An indistinct shadow of a large man sat next to the bonfire inside the dim cottage.
The other two people, who seemed to be a young kid and an elderly decrepit man, were seated next to him on the carpet.
The embers flew freely in the air, the flame emitted crackling sounds, and the glow from the flame emphasized the serious look on the burly man's face.
Meanwhile, the old shaman's fire salamander spent much of the time simply lying about. and even though it was searing hot, its flaming body didn't even leave a trace on the old shaman's coarse woolen robe that he was donning.
During its slumber, it snored softly, clearly content in his rest, while a gleam of flame shot from one of its nostrils and a wisp of smoke emitted from its mouth.
As early as the old shaman began chanting in an obscure tongue, Boarfang began counting the seconds that had passed since then and found that only 10 seconds had elapsed and that neither of them had moved a muscle.
Their postures would seem to be fixed till midnight as if they were solid blocks of stone, impervious to the elements such as wind and rain.
Boarfang did not need to be concerned about the old shaman engaging in misdeeds since he had been a member of this tribe for as long as he could remember.
Long ago, when Boarfang was still a kid. The old shaman used to keep a watchful eye on Boarfang and the other tribal youngsters, just as any kind of elderly person would.
The old shaman would also allow people to cluster around him outside his cottage in the evening, where he would tell magical anecdotes about himself and how he had slain numerous evil spirits during his life.
While the tribe members were unable to ascertain whether or not these tales were genuine, they did not deny them.
Nonetheless, they have seen the magical powers of the old shaman, and so they can only accept it as the truth then.
But that's not all; the old shaman has many interests, including anything from reading from a book to roaming late in the night and returning the next day or even a fortnight later.
After seeing the old shaman's prowess and extensive knowledge of many different remedies, astonished. Boarfang tried to figure out how this person could be so enigmatic.
He had saved the lives of a huge number of ill and injured folks on many instances after returning from hunting, and he had even rescued the lives of people during a plague.
It is unfathomable for us, even after many generations of Hunting Chieftain of the Silent Boulder Tribe, to grasp the extent of the powers possessed by the old shaman. This is true even for the current generation of Hunting Chieftain.
As long as they kept their gaze on him, it seemed that the old shaman was becoming more and more difficult to understand. It's as if he were some kind of enigma. As if he was a black hole through which no light could penetrate.
Even from the day, Boarfang was born, the old shaman has seemed to have an everlasting lifespan. His face has remained unchanged, with no signs of aging or alteration.
According to some versions, this mysterious figure was always present in the tribe, and others think he was a member of the first generation of humans that migrated in the Drylands and maintained dominance over the region before eventually forming this tribe.
He was even claimed by many to be an old vagabond who had been injured and was rescued by the first generation Hunting Chieftain of the Silent Boulder Tribe, and that he had since lived among the tribe's kin for many generations.
The old shaman was the most valuable asset to the tribe since, without him, the many tribes that were near to them would have perished in great numbers. The only thing he would ever do was to utilize his abilities for evil, and solely to assist those in need.
In fact, the first generation Hunting Chief attempted to persuade the old shaman in terms of wealth and power, but the old shaman's eyes didn't even blink as he stared at the first generation Hunting Chief's eyes in the manner of looking at an idiot, as if he to ask, "Is that all?"
If the old shaman had assisted them in establishing supremacy. Boarfang couldn't foresee how far this tribe would be able to progress under his guidance, assuming that becoming a large tribe would not even be a pipe dream at that point in history.
Every tribe, including the two neighboring middle-class tribes, was spellbound as they had revered and respected the old shaman.
Numerous warriors had been led by them as they sang praise to the old shaman, since their very own shamans, from generations to come, couldn't even match to the Silent Boulder Tribe Shaman when it came to capability, much alone compare to fart.
The two shamans from those middle-class tribes got together with the shaman from the Silent Boulder Tribe and had a few talks. Despite this, they all shook their heads in dismay, as they couldn't comprehend the capabilities of this old monster.
In fact, Boarfang didn't even know what he was called by his given name! Like his name had gone into the mists of time, and the only thing they could remember about themselves was the title of "Old Shaman,"
As Boarfang's power grew over the years, it didn't matter whether he had fought enormous beasts with his bare hands or hacked those monstrous creatures in two by his battle axe.
For as long as Boarfang remained still in the old shaman's presence, all he could see was the vast disparity in their powers, and he could only grunt in frustration as he realized that there was no way he would ever be able to bridge the gap between their powers.
As far as he's concerned, the fact that the old shaman took action against his adopted son is a good thing.
Boarfang wagered that the old shaman would be able to get insight into his adopted son's problems since he had been feeling uneasy ever since the boy had entered their house.
He didn't show it and seemed like everything was alright on the surface, but Boarfang knew something was wrong with him, as goosebumps came out all over his body the moment he hugged his son.
Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with him.
The person in front of him was just a 5-year-old kid, and what could even a 5-year-old youngster have done. Either from pooping in his trousers or from pooping on his cleats.
This feeling only came from him because his senses had been sharpened to the limit, as they had only recently arrived after the hunt had been completed.
Including the fact that they've been in the same household for five years, they are already familiar with their son.
Moreover, for beings of their caliber, instinctive tremors would develop whenever the prospect of confronting ferocious creatures presented itself.
At the very least, his wife Geraldine was unaware of it, since she had long since retired from her warrior duty and taken on the role of housewife. Her senses have grown dull, and she is no longer fit to fight.
In the end, Boarfang could now see that the old shaman had already started to tremble slightly.