“Now to the last decision of this night. Do all villages send four archers and trackers to Heronhaven to rid the North of the hairy people? This will take 2 of 3 of all the villages. Please stand”
30 villages stood and Yust was sure the other six not at the fest would have too.
“Send word to the six other villages. All villages should choose and send their archers and trackers to Heronhaven by the passing of a quartermoon. Each should be provisioned with arrows and weapons and food to last at least a moon so as not to burden the northern villages. Our decisions are complete.”
The group started to disperse to their camps. The air was loud with conversations.
War turned to his son and Yust.
“We leave at first light. We have some news to share and preparations to make”
“Papa, Uncle War, may I spend the night in Heroncamp?” It was often tradition, but considering the haste to return and prepare, Yust figured he best ask.
His papa nodded his head. War added his admonition.
“Be at Ravencamp at first light. Your papa and I have already decided those going to Heronhaven. It will be Bran, Caro of Raven and Dun of Heron as archers, you will go to help track.”
Yust nodded with all the seriousness he could, but things could not be better and his mind was smiling, his face fighting it back. He would only be a few days without his newfound object of longing and he’d get to spend more time with his old object of longing and best friend.
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