Do we need Omakes? Yes. Here we go.
@Questor
Omake title:
There's a foul wind coming from the south
Shaman Blackhoof has been staring into nothing for a while now. Even as the Shaman's caretaker, you are unnerved.
But you had seen him do this before. Once.
The clan you are both members of, the Thundering Hoofs, is a very minor clan in the grand scheme of things, but you've definitely pulled your weight when it became necessary. And being sworn to the Raw Hides, the relatively smallest of the Great clans, and also the most isolated from the more fertile lands, meant that no clan could afford freeloaders.
Some of your clanmates have stated that they see you as one such freeloader, as you do not go gather food with the gatherers, nor do you scout ahead for any threat to your clan. But you ignore them because your task is just as important if not more.
Shaman Blackhoof has been acting as the guide of the Clan Head for more than seven decades. During those decades, he has guided your clan towards richer lands, and away from the occasional monster that wanders in from the wastes to the east, but he has been getting old; and his recently acquired apprentice, a young Yak named Chipped Horn due to an
incident which he refuses to speak about, is not yet patient enough to listen, and later speak, the stories told by the Wind and the Earth.
You were tasked by the Clan Head to assist Blackhoof with whatever he needs several years ago, and now you occasionally help out Chipped Horn should he encounter difficulties in his studies.
Just this morning the Shaman entered one of his daily meditating sessions in his tent. He disliked being disturbed during this time, so you took the opportunity to teach Chipped Horn about the Herbs that are available to your clan. It was, after all, the Shaman's task to heal anyone in the clan who required it and it would not do to confuse the herbs that heal when ground to a paste with the ones that will ease his communion with the World when burned.
Chipped Horn had already made that mistake once. Thankfully he was just practicing, and he's unlikely to make the same mistake again, but you still remind him of it every once in a while.
It was when the sun was at its highest point that Blackhoof emerged from the tent, seemingly unaware of the world around him and walked until he was facing southeast.
Then he stopped and hasn't moved since.
"Should we go... see if he's alright Thick Fur?" Chipped Horn asks you, looking up from the bowl containing a half-made healing poultice.
"No." You sternly reply. "I have seen him do something like this once before. When he came to he said that the clan should stockpile as much food as we could. That same year, the winter's cold embrace was the worst seen in generations and food became almost impossible to find. If the Shaman hadn't warned us, many more of us would have starved. And not all clan's were as lucky as us." You can still remember coming across a gravesite for the members of one such clan soon after that dreadful winter ended.
The replicas of the Horn Markings on the headstones revealed them to be part of the Stone Treader clan, and their numbers before the winter hadn't been great, perhaps a hundred; but the cemetery that the scouts came across contained the remains of at least twenty. You remember that the lands in which they frequented had been hit by the scarcity the hardest, but knowing it had been nothing compared to the consequences of the fact.
Chipped Horn winced and continued grinding down the herbs and roots in his bowl. He had been among the younglings of the clan back then and losing his sickly grandfather to the famine had stuck with him for years. At least you had imparted the importance of this situation.
It wasn't until the sun was halfway from entering the horizon and calling the night from below when Shaman Blackhoof moved.
He inhaled the cold air deeply as if he had been doing heavy exercise for the past few hours and needed to rest a little before moving towards you. And there was something in his eyes.
Wariness? Resignation?
Fear?
"What do the Earth and the Wind say, Shaman?" Chipped Horn respectfully asks.
He's coming into his manners at least. Good, he might just become a Shaman yet. You think to yourself. The clan will certainly need him if Blackhoof's attitude is anything to go by.
"Is it another winter?" You ask, already fearing the answer.
"No, Thick Fur. It is not." Blackhoof says in his gravelly voice.
Dread.
His voice is filled with Dread.
He then turns back to the southeast with the weary eyes only an Elder Yak can have.
"A Shadow is moving. Can you feel the cold it brings? Can you feel its Darkness?" He asks.
Neither you nor Chipped Horn says anything.
"I must speak with the Clan Head about this." He abruptly says and moves towards the main tent with determination in his steps.
"What... What do you think he saw?" Chipped Horn asks you while looking at the southeastern skyline. Some hills, some mountains, and some clouds; that's all that has been in that direction ever since your clan settled the area.
"I don't know." You say.
"You should continue your studies Chipped Horn." You tell him, "The clan might need you soon enough." As you turn to follow Blackhoof, Chipped Horn speaks up.
"Thick Fur," he says. "when the Shaman told us about the Shadow," he hesitates before continuing.
"...did you feel the air getting colder?"
You tell him to bring it up with the Shaman when he returns.
His Gift is starting to bloom then, good.
As you turn away from the southeast and begin making your way to the Clan Head's tent, you can't shake the uncomfortable feeling that there is something over those mountains looking at you.
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I would like the bonus to go towards either making allies with the Yaks (easier to ally with than the Qilin, given that they are right next to us) or weapon development (Fire-weapons/Cannons), whichever comes first.
. Just a hunch
