The search had taken too long. The search party were starting to get weary. The supplies seemed to be depleted. The Shaman felt nervousness creeping in inside him as he wondered what would he do if he had to return without the prey. At very first sight of daylight they had resumed their search. The grass was moist from the dew from the previous night and even the leaves of the trees dripped a drop or two every once in a while. The birds had arrived and the rodents scrambled back their refuges as they hadn't expected any predators this early. The vegetation, shrubs, bushes, wild plants, all looked extremely bright. The colors emanating from the scene looked too psychedelic to be captured at its zenith by the human eye. Everything had a dazzling shine on it perhaps on account of the dew. They kept looking out for residues and leftover foods. They kept finding these landmarks every once in a while, and it helped them greatly in ascertaining the direction of their search. The waning state of supplies didn't seem to bother the Shaman as he didn't hesitate in ordering any luxury for himself. The rest of the group settled in comforting themselves that they were trained warriors, made for these types of hardships, but deep down they were getting agitated by the behavior of the Shaman. It was the first time he had offered himself to be so close to the people. He was seldom seen away from the podium of the Temple, invigorating the devotees with his sharp words, or the Circle of Power, putting an end to some infidel's misery. The Chief had been the people's man and anything that Shaman said, which was other than religious, was relayed on to the people by the Chief in the gentlest ways possible. But seeing him among themselves, hurling profanities at his own people like he did with his victims, whose dooms they all used to celebrate, and treating his own people in the most derogatory manner that was alien to the greatly formal people of the village, was deeply troubling the members of the search party. All the greatness that they had always presumed and expected their supreme religious leader to have was proving fiction in front of them. He was not being any extra, he was being just the way he was all the time but the people had never had the chance to observe him for this long in his substance. The disrespect had gone to the extent that the express orders from the chief to surrender to the Shaman were the only reason for the men to not to abandon the maniac midway.
They had kept walking for hours that the sunlight had rendered the forest from warm to significantly hot. Half the search party used the spears and pikes as walking canes. The Shaman was as usual, mounted on the extravagantly decorated horse, indifferent to the suffering. After a long while one of the dogs shot off. The handler was smart enough this time to have loosened the grip of the rope, so he avoided being pelted in the air because of the excitement of the beast. He let the hound reach whatever it wanted to show them. The group hurried behind the dog and soon the other dogs also started to sense something in that direction. Soon they got to the excited war dog standing above a pile of charred branches. An extinguished bonfire had been found and they were further confirmed that they were on the correct course. As they were about to move on, a warrior exclaimed, "Wait a second, what's that?"
"Didn't all his friends flee with the boats?", he continued with his question. The rest of the group shared gullible looks with each other. Finally, an apprentice responded, "Yes, they left him behind."
"There are two pairs of feet on the dirt", the warrior spoke, visibly anxious. "What the hell is going on?"
"I don't know, we were supposed to be chasing one man but…"
"Even if this big group of you morons is too little to catch two men, you all should kill yourselves before someone else does!", the Shaman shouted as he emerged from behind them on his horse. The apprentices in the group straightened themselves spontaneously after hearing the Shaman's voice while the warriors almost responded to the insult.
"Any bright ideas, who could have made the second pair? Anyone from the village that might me helping the blasphemer?", the Shaman asked. The question was responded by the search party with silence.
"Now where do they lead?", the Shaman continued. The warrior tried to make some sense out of the facts in front of him. The dogs had stopped detecting anything since leading them to the bonfire. "They lead nowhere", a warrior stood up after a close inspection of the footprints.
"We must continue looking for the bonfires or anything of interest, the way we had been doing till now", he continued. The entire group was dismayed by the news. They were growing more and more impatient. They continued the search and walked on the course derived by matching the previous two bonfires and the direction of the river. The hunger was kicking in and the indifference offered by the Shaman was working as salt to the wounds. The groups starved as he munched on the last of the supplies, while being glued on the horseback. The younger members of the group stared at him with miserable faces and he kept ignoring them as if they were invisible.
"Can we have something to eat, master?", one of the junior apprentices finally dared to ask. He wasn't in any way prepared for the response of the Shaman. The apprentice had always looked up to his master as a benevolent devotee who dared to take hard decisions to please the gods. The rest of the group halted, as they all sensed the storm brewing.
"You fragile swine! Hunger defeats you already. Gods expects so much of his men and the men are so helpless against the sin of gluttony", the Shaman shouted. The apprentice shrunk and bought the narrative.
"You must remain strong enough to serve the gods. This is their test that you are all succeeding in. On the other side of the plain, all your pain shall be…"
"Enough of these hollow promises", a senior warrior interjected. The Shaman looked to the warriors as if he had pulled the clothes from his body. The Apprentices and the warriors had often been on the other side of the fence and had had quarrels all the time, the warriors being commanded by the Chief and the apprentices being commanded by the Shaman. But the treatment of the Shaman towards the apprentices had been too much for the warriors to bear. The warriors had been trained to overcome all sorts of harsh environments and hardships of wars so they had built an endurance in themselves but the apprentices were mere temple assistants who had spent their lives in the services of the temple. They weren't trained for such days at all. It was high time that a few of them dropped from dehydration or starvation.
"You dare insult me, the high Shaman, like this? I will have you strangled on the trees here and now!", the Shaman was fuming with rage. He turned red with anger and neither the apprentices nor the warriors had seen him in such a state. The apprentices trembled in fear regardless of their seniority but the warriors didn't seem to care that much.
"We are the ones who execute the orders. if it's against us, who'll carry out your commands? Your frail apprentices? Against us, the combat trained warriors?", the senior most warrior spoke out. The Shaman was outspoken. In ideal circumstances he would have carried out his routine, communing with the gods, shenanigans and ordered the execution of the warrior along with a few others who even showed an ounce of support for him. But the warrior was right and the Shaman was not stupid enough to ignore the truth. The warriors only blindly followed the Chief. The hunters, however, were neutral mercenaries. He didn't acknowledge the threat he would face when he decided to lead the warriors. They weren't as gullible as the apprentices. They were known to have questioned the chief in many instances and Baka had explained his logic hence enhancing his respect among his men. But on the other hand, the apprentices were only trained in one skill; servitude. They wouldn't stand a chance against the warriors or hunters.