The celebration stretched through two sunrises before the haze of sweet brew and roasted meat gave way to something far more enduring: the rhythmic, purposeful hum of an awakening giant.
The drunken euphoria of the feast completely evolved into a frantic, purposeful vitality.
Over the next few days, the entire Veynar tribe came alive with an infectious, buzzing momentum, caught in an intoxicating balance of ceaseless hustle and absolute security.
The morning mist no longer hid the fear of an impending raid; it parted under the warm autumn sun to reveal wide-open ironwood gates, through which an endless stream of people flowed like a river fed by mountain runoff.
From dawn until long after the night-fires were banked, the Great Square and every thoroughfares were choked with constant, purposeful movement.
The quiet forest tribe that had once huddled behind defensive timber walls had transformed into the roaring heart of a Paramount Chiefdom .
