"There are many of them, it's true," you tell him, "but if we prepare ourselves for their arrival—if we are ready—then we can beat them."
"Perhaps," admits the warrior, "but it is a chilling thought nonetheless. If our enemies still pursue us, then they cannot be far behind. So tell me, Basileios, what are we to do?"
"We will do what we have always done to those who oppose us," you say. "We will cut them down like stalks of wheat, and in time, their dry skulls, set at the gates of this valley, will serve as a warning to those who would intrude upon the domain of the Tribe of the Red Bear."
"You are right," the warrior responds, with a smile. "This journey has made some of us—myself included—forget our pride and our prowess in combat. But no longer. We are warriors of the Tribe of the Red Bear, and we will not rest until our enemies lie dead upon the field!"
Pacified for the time being, your tribespeople disperse, some returning to their yurts, others grouping together to explore the valley. You call your advisors to you and step into your yurt once more.
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