After the exhausting mating, Haki had used the following night for a rest before she left the cave and Blood Tusk. She had, she hoped, made it clear that she would return as soon as possible and that the gladiator should wait for her right there. Haki had left him the supplies needed for a few days, and her intended destination was not far away. Only a few hours from the cave lay Haki’s village, or at least the current camp of her group.

  It was not a tribe, and the loose collection of 41 trolls certainly didn’t have a name. They had only joined together a few weeks ago, and whether it would last was still written in the stars. Smaller tribes in particular, which often had around 100 members or fewer, came and went among trolls. Sometimes they didn’t even survive their initiation phase, which Haki’s group was currently undergoing. Even if these groups overcame the first, difficult hurdles, such as deciding who would lead or which tiki would be worshipped by the tribe, without tearing each other apart, other factors could still prevent a possible tribe from forming. Often it was outcasts or survivors of wiped out tribes who came together and who simply could not put aside their hatred for each other or build trust. Sometimes too small tribes also merged in an attempt to increase their strength. It was a constant struggle for survival and dominance.

  At least the chosen location of Haki’s group promised a better chance of survival. On the lower ledge of a rocky hill, the decaying remains of a small protective wall were found. The area they took was not much and there were no building remains within their borders. However, Haki’s group had found remains and clues upon their arrival that simply pointed to a former, permanent hunting camp.

  Now it offered a temporary home to the 41 trolls of the nameless bunch, and from the wall, the area around the hill was easily overlooked by the sentries. There were meadows with knee-high grass, making it difficult to sneak up on someone, and the rocky hill made an ambush equally difficult.

  The existing protection was the highest good, whereas not one of the trolls had the luxury of a tipi. Stick racks with taut leather roofs, tent frames covered with tied banana leaves or straw roofs built with the help of the wall, were the resting place of the trolls, not even half of whom were experienced in combat or even able to fight.

  10 whelps, from the little bundle to the 12-year-old offspring, already made up a large part of the group. In addition, there were some old trolls whose knowledge, craftsmanship and wisdom nevertheless secured them a place in the community. The largest group was made up of those who took care of everyday matters and consisted mainly of females: tanning, sewing, expanding the camp, processing meat, cooking. Two of the females were completely without a male and were left to fend for themselves with their puppies, so they were particularly dependent on the group’s favor and the goodwill of the coveted, unattached males.

  Fortunately, Haki didn’t have this problem, although she brought a little prey back to the camp for one of those females.

  “Haki! You’ve been gone for almost five days,” Nira’theba greeted in troll. She was the epitome of a middle-aged hut female, so she was above all a mother and from the same tribe that Haki had previously belonged to. 3 of the 10 whelps in the group were hers alone and she had actually had a few more, but unfortunately they, like her male, had been killed a little over 2 months ago. “Is that for us?”

  “Yes, this is for you, Nira’theba,” Haki nodded. Over her shoulder she carried half a dozen killed meerkats tied together and she put the bundle down at the family’s midday campfire. ”Unfortunately, I couldn’t get more. I was hardly hunting during my exploration.”

  “You don’t have to apologize!” Nira’theba said. She carried a wrapped bundle on her arm, her youngest daughter. The other whelps could be heard in the camp, but they were not seen and the mother bowed deeply while sitting. ”We are deeply grateful to you for your gifts!”

  “We are of the same blood and blood takes care of each other,” Haki replied sympathetically as she squatted down. She was not related to Nira’theba per se, but as a former tribe she was still connected to her. ”In return, you take care of my clothes and weapons.”

  “At least i try,” Nira’theba said as she straightened up. She was a skilled seamstress, but she also had a basic knowledge of blacksmithing. ”But why did you take so long? Were there problems?”

  “I think rather the opposite,” Haki noted cautiously optimistic. Although she could still hardly contain her enthusiasm, she didn’t want to give anyone exaggerated hopes or speak of a miracle, because if it wasn’t one, it would have serious consequences. ”But I’m not quite sure yet. I’ll talk to Djar’Ku in any case right away.”

  Nira’theba nodded in agreement. “If anyone knows what to do, it’s one of the oldest trolls in the jungle,” she said. That she and others referred to Djar’Ku as one of the oldest trolls in the jungle was not so much based on knowledge of who was how old as simply because the troll had reached such a ripe old age. “You’re welcome to join us for supper later. I’ll make a stew with the meerkat meat and everything else I have.”

  “I’ll take you up on that. See you then,” Haki said goodbye and she went to the resting place of the older trolls.

  There were four of them in total, but at the moment only Djar’Ku was sitting on a cloth blanket by the warm, inviting fire. A large, taut leather tarp stretched over him from the wall to two thin wooden posts. “Haki, at last,” the old troll greeted her as he smoked a long pipe. His long hair, unbound, was graying and at least his cheeks were visibly sunken and his face was wrinkled. However, Djar’Ku was more than physically fit, as he was a warrior who had seen his best days. “The spirits have announced your coming.”

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  “Have they?” Haki replied excitedly, but covered. “Then we have truly been blessed!”

  Djar’Ku laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grinned. “As if the spirits ever spoke to me, but I didn’t need them to know that you were still alive. I just told the others so that they would finally stop talking about the worst... you know how it is. Especially the whelps, after the last moons, don’t need to hear about worries all the time and the adults need this peace.”

  “Your wisdom goes far beyond the fight,” Haki said appreciatively. The old warrior also belonged to her previous tribe and he had taught her a few tricks. ”That’s why I’m sitting here in front of you, because I need and seek your advice and knowledge.”

  “If it’s about which male is the best, you have a lot of competition,” Djar’Ku mentioned, looking meaningfully around the camp. ”The females who don’t have anyone have already extended their claws.”

  “I’m not interested in a mate right now,” Haki replied contentedly, his eyes closed. ’Besides, I’ve found a troll that dwarfs all the others in our group – even you.”

  “Is he invisible?’ Djar’Ku smirked, before taking a long drag on his pipe. ”But you sound more than convinced. Tell me more.”

  “You probably won’t believe me, but that’s how it was,” Haki began, looking around again. In such a small space, privacy was not easy, but she was able to tell the old warrior bit by bit about what she had seen.

  Djar’Ku might have been joking a little before, but the troll listened to every syllable with a calm expression and he seemed to be thinking for a moment.

  “And now he’s waiting near that cave, I hope,” Haki said. Now she needed to take a good gulp of water from her drinking bag.

  “Apart from the fact that the part about mating wasn’t important,” Djar’Ku noted soberly, putting the glowing pipe down in a bowl. ”It's ... really hard to believe.”

  “I know, but it’s the truth!”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second,” Djar’Ku nodded. He took the female seriously, visibly. ”You’ve always been a rather practical troll and believe more with your eyes than with your mind and you never act lightly. It was wise not to tell everyone or others right away.”

  “Yes, but as I was saying,” Haki sighed a little frustrated. ”This troll speaks a language I’ve never heard before. Is it perhaps a divine language?”

  “Mhh, can you tell me what it sounded like?”

  “I think he was trying to tell me his name in that language,“ Haki mentioned, and she tried again to repeat the sounds in common language. ’Blha-thus.”

  Djar’Ku carefully ran his fingers over his chin. ’I have heard these sounds many times,” he remembered. In his ears, swords clashed and the screams of long-gone warriors howled again for a few seconds. “When we attacked caravans of strangers or drove back those strange pucks whenever they searched our ruins or wanted to exploit our jungle.”

  A spark of hope flickered in Haki’s eyes. ”So you understand the language?”

  “No,” Djar’Ku replied, but the way he saw the fading hope in the eyes of the female, he immediately kindled it again. ”But I know a troll who understands and speaks this language.”

  “Yes? Is it one of us?”

  “No, not from here,” Djar’Ku noted, not carelessly, while his eyes were fixed on the flames. ’His name is Ja’Jen.”

  Haki couldn’t understand the caution. ’Ja’Jen? Who is that? Which tribe is he from?”

  “He is a troll that should be avoided,” Djar’Ku conjured threateningly. He knew exactly what he was talking about. ”Ja’Jen has been a hermit for countless high summers, a feared but also sought-after voodoo witcher. Many go to him, but not all return.”

  “Why?” Haki asked tensely, for she knew that no troll in their right mind would speak of voodoo witchers offhand.

  Among trolls, they were more than just feared, for only the most worthy mastered the art of voodoo. It was a mixture of ancient rituals and dark magic. Voodoo witchers could take on the good as well as the negative characteristics, blessings and curses, of each Tiki themselves or cast them over a troll, without the Voodoo practitioner serving a specific Tiki.

  “Well, some might not be able to keep the agreed prices,” Dja’Ku assumed. In this case, he knew no more than mere hearsay. Nevertheless, he did not underestimate it and he knew one thing with dark certainty. ”Or Ja’Jen’s tiki, Yani, demands a tribute.”

  All fur plum of Haki stood up when she heard the name of the tiki of Death. “Yani,” she murmured so softly that it was almost more of a thought than an utterance.

  The tiki of death was an exception in terms of numbers. There were three of them in the whole world, with only Yani known here in the Diamond Jungle. Like the mighty gorilla Tzugar, Yani was one of the first trolls to ever achieve the status of a tiki. Many did not dare to deal with him too much, because most living beings feared death out of a natural protective reflex and because it represented something final and unknown to mortals. Only one thing all trolls knew for sure. Yani was powerful and unchallenged. He didn’t need the worship or offerings of the trolls to maintain and increase his power, because all knew the irrefutable truth - Yani was waiting for everyone in the end and he took their spirits into his realm so that his power grew forever.

  “Say you go to Ja’Jen,” Djar’Ku played through deliberately. ”What purpose would it serve?”

  For a moment, Haki hesitated and she pressed her clenching fists to her thighs. Not only was Ja’Jen a voodoo practitioner, but he also served Yani. She really had to pluck up her courage. “I would ask him to help me talk to the giant,” she said just as deliberately, but with a yearning voice. “I want to learn more about him and see if he would do us the favor of protecting us.”

  “You want him to join us,” Djar’Ku mentioned, not disinclined, but the reservations were still heard in his voice. ”If he is what you described, no one would dare to contradict and beg him to make his strength ours. But are you sure that this troll would have the slightest interest in that?”

  “That’s why I want to talk to him. I need to know more...” Haki emphasized. Her eyes reflected the harsh truth of her words. ”And we need help, you know that. We are still hunted and even if we weren’t, we are very vulnerable.”

  “Rather your hoped for miracle,” Djar’Ku nodded knowingly. The old warrior feared neither for himself, nor Yani or anyone else. That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t afraid or didn’t know fear and at the moment, his concern was for his extremely vulnerable group and those who were defenseless. ”If you go to Ja’Jen, I’ll go with you.”

  “Go with me?” Haki replied. She shook her head. ’Everyone needs you here in case of trouble and even if there isn’t, you make everyone feel safe.”

  “It is a risk, yes,’ Djar’Ku agreed. Slowly, the troll rose and stretched his arms up, cracking them. ”But I am curious now, too. I want to see this troll and talk to him myself.” He began to stretch his arms and legs, whereupon Djar’Ku went to an unusually broad katana sword that was almost as long as he was. Some might call his point of view morbid. ”And when will I ever get the chance to meet a Yani follower in the flesh? Either this gravekeeper will stop keeping me waiting and claim me, or he’ll still leave me alone,” the old warrior laughed. ”Then I can at least make the effort to plan for the next few days.”