As the spear took form under his hands, Midas's thoughts drifted to what would happen in the afternoon.
The afternoon would bring battle training, a dance as old as time, where boys learned the art of war.
In a world where the line between survival and extinction was as thin as the blade of a spear, readiness was not a virtue but a necessity, and Midas knew that too.
This was why he was somewhat looking forward to the battle training. It would be a time when he and the other kids would engage in hand-to-hand combat and weapon combat with sticks and spears.
Something was calming about the exercises and Midas always found it cathartic.
As the tool crafting came to an end, the old man Tabo, an old man in this village someone who had lived through forty summers, started feeding Midas all sorts of propaganda on why he should become a warrior and a craftsman otherwise his gift that was given to him by the Ancestors would be wasted.
