Morning came.
The light of the rising sun spilled into the cave, painting the stone walls in gold and shadow.
His eyes opened slowly, the weight of the day pressing against his chest before he even rose.
The time had come.
Today, he would face them.
Today, he would try to meet the tribe.
For a moment, a thought coiled in his head: what if they already knew Karo?
What if this body had belonged to them once, and they saw him not as a stranger but as someone returned?
Or perhaps they did not know Karo at all, and his connection to them was only imagination.
He shook the thoughts away.
Speculation meant nothing.
If this was truly his second life, then it would be built by his actions, not Karo's shadows.
He sat up from the stone floor, bones stiff, muscles still sore from the hunt.
He draped the boar-hide cloak across his shoulders, its weight heavy but reassuring.
The horned skull helm settled onto his head, pressing down but filling him with pride.
He chewed a strip of dried meat, swallowed a few tart berries, and lifted his waterskin to his lips.
The cold liquid slid down his throat, washing away the taste of iron and smoke.
Strength returned with every gulp.
When he stepped outside Ako's Haven, the world greeted him with silence.
Yet he felt it, eyes in the brush, watching and waiting.
The same eyes that had haunted him since yesterday.
They thought themselves hidden, but their presence burned on his skin.
He glanced across the rocks and trees; shadows shifted where none should.
Still, he pretended not to notice.
He would not give them the satisfaction.
At his feet, the dried stains of blood still marked the ground.
Bones and scraps from the boar lay scattered, already picked clean by scavenger birds.
Massive creatures, almost as large as he was, hopped and flapped across the stones, their sharp beaks tearing at flesh.
They looked at him with eyes like cold knives.
One day, he told himself, he would hunt them too.
But not today.
Today, he prepared for diplomacy.
He gathered the bundle of meat he had set aside and lashed it together with cord.
He slung his waterskin over his shoulder.
His spears rested across his back, half a meter each, shafts hardened with fiber, tips sharpened stone.
He looked unarmed, but he knew: to pull one free took less than a heartbeat.
Half a second, and anyone who dared attack him would find themselves bleeding on the earth.
Confidence steeled him as he took the first steps.
He walked toward the tribe's direction, every crunch of soil beneath his feet echoing in his chest.
Behind him, faint sounds followed: leaves disturbed, branches snapping, whispers of movement.
They tracked him, they followed, but he did not turn.
Their presence did not frighten him.
He was not their prey.
He was Ako, the hunter.
At last, he stopped in an open clearing, not far from where he knew their settlement must be.
The sun sat high, shadows short and sharp.
He would not march into their village uninvited; that would make him an enemy before words were spoken.
Instead, he claimed this ground as neutral.
Slowly, he knelt and placed the bundle of meat and waterskin on the earth.
He lifted his hands and extended them forward.
A gesture older than words: Take this. It is yours.
The forest held its breath.
Then, the brush stirred.
Two figures emerged, the same women he had seen before.
Naked, unarmed, hair tangled, skin painted by the sun.
Their voices were whispers, their steps cautious but not trembling.
Their eyes held more curiosity than fear.
They recognized him, or perhaps only the story of him.
More shadows moved.
Two, then three more women stepped out, and finally, men followed.
They clutched only clubs.
Their faces were masks of shock, awe, and suspicion.
They stared at him as though he were a beast that had walked out of the flames.
They did not know him.
They did not know Karo.
Three men stepped forward, closest to him.
Their shoulders were tense, hands ready to strike.
He remained still and calm, the boar skull glaring with tusks above his eyes.
He pointed again to the gifts at his feet.
His hands repeated the gesture, slow and patient.
Take them.
The men hesitated, whispering to each other.
Suspicion clenched their jaws.
Their eyes darted from his cloak to his spears to the bulge of muscle beneath the hide.
They expected violence.
But then he noticed the women.
Their gazes were different.
Where the men saw danger, the women saw strength.
Their eyes were wide, lips parted, some biting down to stifle emotion.
It was not only fear.
It was something else.
Time stretched.
The air thickened.
His heart pounded, but he did not move.
At last, one of the men crouched and reached for the bundle.
His hand shook.
He lifted the meat, eyes never leaving Ako's.
The others followed, collecting the gifts.
They clutched them close, still staring into him, and then, slowly, they stepped back.
Step by step, their bodies retreated toward the brush.
They did not turn their backs, not until the trees swallowed them whole.
The clearing was empty again.
Silence fell, broken only by the beating of his heart.
Then, from the edge of the trees, one figure lingered.
One of the women, the same one who had first watched him from the bushes.
Her eyes burned into his.
Her lips parted, and in the softest of whispers, words crossed the space between them:
"Thank you."
The sound froze him.
Their words.
He understood them.
He understood her.
A door had opened in his mind.
He nodded slowly and dipped his head in acknowledgment.
You're welcome.
Then he turned, shoulders squared, and walked back to Ako's Haven.
[+80 XP]
Charisma +1
New Skill Progress: [Diplomacy Lv.2]
Back in the cave, He took stock of what remained.
The hanging meat still swayed gently against the wall.
The waterskin was half full.
He had shelter, food, and water.
Enough for days.
The fire's embers glowed faintly, warming the stone.
Survival, for now, was secured.
But his mind was not at rest.
He lay down, the stone floor cold beneath him, the hide heavy across his chest.
His thoughts circled endlessly:
Would they return tomorrow?
Would they test him?
Would they accept him?
The horned helm rested at his side, tusks catching the firelight.
He closed his eyes, exhaustion sinking deep.
Darkness took him slowly, pulling him into dreams of battles yet to come, of faces in the shadows, of women whispering his name.
And as sleep claimed him, one thought burned above all: this was only the beginning.