Dilladrum’s expression turned dark. “Yes, yes. The Tenkin are everywhere in these jungles.” He pointed to the horizon ahead of them. “Some tribes are more welcoming than others. Not to worry, my Vintu and I know a good route. We’ll pass through one Tenkin village, but they’re friendly and familiar to us, like the one you call Staul, yes? We’ll make it safely.”

As they climbed higher, they entered a great plain of tall grass that swayed enchantingly with the breeze. Climbing a large rock, they could see for miles in all directions except ahead, where a tall, forested ridge rose several hundred feet. They made camp just before sundown. Hardly a word passed between Dilladrum and the Vintu, but they immediately went to work setting up decorative tents with embroidered geometric designs and neatly bordered canopies. Cots and small stools were put out for each, along with sheets and pillows.

Cooked in large pots over an open fire, the evening meal was strong and spicy enough to make Hadrian’s eyes water. He found it tasty and satisfying after weeks of eating the same tired pork stew. The Vintu took turns entertaining. Some played stringed instruments similar to a lute, others danced, and a few sang lilting ballads. The words Hadrian could not understand, but the melody was beautiful. Animal calls filled the night. Screeches, cries, and growls threatened in the darkness, always too loud and too close.

On their third day out, the landscape began to change. The level plains tilted upward and trees appeared more frequently. The forests that had lined the distance were upon them, and soon they were trudging under a canopy of tall trees whose massive roots spread out across the forest floor like the fingers of old men. At first it was good to be out of the sun, but then the path became rocky, steep, and hard to navigate. It did not last long, as they soon crested a ridge and began a sharp descent. On the far side of the ridge, they could see a distinct change in the flora. The undergrowth thickened, turning a deeper green. Larger leaves, vines, thickets of creepers, and needle-shaped blades encroached on the track, causing the Vintu to occasionally move ahead to chop a path.

The next day it began to rain, and while at times it poured and at others it only misted, it never ceased.

“They always seem content, don’t they?” Hadrian mentioned to Royce as they sat under the canopy of their tent watching the Vintu preparing the evening meal. “It could be blazingly hot or raining like now, and they don’t seem to care one way or the other.”

“Are you now saying we should become Vintu?” Royce asked. “I don’t think you can just apply for membership into their tribe. I think you need to be born into it.”