At dusk when the villagers were done their harvesting they would return to their thatched huts, the village elder would sound the gong, signing the end of the day. At night the village would take a siege mentality. Doors would be shut, the cattle would be returned to their sheds, children, women and elderly moved to the underground caverns. The village was crisscrossed by a system of interconnected tunnels that we called the ‘Uru’ or the protector in our language.
All this protection was not for bears and leopards prowling the forest. Rather the ‘skraelings’ that lurk in the dark. What I have known about them are from fables and local tales. Our ancestors arrived in this forest five generations ago. Upon arriving they cleared the land, burnt the forest and curved the landscape to cultivate crops. After them came the soldiers of Ishmier, of whom most of the people here claim their lineage. They setup a frontier base in the hillocks to scout for enemy army movements. The battles with the neighboring town of Fjula ravaged the lands.
After the fall of Ishmier, the new Emperor tried consolidating his power over the forests; local tribal leaders were captured and hanged. The backs of the tribes were broken, their family desecrated and property confiscated. The last remaining tribe, the Souk, fled from the villages and sought refuge in the forest.
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