Ch. 129: The Serpentine Celebration
We had returned to the Snakeman tribe's lands, Anok, the one-armed traitor, now in tow. His head hung low as the villagers greeted us, their slitted eyes narrowing as they took in the captured betrayer. Arman's arrival, however, drew more than silent stares. The fourth prince had been missing for days, feared dead or worse, and his sudden return sparked a mix of relief and unease. That I had accompanied him back didn't go unnoticed.
Healers rushed to tend to Arman's wounds, though the warrior himself shrugged off their fussing. His natural resilience was remarkable, his body healing far faster than any mortal should, but even he winced as bandages were wrapped tightly across his muscular frame. There was little time for rest, though. Soon, Arman invited me to join him for a meal in his large, vine-covered hut, a space designed for both comfort and tribal rituals.
