The sea breeze blew through the camp, the air was full of moisture. Alan sat in the tent, her eyes on the map, but her thoughts flew afar. She straightened up and touched the obsidian dagger at her waist, for the first time learning to think like a chieftain.
"Father, this time the tribe's migration northwards has been entrusted to me, and I shall do a good job! You must help me relocate the tribe quickly in time for this year's spring plowing. The lowland seaside is very warm, we can still farm even if we push it to late May or early June. We can delay planting a bit, but try to cultivate more land to harvest more food in the fall."
"That's right, we must hasten the migration northwards and try to cultivate as much farmland as possible! I've already selected the first batch for the migration north, all from loyal and compliant tribes. Tonight, I will gather the chieftains of each tribe and urge them to head north."
