“I’ll shut your mouth before this day is done,” promised Wynf.

Despite sporting a broken nose and bloodied lip, Sparrow eagerness had not abated. “You’ll still be wrong… coward.”

“What is the meaning of this ?”

As if an off switch had been pulled, both Wynf and Sparrow froze in their tracks. Helmut searched out the source of the voice revealed a black-skinned man past his prime with a lanky, yet muscular frame. Although bald, the man possessed a substantial beard that was braided and weighted by an arrowhead. The garb that he wore was a modest burgundy robe underneath a leather vest and sandals. His slouching posture became apparent with every step forward, giving the appearance of one always staring at the floor, his weight supported by a cane less impressive than Nina’s.

Sparrow and Wynf swiftly dropped to their knees, joining the rest of the village, save the quartet.

“For what reason are you two engaged in combat ?” The old man’s voice had the deceptively melodious quality of two stones being rubbed together, the white noise undercurrents belying his power. “I trust that you have a good reason.”

The combatant’s muted response was proof that they didn’t.

The old man took a deep breath and sighed, cracking his neck muscles with an expression of annoyance. He gazed down at the quarrelling children, brow drooping over his eyes like tapioca. “If there is no reason then there is no fight. Stand.” Wynf and Sparrow leapt to their feet to keep the man, whom was just a little over half Sparrow’s height, waiting. The onlookers also stood up, preferring to be safe rather than draw his ire. “What has happened here ?”

“Sparrow has defiled our custom,” reiterated Wynf, sparing a piercing glance at the quartet. “Like all of foreigners.”

“I haven’t defiled anything,” countered Sparrow. “In fact, I’m the one of the few here that respects our customs; I am not afraid to fight.”

“To love one another, despite what are perceived as flaws, has always been our way. I expect this temporary lapse of judgment to not be repeated Wynf.”

“But--”

“Yes…?”

Wynf said nothing.

“To be accepted to as part of our family requires one to uphold those customs and traditions of our people, regardless of the consequences. For without those customs, we are not ourselves.”

“You know this is wrong, pops,” bargained Sparrow, dropping back down to one knee to establish eye contact. “How can we stand around here doing nothing while our people suffer ? I know it has something to do with that beast… Look, I’ll go alone, if no one else wants to.”

“And you know full well the price that will have to be paid by anyone that disregards tribal law. No one is immune from that law be he foreigner or Chief’s son.”

Sparrow was caught off guard by the use of rank against him, to further hammer home the point that, in this case, any leverage that he may have enjoyed in the past when caught flirting with married women or stealing fresh fruit in broad daylight from the supply shed would be used against him with full impunity.

Meekly bowing his head, Sparrow acquiesced to the Chief’s demand. “Yes, father, I understand,” he mumbled at his chest.

“I suggest that we all return to more productive ventures,” he bellowed, turning to the quartet. “I would also like to take this time to greet our guests and offer them the full hospitality of our means. You are welcome to stay for two nights, if necessary, and please take care to return our charity in kind.”

As the crowd dispersed, Sparrow heard a single question, poised in Wynf’s hushed tones.

“Now who’s the coward ?”