his head and shoulders, hurrying out the door.

By G.R. Nanda

“The new ones!” shouted a furious man with a hard face and long scraggly black hair. Nickel recognized him as Li, the man who had led the pack that had carried him to Elder Hawk. 

“Didn’t come in with the rest of us did you?” growled Li. He edged along the side of Elder Hawk’s hut from the right. “We don’t have the time to wait for you! You better learn that quickly!” He was crouched and marching slowly in a careful, tense and tentative manner. 

Nickel and Farrul had ventured beyond Elder Hawk’s hut and into a deserted square, but they were impelled by the thick wind storm and fog to rush back to the hut, to the side adjacent to the long side entrance they had stood by before. 

“We had to talk,” said Nickel. Knowing that was an insufficient explanation, he added, “- about some important- stuff.” He knew it was still insufficient. Li’s reply let him know that he thought so too. 

“What?” said Li, wearing an incredulous expression; his eyes were scrunched and his mouth was wide. He frowned and hardened his mouth again. “This isn’t the Past World anymore. No flying metal box to save your skins in a windstorm.” Li moved in closer until his face was mere inches from Nickel’s. For a brief moment, Li’s nostrils emitted heat onto Nickel’s skin, even in the midst of a windstorm. 

“You-are-here, with no other than the Atlantic Tribe. Everyone here lies and breathes the way of the Hawk. There is no one else here other than you who does not live the way of the Hawk. We are the Hawk! If you want to live with us, you must live the way of the Hawk or else die like the rest of our failed children!” 

Farrul had been standing against the wall behind Nickel, his body facing the wall while he stared just past his shoulder at Nickel. Nickel turned around, squinting so the wind wouldn’t sear his eyeballs. Farrul was still the same. 

Turning back around, Nickel saw Li in the same position. 

“So- whaddeeeya wann’ us to do?” Nickel quickly said. It was proving difficult to communicate with the members of the Atlantic Tribe. Nickel felt himself to be at a helpless loss when it came to effectively interacting with its members. He was always at odds in some way. 

“It’s what you should have done!” shouted Li, jabbing a finger in the air. “I should not be here!” 

“Look,” started Nickel. He already felt like whatever he was going to say would be dismissed and possibly berated by Li. “Farrul came here with three different escorts. Elder Hawk told me they were supposed to stay with him, keep lookout. Elder hawk went inside her hut because she got so upset. But she wasn’t supposed to.” 

“What-are-you-saying?” said Li. 

“I’m saying…………..,” said Nickel. He dreaded Li’s reaction, so he tentatively said, “it’s………………………………..not really………………………..our- fault?”

Li fumed and his scowl deepened. He really was not as submissive and passive as he was in front of Elder Hawk. Nickel could tell it was a front for Elder Hawk’s sake and that Li was probably the opposite of passive most of the time. 

“The thing you really should understand about the Atlantic Tribe,” said Li in a low voice that frothed with fury, “is that its people wait for no one!” 

“Elder Hawk will leave you! Expect that! Expect that when you don’t listen!”

“Time is very precious here. The worldly gas and its windstorms make it so. Noone can spare time wasting it on you!” 

With that, Li grabbed  both of them violently, first Nickel, squeezing his arms around Nickel’s torso, then lunging for Farrul’s. 

“Don’t fight it!” said Li. Nickel could now not only see, but feel how large and bulky Li was. He was certainly not inclined to fight Li. 

He somehow (startlingly) dragged Nickel and Farrul by both sides of his torso through the raging winds. All the while, he simultaneously maintained a rigid posture and rigid manner of marching. 

Nickel’s body was whipped by the wind and his eyes stayed closed until he heard Li growl and kick open a door. When he opened his eyes, Nickel was thrown through the doorway, soaring across the room and quickly slamming on the floor. 

He moaned, winced and closed his eyes as the hard grimy floor sent waves of pain crashing through his body. He lay cowering while his limbs were splayed outside of his tucked head. 

Farrul and Li were both growling over each other and pounding thumps were audible from behind. It seemed like Farrul and Li were wrestling each other. 

Finally, Farrul yelped and he was heard smacking the rock floor beside Nickel at his right, whimpering in pain. 

“Li!” shouted a woman. “Why so rough on the visitors?’

“Visitors?” growled Li. Nickel opened his eyes a crack and looked up slightly. 

Li’s feet moved around Nickel and towards petite feet in the distance that backed away at Li’s advance. “You think Past Worlders decided to stop by for a visit? You think they want to catch up with us? See how we’ve been doing?”

Li’s feet stopped a few feet ahead of Nickel. 

“They’re from the Past World! You want them to infect us with their ways?” 

“Who do you think they are?” wailed the same woman. Her feet reappeared in between Li’s large legs, moving closer amidst a swaying red dress. “Look at them! They’re just manlings! Kids!”

“You think that’ll make me soften up to them?” said Li. He stepped closer to the woman, who didn’t back away at his advance. Nickel looked up, lifting his neck. He saw women and adolescent girls and boys in dark clothes lined with feathers, wearing grim faces and surrounding Li who was stooped over the woman. “We don’t hold our manlings to pampering. So why for manlings from the Past World?” 

The woman inched closer; her small frame was concealed by Li, but her shins and feet were visible. 

“They don’t know our ways,” she said. “They’ve just arrived.”

“No, no, no, no,” said Li, shaking his shaggy head and his hands. “You don’t see. They are different from our own children. Okay? They haven’t known our rigor since birth like- our children. They came from a large vehicle! Large metal boxes’re probably all they’ve ever known! They won’t fit into the tribe if we aren’t hard on them.”

A disgusted looking woman with long dreadlocks stepped up to Li from the right. 

“Li!” she shouted. “Did you forget that you’re descended from Past Worlders, just like these two boys?” She scoffed at Li and waved her left arm across the room before returning it to her hips alongside her right arm. “We all come from Past Worlders!” 

People moved in around Li and shouted furious affirmations. 

“Layla’s right!”

“Just quit it, Li!”

Others sulked behind, looking concerned at the brewing tension. 

“So, I don’t know what it is that you’re trying to get out of these boys!” said Layla, the woman with dreadlocks. 

Some people moved besides Li and shouted back at his resisters. 

“Nah! He’s right!” 

“Yeah, shut up!”

“This tribe hasn’t lived for so long because we were nice!” 

We weeded out the weak and if the Past Worlders are weak, then we weed them out too!”

Nickel sat up and crawled away on his back as the whole room broke into a fervor of discord and shouting. Farrul was still lying down, crumpled. 

A group of young and older females had herded together besides Layla and the first woman who had argued with Li. 

Some young males and teenage boys touting red feathers around their torso, across their backs and chests, jeered at them while they stood around Li. 

Other women and teenage boys and girls surrounded the two groups and tried wedging themselves in between them. Some appeared to be arguing just as loudly while others seemed to be frantically attempting to pacify the crowd. 

All of their voices became warbled and difficult to completely decipher in the volume and fervor. Soon, Farrul peeked up from the floor, still lying down. Nickel and Farrul could only watch as the Atlantic tribespeople argued over their existence. 

There was a boom from behind and the door slammed Nickel’s left leg, sending him sprawling in pain into the right corner of the room. Nickel’s body smashed a dusty stone pot. A large brown and red blur swept through the entrance and out of the blur, long red feathered legs kicked out, hitting Farrul at the side of his head. Nickel immediately inched away from the brown shards that now lined the corner and the right wall. 

The feathered legs planted themselves on the ground and the person’s large wings extended horizontally. The knees were bent. As soon as the man had gained a still and balanced footing, the knees extended fully. 

Everyone was quiet and still. Nickel’s heart was pounding rapidly and his body still throbbed. Everyone gazed at the entranceway with a solemn reverence. 

He-Hawk had arrived. 

“Even for the noisiest hut in the tribe, this hut got pretty damn noisy tonight,” said He-Hawk in a deep low and cool voice. When no one replied, he asked, “what seems to be the problem that’s got everyone so riled up?” He-Hawk slowly lowered his arms and the span of his feathered wings contracted until they only fully extended downwards from his shoulders. 

He looked at Farrul and Nickel, turning his neck and glancing at them with small curious eyes. The edge of his raised right eyebrow peeked out from his rust red mask, while his left eyebrow frowned deeply into his left eye. His mouth was small and tightly puckered. His chin and jaw were large, but aquiline– hooked. 

His right eyebrow returned to his eye and he turned around to face Nickel and Farrul. Torchlight shone on top of his mask that covered his scalp and cranium. The torchlight also brightened the feathers around He-Hawk’s shoulders. Their bright red danced around his shoulders like trickling, dancing blood. 

“Ah,” he said, nodding. He turned back to the crown. “Are these two the source of our scuffle?”

“We don’t know what to do with them,” said a thin dark brown girl who came out from the back of the room. “And they’re all arguing about how to treat them” 

“Treat them the way Li wants to treat them,” she added, nodding towards Li, who was behind her  looking flustered. 

“Ky,” said Li, holding out his palms and walking towards He-Hawk. “I’m only trying to be safe. They’re from the Past World and if we don’t force them into our culture- if we’re not harsh with them, they could disturb our culture.” 

“Remember, our tribe’s done a lot to keep the Past World out of life.”

“Li, how did you treat these Past Worlders?” asked He-Hawk, or Ky. 

“Well,” said Li, “they were outside bumbling when it was storming and everyone else was inside, so I was sent to bring them to a teen clinic hut. When I saw them bumbling around, I dragged them here and threw them across-.” Li’s voice faltered and his face dimmed as if he was stalling the realized harshness of the subsequent detail in his narration. “ -The floor.” 

“But I don’t care,” said Li, frowning at He-Hawk. “And that’s only a little taste of what I’m willing to put him through!” He edged closer to He-Hawk, who stood still, breathing heavily in the aftermath of his flight to this hut. “If we want to keep these two here-.” He pointed in Farrul and Nickel’s direction. “ -We have to beat the Past World out of them. We should give them hell whenever they can’t act in accordance with the Atlantic Tribe!”

“Li, this is why you were never made He-Hawk!” shouted Layla. “Because you don’t know how to care for people.”

Li didn’t respond or look at Layla. He didn’t even move. All he did was stare at He-Hawk with a determined face. 

“Don’t you see?” asked Li in a lower voice than before. “This is how it starts. It’s not visions of Hedonim that’ll undo us. That won’t take us back to the Past World. It’s this that will. Them,” he said, pointing in Farrul’s and Nickel’s direction again. 

“Listen to me,” started He-Hawk, raising a palm, but Li cut him off. 

“People from the Past World! That will break the tribe!”

People behind began shouting again, arguing with Li as well as affirming what he was saying. 

“This had happened before!” shouted He-Hawk. “Quiet down! Have you all forgotten? Stop getting so emotional about this! Remember and think! If you all stop shouting and cool your angry minds, you can remember- a precedent!”

“And what would that be?” asked a stout teenage boy with a mop of brown hair and olive skin from the left side of the room. 

“Charles Norwood,” He-Hawk said slowly. There was a period of hushed silence lasting mere seconds followed by the utterance of gasps and unbelieving mutters. 

“What?” said the thin girl. 

Li’s face was dumbfounded. 

“That old grandpa?”

“The reason!-” started He-Hawk in a loud voice attempting to silence the distracted crowd and summon their attention, “ -you don’t remember Charles Norwwod coming from the Past World is because early on, when he happened upon our land as a young man, his spirit left the Past World. It left because the Atlantic Tribe taught him the way of the Hawk and he accepted Great Father Hawk.” 

“He passed through the tests laid out for transitioning his soul out of the Past World.” 

“And Li, unfortunately, it is not up to you to decide those tests.”

Li’s face became harder. His eyelids moved closer to each other and the edges of his mouth moved further down. But nonetheless, he stayed cool in front of Li. No anger bubbled out like before. 

“The appropriate tests are there. Like I said, there is a precedent. No need to create new tests.”

“Our Past Worlders here,” said He-Hawk, gesturing with his right hand at Farrul and Nickel, “are to undergo two different initiation rites, one is a birthing ceremony and the other is an acht-chi test of convergence. Nickel -.” He turned and pointed directly at Nickel, sending a jolt through him before turning back around, “ -has already completed a test of convergence. This one-.” He pointed at farrul. “ -has not. The both of them have to complete their birthing ceremonies.”

“As to the older accomplice-.” Nickel’s eyes widened and his heart lurched. “ -he is too ill-bodied to be tested or inaugurated right now.” Nickel’s heart sank. He figured that this was an indication that things were not boding well for Steve’s health. 

“I have just spoken to Elder Hawk and carry with me information about our Past Worlders’ fates and place in the tribe– information that might surprise you.”

Allowing a moment of silence to settle amongst curious and eager faces, He-Hawk continued, 

“While the Atlantic Nest has received three new births, our new members must leave the Nest not long after their eggs have cracked.” 

Nickel knew what was coming. He-Hawk had heard of his quest to Hedonim from Elder Hawk. He just knew it. The faces in front of him were stony, silent and frowning– confused by the news being delivered to them. Li looked like he was queasy. 

“The Quest for Hedonim persists. The acht-chi Enchantress, or-.” He-Hawk turned his head slightly to the right in Nickel and Farrul’s direction. “ -as the Past Worlders might think of her, the Enchantress of Dreams, has finally spoken loud enough. The people in the tribe- some of them are here, before me, who have listened to the whispers of Hedonim– searched for it, have finally gotten what they’ve wanted:

A means of clear passage to Hedonim.” 

There was a collective gasp drawn out of the crowd. Li’s eyes widened and his jaw fell slack, as did the many eyes and jaws around and behind him. He-Hawk didn’t speak for a while, allowing the room to digest the news and the shock that came with it. People started whispering amongst themselves. 

The whispers turned into mutters and it was only when they turned into shocked and outraged shouts that He-Hawk took the reins of dialogue in the hut again:

“Hush!” He-Hawk raised his arms, drawing the feathers of his wings up and outwards from his back, making him appear as if he was a flying bird. “Do not excite yourselves! And do not fear!”

“Do not fear! Trust in Great Father Hawk and his great cosmic plan!” 

A tall curly-haired boy behind Li, towards the left wall drew ragged breaths. 

“This is it,” he whispered. “What we’ve been waiting for.” 

“No!” shouted a square-faced woman behind him. “Past Worlders might not bring us apart, but-.” She nudged the boy away and walked right up to He-Hawk, her brown dress swishing around her stout brown legs. She stood at the right of Li, who looked at her with a numb expression. “ -this can!” 

“If all of our young people go off to Hedonim, what will happen to the tribe?” she cried. “It’ll fall apart.” 

“We can’t rush to conclusions,” said He-hawk. 

“But can’t you see?” said the woman, shaking her head. “Hedonim is part of the Past World! Our parents and grandparents have done everything they could to draw us out and away from the Past World! Do we want to undo what they worked for?” 

“I don’t want to undo what they did!” shouted some other woman. 

Segments of the crowd broke into frantic shouting. 

“SILENCE!” boomed He-Hawk. The whole room quieted. He-Hawk coughed and covered his mouth with his palm. He sputtered and cleared phlegm. 

Outside, the winds had quieted and the walls of the hut stilled. Nickel only realized that the hut had been shuddering once it had stopped. 

“A jour-,” He-Hawk said hoarsely. He cleared his throat again. “A journey to Hedonim is now available to those of our youth who are about to embark on mission quests. If our friends from the Past World choose to take up the journey, they will accompany our youth on their mission quests. As is always the case, a youth can choose to stay with the tribe or leave during his or her mission quest.” 

“By creating the option to travel to Hedonim, I think the tribe will feel more secure. Our tribe has become much bigger than when it had first summoned the spirit of Great Father Hawk generations ago. We are not the small group of former Past Worlders anymore.” 

“If people can go to Hedonim, we’ll lose a lot of people!” shouted a boy from the very back of the room. 

“Maybe for the better!” said He-Hawk, nodding. 

Li put his head in his hands and walked away to the left of the hut. 

“The bigger the tribe, the harder it is to sustain ourselves. I don’t think I need to remind you of any food shortages to drive the point home.” 

There were grumbles to acknowledge this. 

There were also excited whispers and glowing faces full of wide eyes and grins. 

“Those of you who’ve wanted to go to Hedonim– you know I can’t restrain you forever– especially when you grow in numbers.” 

“So………………with the permission of Elder Hawk, I am announcing to you and soon after to the rest of the tribe…………..the pilgrimage to Hedonim in the name of Great Father Hawk!” 

This was followed by more gasps, whispers and exclamations of triumph. 

“Two………………mission quests will occur…………with the choice to go to Hedonim. If the two mission questers do go to Hedonim, their journey will allow more to follow in the future under the eyes of Great Father Hawk.” 

The noises of excitement and unease grew louder. 

“Now, as you can tell, the day has begun and night is over,” said He-Hawk. “The birthing ceremonies will be prepared today and my watch shift is over. You shall answer to She-Hawk for the next couple of hours.” 

He-Hawk turned around and walked to the door. 

“You know, Ky,” said Li, lifting his hands from his face and stepping past the rest of the tribespeople to face Li at the middle of the room. He-hawk cocked his right eyebrow and swivelled his neck and torso towards Li. 

“I don’t know what happened to you,” said Li. I liked you better before you were He-hawk.” Li frowned. “You, from three years ago, would have been on my side today.”

“What happened to you?”

He-Hawk looked down at the floor and then turned back to the door, kicking it open and exiting the hut.

By G.R. Nanda

“That old lady is a priss,” said Farrul. Nickel sighed and shook his head. 

“Come on, man,” said Nickel. 

“What?” Farrul looked around, scanning the huts and the fog as they rose and disappeared. “You really think we can stay here? I’ve seen some of the people here. Looked like they’d want to gut me or something.”

“I stand out here,” he said, pointing at the ground. “You do too. And whenever I stand out, it’s never been good for me.” He pressed his palms against the back of his head and began walking around and puffing up his cheeks, exhaling. 

“You were rude to her,” said Nickel. Farrul turned, looked at Nickel and scoffed. 

“Rude?” said Farrul. “I don’t know if you understand.” 

“I don’t know if you understand!” said Nickel. 

“I was being direct with her!” snarled Farrul. “I don’t care what she thinks of herself or her tribe. All I know is that I can’t stay and listen to her. I want to go to Hedonim! I can’t have nothing to do with her hawk religion. Like I said, I think it’s bullshit.”

“Before I got here, one of the people I was with and some others too were trying to talk me into admitting my passage from the Past World. They wanted to see if I was sent here from Great Father Hawk. Exactly what they said too.”

Nickel felt stuck. Was this what he was running away from all these months? All that time spent in his hovercraft alone? Confrontation? Nickel looked away from Farrul and at the door of Elder Hawk’s hut– the door he wanted to open for more answers. 

Confrontation. Confronting reality and confronting people. People were, after all, a part of reality. It all felt like too much. It also felt like it was too late to run away from confrontation. 

Nickel sighed. Did he want to run away now?

The wind began to pick up and howl the way it did before a windstorm. 

“No,” Nickel found himself thinking. No, he did not. 

“Yeah, we’re going to Hedonim,” said Nickel. He looked at Farrul. “But first, we’re going to get help from the Atlantic Tribe. And we’ll be leaving here with more than you, me and Steve.”

“Wha- wait, what?” said Farrul.

“Yeah,” said Nickel. “It’s time I tell you what Elder Hawk wanted me to say.”

“What did she want to say?” asked Farrul. They both winced as strong gust pushed fog against their faces from the left. 

“Well, apparently, there’s a small movement in the Desolate Plains to go to Hedonim. Not just in the Atlantic Tribe. There have been people throughout the Plains who’ve wanted to go to Hedonim because they knew it was the only remaining part of civilization here that was connected to you know– civilization. It’s the best way to leave and get back to civilization.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Farrul. “I already know this.”

“No, wait!” said Nickel. “There’s more. That was a big reason. But not the only one. Not everyone who’s ended up here knew about Hedonim. They were attracted to the place and those people have been trying to get to its location because that’s where the singing sorceress told them to go. It’s too hard for lone stragglers to get there. But people in the Atlantic Tribe have known for a long time that they fare a better chance than most because of their numbers and their skills which have been adapted over generations.”

“Elder Hawk hasn’t ever wanted her people to go off to Hedonim. She thinks that it’s a dangerous place from the Past World and that by going there, her people will be corrupted by the Past World. She thinks that an ordeal in her tribe to get to Hedonim could tear apart her tribe.”

“But a lot of people in this tribe since before Elder Hawk was alive, have known about Hedonim and wanted to go there. Some people who came here like us have known about that place before they ended up here. It’s information that’s been passed down and many people have had visions like we did about Hedonim and the singing sorceress. A lot of people have in the Atlantic Tribe.”

“You see, the Atlantic Tribe really only knows this life they have right now. It all centers around the hunt and worship of the hawk. But some people in this tribe want to know more.” 

“Teenagers go on mission quests here to prove their resourcefulness and if they want to learn about the world outside and leave for it if they want. Some have wanted to go to Hedonim. And some teenagers still want to.”

“Elder Hawk believes that the singing sorceress has been around since before the Desolate Plains– as she said were desolate. I think what she means is that the singing sorceress was here before the power plant accident destroyed this land and made it so toxic.”

Farrul quietly gasped and his eyes turned wide. 

A smile played at the corners of Nickel’s mouth, but he didn’t smile. He didn’t want to show that he was happy for finally getting through to Farrul. He hoped that Farrul would now start being less cynical and realize the gravity of Elder Hawk’s role in their journey. 

Farrul laughed nervously. 

“No,” he muttered. 

“Yeah,” said Nickel. 

“According to Elder Hawk, the singing sorceress was placed in Hedonim as a safety measure by an architect of the Past World who wanted to make sure that-.” Nickel paused and sighed. “I honestly can’t figure out exactly what she told me. It was so complicated. Basically, the singing sorceress is here so that the people stuck here after the power plant accident have somewhere to go to– because the architect knew these people would be here before the accident even happened. Or the singing sorceress is supposed to fulfill that architect’s long awaited purpose for Hedonim and the power plant. Or both of those things.”

Farrul looked dumbstruck. For once, it seemed to Nickel that there was an emotion in Farrul that was something other than anger and resentment. 

Nickel scoffed at his own explanation. 

“Look, that was a lot,” he said. “I really wish Elder hawk was here to explain it all like she originally wanted to. But I guess she was too offended by you. I don’t know. I was rambling a lot-.”

“-No,” said Farrul. He was looking down at his feet and started to furrow his eyebrows and harden his face in a grim and seemingly resolute expression. “That was a good explanation, I’ll admit. But it is a lot.” 

The howling wind turned into a roar. 

“It’s a lot. My whole life felt large and confusing. But I’ve never been a part of something this huge. And I don’t know if I want to………….”

“………….I mean…..I might,” he admitted, nodding and looking Nickel in the eye. 

The orange fog that had grown brighter as the morning progressed condensed around the two of them. 

“At this point,” started Farrul. He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know how much of a choice I have, even if I end up being a pawn in the- architect’s plans.”

The fog billowed with the wind, compressing against their bodies. Nickel cringed and wrapped his arms around himself. He dug his chin into his chest and pressed his legs together, trying so hard to hide from the storm that he forgot about doing the acht-chi. 

Remembering, he still didn’t initiate it, feeling his conversation was more important. 

Keeping his body tightly close and his head down, Nickel moved to Farrul and slapped a hand on his shoulder. He gritted his teeth and stared at Farrul with scrunched eyes. His eyelashes were so close to each other, making it even harder to see Farrul in the dense fog. 

“Hey!” he shouted. The gusts were threatening to push him away from Farrul. He moved closer to Farrul in three huge stomps and removed his arm from his shoulder, only to wrap it around his back. He was practically hugging Farrul.  Nickel’s head was tucked right next to Farrul’s head. His chin jutted out onto his back. 

He swivelled his neck and screamed into Farrul’s ear:

“HEY!”

“WE-will-get-to-the-bottom of the architect’s plans. TOGETHER! We will get to Hedonim together! And if we work together, I promise we won’t be anyone’s pawns.” 

They stood there in their embrace, holding out against the whipping winds. Farrul reached for Nickel’s back, wrapping his arms around him, returning the embrace. 

They stood there for quite a bit, savoring their security together. 

“Holy shit!” gasped Nickel. He squeezed his eyes shut because they were watering against the blasting wind. He dug his face closer to Farrul’ neck. 

“We can’t be out here anymore!” shouted Farrul. 

“Yeah,” said Nickel, nodding on Farrul’s back. “Let’s go inside now!”

By G.R. Nanda

“This man is ill,” declared a smooth male voice. It was crisp with age, but not old enough to be grating. 

Farrul opened his eyes and blinked. He had been in the numb and dark trance that always led up to deep slumber and had been jolted awake by this man’s voice. He started to move his body, but his wrists seemed to be glued. Looking down, he was reminded that he bound at the wrists and ankles by rope. The hot anger that had kept him awake for so long returned, roiling in his chest. This wasn’t as bad as the numerous foster homes he’d been in and the labor camp he was in before the fateful hovercraft crash, but he still felt a burning resentment towards the man who’d bound him. 

Just when he thought that he would be free when Steve, Nickel and he fled on the hovercraft. He now guessed that he had been too hopeful. What was he thinking? How could he hope for a smooth ride in the shit-hole that was the Desolate Plains of the Atlantic? However, he definitely wasn’t expecting to meet a whole group of people hiding out in the wreckage of an old power plant. 

Farrul stopped moving, inhaled deeply and sighed. He was wedged into a loose sack of brown cloth that covered the top of his feet and head. He was right next to a series of cracked stone pillars, on the other side of which was Steve who had been lying down without resistance or much of a word since they had been captured and Farrul had been tied here for resisting and cursing at his feathered captors. 

“He’s been quieter than the boy, but he’s been too quiet,” came the same deep cool voice. The speaker was talking about Steve. “I think some-thing’s wrong with him.” Farrul could see a tall narrow man in black clothes who had protruding red feathers at the shins and hands. He glimpsed him through the uneven spaces in-between the jagged pillars, looming over Steve. “Physically, I mean.” The man squinted at Steve through small beady eyes, seeming to take no notice of Farrul. The skin around his eyes and on his forehead was stretched in the tight lines of furrowed concentration. 

Farrul tried cocking his head to get a closer look at the man examining Steve. In moving, he accidentally slipped the top of the cloth bag over his face, obscuring his vision. 

“Glibb,” Farrul softly muttered under his breath. He wriggled, loudly shuffling against the cloth bag. He shook his head and tried rubbing the top of it up and down against the cloth. He managed to move the cloth away from his eyes. 

Once he saw the tall man looking at him, he froze. His face was long,even for his already long body,and scraggly, covered with tufts of facial hair. The man slowly turned away and faced the floor where Steve was. 

“How is the man?” the tall man said. “How is he generally? Is he physically able?”

After a period of silence in which Farrul was unsure who the man was talking to, the man said, “I’m talking to you by the way.” He turned towards Farrul, eyebrows raised in expectation. “You. This man’s accomplice.” He pointed a long nubby finger at Farrul and then lowered it. 

Farrul contemplated many different things to say. He opened his mouth and made a quick slight noise, as if he was about to say something, but stopped immediately. He wanted to curse. To tell him Steve was a very physically able man- thank you very much. He wanted to order the man to unbind him. He wanted to tell him to be gentle with Steve because he’d been through a lot and he’d done nothing to harm him. He wanted to tell him to let him and Steve both go and the three of them would be better off for it. Finally, he gritted his teeth and said,

“Let me go.” 

“I’d be glad to,” said the tall man, “once you show some more cooperation. You have entered the land of Great Father Hawk after all.” 

Farrul’s cheeks flared with rushing blood. 

“Did Great-Father-Hawk tell you guys to break into our ship?” Farrul said in a tight voice that was contained, but frothing with anger. 

“A slight damage,” said the man, frowning, “but a necessary one.” He raised his hands, facing his palms outward. “Our land is sacred. The Atlantic tribe takes instructions seriously. We had to expect the worst from you.”

“You see? The thing is we don’t usually get visitors like your from the Past World.”

Farrul didn’t say anything. His mind was processing this man’s language, slowly taking in his convictions and his culture. He slowly shook his head and stopped frowning. He was staring without focus, dumbstruck by the changes and events that had transpired so quickly since Nickel had arrived with his hovercraft. Thinking of the hovercraft refilled him with spite and anger. He frowned again. 

“You put a pretty big dent in our hovercraft, didn’t you?” snarled Farrul. “You guys glibbing rammed into it! Now there’s a big hole in it! How the hell are you gonna fix that?”

“The Atlantic Tribe is very strategic,” said the man. “We only cause necessary pains. We are also very resourceful-.”

“- Really?” interrupted Farrul,” you have the resources to fix a big hovercraft? You sure about that? You guys? Is this the first time you’ve seen a hovercraft? You guys don’t seem very high tech to me.”

The man stared at Farrul with furrowed eyebrows for a while and then inhaled deeply with frustration. He turned away as he sighed and walked out the door. 

Shortly after, three people including the same tall man burst into the room, quickly entering and quickly slamming the door behind. One other was a tall adolescent boy, shorter than the man and sporting black clothes and a curly beard that was disconnected to a furry mustache. Another was an adolescent girl with a small face and pulled-back ponytail. She was also wearing black clothes and was the shortest of the two.

They all stared at Farrul with grim faces. Their eyes were all troubled and unnerved as if they expected Farrul to cause harm in an unexpected way. The tall man’s eyebrows were furrowed the deepest. His tightened mouth was lost in his bristly mustache. 

“If you choose to cooperate and act within our limits, we can lead to your friend,” and pausing he said, “Nickel.” 

“If not- If you cause anymore trouble, you will be back in this sack, more forcibly than the first two times.” 

Farrul tried scowling at the three of them. It didn’t work because the three of them continued to stand there, waiting unflinchingly. Deep down, Farrul welled with a desire to see Nickel again. Steve was too weak to talk much and strangely enough, it was now Nickel who was his link to the familiar, a person he’d once detested for the abundance of technology that he came with. Farrul felt held back from jumping to his feet and begging to take him to Nickel. He was held back by a fear of coercion. He didn’t want to be forced into actions by people like he had so many times in his life. 

Finally, the desire to see his ally triumphed. It was still strange how quickly he had come to regard Nickel as an ally. He closed his eyes and sighed. 

“Alright,” he muttered. He opened his eyes. “Let me see him. I won’t resist or attack.”

The tall man walked over and pulled out a dagger from his pocket. Seeing the short tainted blade coming towards him, Farrul flinched. Instead of stabbing him, the tall man used the dagger to slit holes in the knots of rope tied around Farrul and disentangled Farrul from the ropes. The tall man walked away and Farrul wriggled his ankles and his wrists. He was slow to get up. His whole body felt like lead. In moving up, his vision blurred and dizziness swept over him. He managed to stand upright, teetering on the heels of his feet. He still felt tipsy, as if the slightest imbalance could make him collapse. 

The girl grabbed a stone jug at the corner of the room and gave it to Farrul. He took it and was surprised to find it heavy. Black water with orange flashes of reflected firelight lapped at the rim of the jug. 

He dipped his lips inside and slurped loudly at the water. Farrul was surprised to find that the water wasn’t as brackish as he thought it was going to be. What was even more surprising was that the water was less brackish than the water that he and Steve had to drink back at their encampment. As the water flowed down his throat, he felt a bit better in his own body, stronger and more relaxed.

He exhaled and handed the jug back to the girl as water dripped down his chin. She looked slightly distraught, grimacing at his thirst and the extent of his needed replenishment. She placed the jug back in the corner of the room. 

“We will escort you to where Nickel is,” said the tall man. “He is waiting with Elder Hawk. She has something to tell the both of you when you are together.” 

“You are to stay with us until another course of action is decided for you.”

Farrul scowled upon hearing, “another course of action decided for you.” So, after fleeing with Nickel on his hovercraft towards potential freedom and betterment, did he fall into the hands of an even more restrictive group of people?

“I can see you already don’t like this, but let me tell you that the Atlantic Tribe has lasted for generations because of discipline and adherence to the way of the Hawk.”

“Great Father Hawk has blessed us because we showed discipline. And besides, you’ve already promised to listen to us. Did you not?”

“Yeah,” Farrul muttered softly. “I did.” 

“So, if you are to disobey orders or try to escape our escort, you will be back here as I said you would, tied by ropes.”

“If you are to get lost in our land, you must know our names so that you can safely return to our escort.”

“My name is Aziz,” said the tall man. Pointing to the boy and the girl next to him in order, Aziz said, “This is Jerome and Cindy.” Jerome and Cindy gave curt nods when he said their names. 

“Come,” Aziz said. 

Farrul stepped forward, averting his eyes. Cindy and Jerome immediately flanked his sides, holding him by his arms. He felt a creeping discomfort at their strong clasps below his armpits. He gulped and opened his eyes wider, still averting them. Somehow, being escorted felt even more limiting than being tied in a cloth sack. The latter felt a guileless restriction where he was left to himself. Now, however, he was being held and directed in the guise of being allowed to freely move his limbs. 

Aziz moved in front of them and although Farrul tensed when Cindy and Jerome jerked him forward, he stumbled along with them, feeling an inevitability of fate. Unless he wanted to stay stuck here, imprisoned by rope, he might as well try to go along with the plans of the Atlantic Tribe. Why bother going back to the sack?

As they stepped outside of the hut, he willed himself to stay silent and calm, but also stubborn for the sake of his own independence. 

It wasn’t storming anymore and the sun was coming out. Although the sun itself was not visible, rays of bright orange cut through from the sky to the left, illuminating the fog. People walked to and fro in dark attires similar to what Aziz, Jerome and Cindy wore. Some of the people had tufts of red feathers in their clothes like Aziz. Not only were these people uniform in their attire. They were nearly all uniform in their grim expressions and somber, disciplined movements. 

Farrul was led through a rocky square surrounded by circular huts with thatched roofs. They passed cauldrons, crates and people carrying cauldrons and crates. They even passed a small see-saw next to a hut that emitted wailing sounds. Two small children wearing head scarves that wrapped around their mouths were teetering back and forth on opposite ends. They slowed down to look at Farrul, who now realized how oddly he would stick out among this tribe, not to mention because of the tainted and splotched rags he was wearing that was so unlike the attire of the Atlantic Tribe. 

From Farrul’s experiences in foster care, the labor hovercraft and the streets of Philadelphia, sticking out usually meant trouble. He remembered oddballs and nonconforming individuals facing trouble, whether it was him or someone else. In hostile environments, being different from the herd meant trouble. Even his faintest and earliest memories of the polluted and neon-lighted Philadelphia confirmed that. In fact, now that he thought of it that was where he’d learned this lesson. Every other time he stuck out reinforced that lesson. There was no other way. All Farrul had known since his mom died were hostile environments. 

Together, they entered a wide intersection marked by two opposite openings bereft of huts. They walked around an open hut with steam pouring out of the top. Clanking metal sounds came from inside. They quieted and became less abrasive to the ears when Farrul moved into the next wing. Here, he felt even more alienated and different.  

He felt drab and somewhat empty and naked as he passed so many people in this area or “wing” who were adorned with even more feathers than Aziz and the people in the wing of the tribe they had just left. He felt like a skinny rat amongst puffy feathered birds. Their red feathers lined their sleeves, legs, masks and stuck out of their hair. 

Farrul passed a group of leaner feathered tribespeople who leaned against stone posts at the entrance of a hut. Some were boys and some were girls. They laughed and chattered among themselves. Two boys were grappling each-other. All of them turned their heads to peer at Farrul being escorted. 

He thought he could feel their eyes. It was a feeling he’d experienced countless times before in his life. Most of the times had been when he’d come to a new foster home. 

“Is he from the thing that crashed in the towers?” whispered voices. “He’s from the Past World, isn’t he?”

However, this time, he felt more intensity than he had before. He wanted to walk ahead, looking unimpressed, instead of sulking as he was doing right now. But he couldn’t help himself from looking towards them, gauging their reactions to him. 

Two girls standing right next to a middle post stared at him wide-eyed with fear. The whispers died as he neared them. Kids behind stared at him from shadows with mingled anxiety and disdain. Four boys stood at the first post. In front were two lanky boys, sulking over Farrul with squinting eyes. Behind were the boys who had been grappling each other. They scowled at Farrul. The mean glint their eyes made them look like they were about to pounce on him. 

Farrul felt his head swarm with a dizzying anger. 

“Why the glibb did I end up here?” he thought. He wanted to scowl back at the boys, but Cindy and Jerome rushed past them too quickly, forcing Farrul to turn around and move on. 

#

Walking quite a distance, they made their way through bumbling children and marching adults towards a hut that was much wider. In front of that hut was a squat old lady who stood while holding the arm of Nickel, both of whom were obscured in fog. As Farrul moved closer with his escorts, he could see more clearly. Nickel wore a disconcerted expression and he was bleary eyed. 

“Where’s Steve?” was the first thing Nickel said. 

“He’s…………………………..resting,” said Farrul. “He’s not in the best shape.” 

Nickel looked disheartened. 

“Everything’s been rough on him,” said Farrul. “He hasn’t been able to stand up in hours.”

“You land dwellers are not suited for the acht-chi like myself and my fellow tribespeople are,” said Elder Hawk, the woman to Nickel’s left. Farrul’s heart skipped a beat at the assertiveness of her voice. He had not minded her too much, as she appeared so shriveled and was so small that he took her to be insignificant and even thought of her as mute. “You have not lived in the heart of this old ocean floor for as many generations as are in my blood. Many generations of accustom and discipline to the acht-chi flow through my veins. And of course, there’s the discipline I was born into and which I have practiced for my entire life.”

“The same does not flow through the bloodline of your friend Steve. Or either of your bloodlines.”

“So…………….what exactly are we doing here, lady?” blurted Farrul. He gave an impatient laugh. “You gonna cut to the chase or what?” Farrul clasped his hands behind his back and shook back and forth, shrugging his shoulders. Nickel gave him a sour look and shook his head. “I can take some mysticism,” he said slowly pronouncing the last word, “but I’m not used to all this hawk-.” He shook his hands in front of him to illustrate the murkiness of the hawk religion, “- mystic- stuff. I’ve done the acht-chi before and I’ve never come across hawks- like ever in any of my dreams. So, all this hawk stuff kind of sounds a bit like-.”

Farrul cut off mid-sentence when he caught Nickel’s dangerous look and recognized that the reason he was getting that look was because he could be jeopardizing his only shot at getting answers. The word he was about to utter rang in his head: bullshit. 

He looked down at Elder Hawk. She had a sour look too. Despite how distant her wrinkled features and unfocused eyes made her seem, distaste was apparent. Her eyes were half-closed, but her sinking eyebrows and mouth indicated annoyance. Still, she seemed more disappointed than annoyed. Her air of disdain seemed to say that she had better matters to attend to. 

“Listen,” pleaded Farrul. Nickel just stared at him with distaste as if he was expecting nothing but provocation to come out of his mouth. “We have a place to go. It’s called Hedonim. I’m sorry for coming across as rude, but we really need to get there, so I don’t have the time to be polite. If you could just point us in the direction of how to get there-.”

“It seems that you understand the Desolate Plains less than you let on,” interrupted Elder Hawk. Nickel opened his mouth, then closed it. He stared at his feet, distraught by the conversation. 

“No, no, no,” said Farrul, shaking his hands. “I’ve been here a really long time. Enough to know that I can’t stay here. Like- I’d rather be on a hovercraft all alone, alright. But I can’t. Because I know better. I know that the isolation destroys you or whatever-.” Farrul laughed nervously. He avoided looking at Nickel’s baffled and disconcerted face and focused on Elder Hawk, hoping to get his message to her by staring intently. His mouth was open and slightly moving, but he only made a few stammering sounds. He felt utter despair weigh down on him and constrict his body, creating tension and panic. All he knew at that moment was that,

“I-I-I have to leave, okay!” He caught sight of Nickel’s surprised and troubled face, but he willed himself to bend down and stare directly at Elder Hawk, practically breathing in her face. Elder Hawk continued to stare back at him. Her eyes were still half closed. She didn’t make a sound. 

“I can’t stay here with you. Just fix up Steve if you can because- because-.” Farrul’s voice wavered with the onslaught of a sob. 

Nickel placed a hand on Farrul’s shoulder. He was trembling. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Nickel. “It’s okay. Just back off a bit. It’s-.” Farrul shoved Nickel’s hand away. He gritted his teeth and willed himself not to cry. He frowned and blinked rapidly. Elder Hawk’s face had now softened a bit, but it was still unmoving, now stolid— expressionless. 

“Fix up Steve,” said Farrul. “Please. Because he’s a really good person and he’s helped both Nickel and me a lot. But we can’t- or at least I can’t,” he said, giving Nickel a cold look, “be a part of this tribe. We have to get to Hedonim.” 

“You aren’t entirely wrong,” said Elder Hawk. “However, your impatience drives you far from the truth. I, for one, have no patience for impatience. My role as Elder Hawk calls for many matters including conversing with Great Father Hawk to provide a spiritual latticework for my tribe, all of which drains me of my stamina and energy.” She widened her eyes and looked at Farrul with a sullen expression. “Good day to you until we meet again for your initiation rite— that is, if you choose to meet me again. Nickel can tell you what I had planned to tell you if you had shown more willingness today. If you choose to show the same willingness Nickel showed, I shall speak to you again. Now, I shall return to the slumber that today I was interrupted from.” Elder Hawk turned around and hobbled off into her hut. The door behind Nickel creaked as Elder Hawk slowly closed it.

By G.R. Nanda

“Were-you-there?” quavered Nickel. “With me?” Slowly, his body slowed down and the heat subsided, leaving only cool sweat trickling down his skin. 

Elder Hawk shook her head. 

“Not with you. I only appeared at the beginning and then I appeared once at the end. But I saw your dream. I was peering in from the outside.”

“How did you do that?” asked Nickel. He felt like there was so much about the workings of the acht-chi and the Atlantic Tribe that he didn’t know about or worse– that he was left in the dark about. 

“I have much experience travelling in the dreamscape. It’s a place I have spent much time in. As Elder Hawk, there’s not much moving that I can do in our territory. I move the most in the dreamscape in musing with Great Father Hawk and his instruments of fate.”

“Three times, throughout your dream, I had to deal with the puzzles of another place in the dreamscape. I even spoke to the entity known as the sorceress.”

“You did?” exclaimed Nickel. 

“Yes. I did.”

“Well, what did she say to you?” he asked. 

“That, I cannot say,” said Elder Hawk. “I can only tell you what I deduced from what she told me.”

“But-,” started Nickel. He sighed in defeat. “So…………what’s going to happen………now?” He felt like he’d been asking this question over and over again since the Eagle crashed onto the Atlantic Tribe’s site. 

“Your initiation rite is complete,” said Elder Hawk. “You partook in my tribe’s main mode of movement and action: the acht-chi. You completed your first meditation with me. Meditation will be how I can bring Great Father Hawk to speak with you.”

“Now, a course has been decided for you. There is not anything I can do about it, no matter how I feel about the parts of this course. You came into my world abruptly and I’m afraid you must leave abruptly as well. You have business to finish in the Past World and you must finish it.”

“W-w-what are you talking about?” stammered Nickel. What did she know about his life outside? “What business are you talking about” Although he didn’t mean to, he spoke rashly and with a lot of venom. He was scowling and his face quickly melted into an expression of meek discomfort. 

Elder Hawk slowly smiled. 

“Do not fear, Nickel. Do not make haste with your anger and panic.”

Nickel scoffed. 

“Your anger points to your fear,” she crooned. “What do you fear, Nickel?” 

Nickel felt a sinking weight in his chest. It was a feeling that he was familiar with on board the American Eagle when he was all alone. 

“I-I-,” Nickel stammered and sighed again. He opened his mouth to speak and firmly clamped it shut. He stared into his lap while his chest hunched over. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know!” he exclaimed. He shook his head. “I-I guess I’m afraid of going back to my country. I came from America, you see. I was born there. There are problems there. On the ground. That’s why there are so many people like me flying up in the sky. But, anyways, I was one of the luckier people. On the ground, I mean. My family was in league with the government. My dad had a job as a scientist for the government. My mom was a federal accountant. I was really protected when I was a little kid. Too much, maybe. But outside was hell. Violence, corruption, disease– you name it. My mom figured keeping me inside of our little penthouse was the best thing to do. I was kind of cooped up in there, but pretty much everything my dad and mom worked for with the government was going to this little secure area. Growing up, there was pressure to do something big or important. My parents really wanted me to turn out really smart and useful so the government would pay attention to me and treat me well even though it treated most of the people on the ground horribly.”

“So when I was 12, I got sent to the military base where my dad worked. My parents wanted some kind of genius. They would have been okay with a supersoldier, but my mom, who was the one with a say in all of this, didn’t want me to be sent off and possibly killed. I was neither a genius nor a supersoldier, but I held my own for a while. I actually did really well at the academic school at first. Best in my classes and everything. But I eventually cracked under the pressure. I came to hate the place and I didn’t get much of a chance to turn things around.” Nickel’s voice broke. 

“Base got raided and I’ve been stuck since. On a hovercraft. That’s what I escaped on, but I’ve been stuck on a hovercraft for a really long time.” He chuckled. 

“Weirdly, enough, if I didn’t get stuck in a windstorm, I still wouldn’t have been so lucky all alone on a hovercraft. The loneliness could have killed me. I was stretched pretty thin. My resources were gonna run out eventually. I don’t know if I would have gone where I needed to go. So frankly, I don’t know which version of the story would have been worse. If my hovercraft didn’t get dragged into a windstorm or if it did.” He was silent for a while.

“Huh,” was all he could finally note. 

His head leaned ever closer to his lap. His back was slouching at this point. 

“You’re growing up,” said Elder Hawk. “And you’re starting to see how confusing and messed up the world is. You could hide. Or you could try to confront and navigate it no matter how hard that is. Besides, you’ve made a promise, haven’t you?”

Nickel’s face dimmed. His eyelids moved in and he gave a small scowl. He felt like his insides had turned to ice. 

“How do you know-,” he began, “-she told you didn’t she? The sorceress.”

“Nickel,” said Elder Hawk, slowly and tentatively “I know. I wasn’t told. She showed me. In order for the initiation rite to be completed, I needed to know where you were coming from and where you would be going. Surely, you can see that the two are related?”

“You must understand that we’ve made two initiation rites one. Normally, a member of our tribe would undergo rite at their birth for the adults to project their path. Then, at your age, that member would go through a second rite to see why they were headed that way. 

“So, extra divinations and interactions needed to be taken by me.”

Nickel put his head in his lap. 

“Yes, I made a promise,” said Nickel. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“How come?” said Elder Hawk. 

“Because,” said Nickel, “because-because-because I don’t want to talk about it. It’s hard and it brings back stuff that I try not to think about.”

“Straighten yourself,” said Elder Hawk. 

“Huh?” said Nickel. 

“Why is your head in your lap?”

“Because………it hurts,” said Nickel. 

“Your head?”

“No, no. The world. I dunno. Life. I just- I want to………….”

“You want to hide?”

“Yeah!” said Nickel. He moved his palms away from his face. 

‘Is that going to get you where you need to go?”

Nickel said nothing. 

“They way you’re holding your chest and your head does not show that you want to confront what needs to be confronted.”

“Try this: hold your head high and sit with your back straight, your chest open.”

Nickel didn’t move. His forehead rested on his palm. He finally sighed and did as he was told. He scooted his butt against the basin and straightened his back. He held his head high, looking forward while he frowned. He rolled his shoulders and puffed out his chest. He inhaled deeply. His uncertain eyes met Elder Hawk’s after having shied away for so long. 

“Don’t you feel better?” asked Elder Hawk. 

“Actually, yeah, I do,” said Nickel. 

“It’s more comfortable than slouching,” said Elder Hawk. 

“What would happen if a hawk turned its body down when it wanted to fly or if it was in mid-flight?” she asked.

“It would- fall,” said Nickel. 

“That’s right. It soars by opening its wings and body to the winds. If you want to soar, you have to first open yourself.”

“Alright,” said Nickel. He nodded. “Yeah- that makes sense.” 

“So, why don’t you tell me your promise with your father?”

“I promised that I would return to the United States of America to acquire my parent’s property and wealth in Sector 23 of the Federal Building Estate, use it to set myself up, make sure it wasn’t squatted by corporations and give any extra stuff to good causes if I could.” 

“So, your parents wanted you to acquire their material for your own use instead of someone else’s.”

“Yeah, and it’s all laid out too. My parents put up guidelines that restrict me from going crazy with the money or area space, at least until I’m older. There’s an identification procedure that’s suited just for me. All I pretty much have to do is show up.”

“It was supposed to be activated three months after I fled the military aerial base my dad worked at. It’s been five months since I fled the aerial base.”

“What stopped you from going?” asked Elder Hawk. 

“I’m scared honestly. Settling down is too scary. Especially after the base was raided. I hated that place. I hated to see it go up like that. If I settle down there, I’ll have to go to school. I’ll have to face people. I know there are people on the ground who hate my guts because I have it so easy. Because of all the tech I have. There’s just too much to figure out, so I figured I’ll just fly around in the sky like the rest of the people above. There’s just too much to figure out, so I figured I’ll just fly around in the sky. Above everything. Above all the suffering, you know.”

“That is not something you can avoid,” said Elder Hawk. “You cannot avoid suffering. I suffer. The rest of my tribe suffers. However, there is also suffering in hiding and festering in the fear of our woes instead of confronting our woes. Sometimes more. What good is the hawk if it never leaves its nest? You said yourself, you didn’t know which version of your story would have been worse. There is suffering either way.” 

“Suffering cannot be avoided,” said Elder Hawk. “Open yourself. You have vision. You’ve seen Hedonim and you know that Hedonim will get you and your friends to a homeland where you can join the culture you hailed from, the friends and family you hailed from and make sure that the work and material of your parents is used for nothing but good. You can add  to your vision: ‘use the work and material of my parents to better myself and the people around me.’ A vision gives us purpose and direction in life. Mine is to direct my tribe towards betterment and the way of Great Father Hawk. You don’t need to reach for the larger ideals yet. You have to help yourself before you worry about the world. But, to help yourself, you must move in the direction of what matters to you.”

Different people have different things that matter to them. But their ideals overlap. Their goals intertwine. You will find young people in my tribe who are idealistic, brave and strong. Some of their own goals and visions overlap with yours, especially concerning a path through these plains and the canyons to Hedonim.”

Nickel frowned and suddenly, his eyes lit up. 

“You’re talking about those two girls who defended me from the soldiers!”

Elder Hawk smiled gently and nodded slightly. 

“I can do nothing about the ideas brewing in my tribe about travelling to Hedonim. I can only offer my best judgement before allowing a hearty and prepared course of action.” 

“But who are those girls?” Nickel asked eagerly. 

“I do not know,” said Elder Hawk. “The divination and mysticism of the acht-chi only provides a template. The roles might be prophesied, but it is us who have to try and fill them. We have to find out how to fill them.”

“Well, the dreamscape shows us something new each time, right?” said Nickel. 

“Not necessarily,” said Elder Hawk. “The dreamscape will give us visions to propel us into action. As long as we are moving along a course of action and using the acht-chi to take courses of action, the dreamscape will add details to the picture of our vision. If we stop moving, we stop seeing new things in dreamscape.”
Nickel suddenly remembered something Steve had told him after they had the acht-chi together. A freezing apprehension and fear washed over him. 

“How old are you?” he blurted. 

Elder Hawk once again tilted her head and gave a small, wry smile the way she did when she was inquisitorial about something Nickel had said. 

“I mean-,” Nickel started, feeling on the spot and embarrassed by how blunt he was. “Your tribe- how long do you live? Aren’t you hurt by the acht-chi? Steve, Farrul and I were knocked out for a really long time after the first time I did it. Steve had been doing it the longest and he was awful after.”

“My forebears did no better than your Steve. Like I said before, many people died early. Although the number has been decreased, many in my tribe continue to die early. We developed an intense regimen for engaging in the acht-chi. Anyone who stepped out of that discipline with the acht-chi would certainly face terrible pain. Our science-gurus and scribes will tell you that generations of the Atlantic Tribe adapted at a much faster rate than was expected of most humans. Repeated engagement with the acht-chi killed my ancestors, but it gave greater strength to their kin. With generational improvements in physical design, experience and practice, the Atlantic Tribe grew stronger and more powerful.”

Nickel understood what she was talking about. She was talking about evolution and natural selection occurring at a speed he had never known to be possible. A chill ran through this flesh, raising his hairs and producing goosebumps on his skin. 

“It was divined early on that Great Father Hawk favored patience, discipline and hard work. It was time that proved that divination true.” 

Elder Hawk’s eyes opened wide. She peered serenely at Nickel, leaning forward and quietly grunting as she placed her palms on her knees and pushed forward. 

“For now, the Atlantic Tribe is powerful!” she boomed loudly, causing Nickel to flinch in surprise. “And Great Father Hawk- IS THE MOST POWERFUL OF US ALL!”