Part 1
Ren looked out at the sea. It boiled and frothed on the rocks below. He thought about his Pa. The anger on his face as Ren had stormed out of their shack far from where he now perched.
'Never come back here, you bring danger to us all!' His Pa had stormed.
Danger. What danger could he bring from wanting to speak to the men who had landed on the tall ships?
He could see them now. Milling about on the beach, smaller boats ferrying back and forth from the ships they had arrived in. There were three of them, tall masted things. Sails now tucked up safely on their masts.
One of the watchers had stormed into the village two nights past shouting the alarm. The elders had met in the gathering hut. The chief came out after short minutes and told the waiting villagers that ships had arrived from the far shores. He warned that the gods had spoken.
'These men bring pestilence and fire. We must have nothing to do with them.'
His Pa had held him tight then. Knowing that the ever inqusisitive Ren would have spoken. Instead squirming in his Pa's tight grip he had remained silent.
The villagers were packing up what small supplies they had and preparing to move inland, back to the hills. Earlier than they ever had. Barely enough provender to last them the Winter.
Ren had darted out later. It had rained that night. Fat wet drops splashing through the high trees as he made his way to the beach the watcher had spoken of.
There he saw them. Men shouting and hauling caskets and crates onto land and establishing an odd looking camp. Others already beached huddled under canvas humped up on sticks.
The words they shouted made no sense to Ren but he did not sense any danger from them. What kind of men were these that could sail out of sight of land?
He had spied on them ever since until his Pa had challenged him over his whereabouts those days. His Pa was not kind and when he listened to Ren as he described watching the men from another land he had raged of the danger posed by them.
'We are leaving tomorrow, you must be ready. It is a long trek. Nothing good can come from these men. The gods of the flame have spoken. You must stay close.'
'But Pa, shouldn't we talk to them? Perhaps they are here to trade? Like the tribes from the green forest?'
'The only trade they deal in is death young Ren. We have heard of these men from the tall ships. Pestilence and fire is all the bring.'
Ren had shouted then. Why was everyone so scared? He told his Pa that he had spoken to the men. His Pa had blanched before shouting in rage and throwing Ren from the hut with his imprecation to never come back. The villagers had hurried upon his word and set out to leave.
Ren had lied. He hadn't spoken to the men. He had laid out gifts for them whilst they slept. Gourds and fresh fruit. In the early light the men had came out of their domes of canvas and saw the gifts. One of them had came near the treeline speaking out in his garbled tongue. He looked to be beseeching with whoever had left the gifts. The mad had a sad face.
Ren felt it then. He knew his fate lay far beyond his little village. He wanted to see beyond these shores.
He stood up and gazed down at the beach below.
Today he would take the first step on his journey. He ventured slowly down. The camp his aim.
This was his destiny, he could feel it.
