The chiefs murmured amongst themselves, their nomadic instincts reluctant to trade freedom for permanence. Many shook their heads, their spirits untamed, unwilling to exchange the open plains and endless skies for walls and foundations.

  Ryden, crouched near the central fire, nodded in understanding, though a flicker of disappointment passed across his face. He leaned forward, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, before glancing up at the gathering.

  "Alright," he said slowly, his voice carrying a spark of enthusiasm, "if you don't want to settle, why don't you consider forming clans?"

  The chiefs turned toward him with curious expressions, their interest piqued. Lyssara, the Ash Coil leader, arched a sharp brow. "Clans?" she repeated, her tone laced with intrigue. "And what, exactly, are those?"

  Ryden smiled, sensing an opportunity. He gestured broadly, his words gaining energy as he spoke. "It's the next step after tribes. Tribes are family—close-knit groups that move together and share everything you guys have started to outgrow that. But clans? Clans are bigger. They're a symbol of unity and strength. They're not just about survival; they're about identity, legacy, and growth."

  Korrin, the Storm Scale chief, folded his arms, his stern gaze fixed on Ryden. "And why should we take such a step?" he asked. "What does it gain us?"

  Ryden spread his hands, his expression earnest. "For one, it sets you apart. You wouldn't just be tribes anymore—you'd be something greater. Clans have structure, systems of leadership with titles that signify more than just roles. A leader isn't just a chief—they're a clan lord. Elders keep wisdom, warriors earn ranks, and your people gain pride in being part of something bigger. It's a way to build a future."

  Torran of the Iron Fang let out a deep laugh, his scarred face lit with amusement. "A legacy, huh? That's quite a pitch, boy. Alright, I'll bite. But if we become a clan, we need a proper name—something better than 'Iron Fang Clan.' That doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

  Rice, who had been lounging nearby, munching on a carrot, suddenly perked up. His eyes gleamed with excitement, and he sat upright like a man struck by divine inspiration.

  "Wait, wait, wait!" he exclaimed, holding up a finger. "I've got it! You need animal names."

  "Animal names?" Torran repeated, his brows furrowing.

  "Yeah!" Rice bounced to his feet, practically glowing with enthusiasm. "Animals are symbols of everything you guys stand for. They embody strength, loyalty, speed, cunning—everything that makes your tribes unique. Plus," he added with a grin, "it'll give your clans some serious style points."

  Torran chuckled, humoring him. "Alright, what animal do you think fits us?"

  "Dogs!" Rice said without hesitation.

  Torran tilted his head, his smile faltering slightly. "Dogs? What's a dog?"

  "Oh, let me tell you about dogs," Rice said, his voice dripping with excitement. He began pacing like a showman about to unveil the greatest secret in the world. "Dogs are loyal. Fierce. They're pack animals, always sticking together no matter what. They're strong, brave, and absolutely fearless when it comes to protecting the people they care about. Doesn't that sound like you?"

  Torran laughed again, this time louder. "Loyal and brave, huh? You make a convincing argument, Rice. Fine, we'll be the Dog Clan."

  Zael was already leaning forward. "What about us?"

  Rice grinned at her. "Easy. You're the Horse Clan. You love horses, right? You're practically born in the saddle."

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  Zael slammed her fist on the table. "Agreed!"

  One by one, Rice moved through the tribes, his energy infectious as he gave each a name that matched their identity.

  When he reached Lyssara of the Ash Coil, he paused. "You're cunning, strategic, and precise," he said. "Snake Clan. It suits you."

  Lyssara's lips curved into a sly smile, her approval evident. "A snake strikes when the moment is right. I like it."

  "Storm Scale?" Rice continued, addressing Korrin. "You're powerful, commanding, and a little terrifying. You've gotta be the Dragon Clan."

  Korrin's stern face lit with rare excitement. "Dragons," he said, his voice reverent. "Yes, we'll take it."

  He turned to the Burning Claw warriors next. "You're fiery, ferocious, and unstoppable. Tiger Clan fits you like a glove."

  Their leader let out a roar of approval, his warriors cheering alongside him.

  Rice spun toward the Moon Step Tribe, his grin wide. "You guys are quick and clever. Rabbit Clan, no question."

  The Moon Step chief, Rynna, tilted her head, her lips quirking in amusement. "Rabbits? Nimble and quick—yes, that's us."

  "To the Cliff Walkers," Rice said, turning toward Barak. "You're strong, sure-footed, and built for the steepest challenges. Goat Clan is perfect."

  Barak nodded, his smile approving. "Mountain goats are resilient. I like it."

  "For the Sky Vine Tribe," Rice continued, "you're agile, clever, and always climbing. Monkey Clan feels just right."

  Nahlia grinned. "Monkeys, huh? Always swinging from one challenge to the next. Sounds like us."

  When Rice reached the Root Binder Tribe, Lyssara chuckled softly. "Pigs, Rice? Really?"

  Rice didn't waver, his grin widening. "Absolutely. Pigs are resourceful, clever, and hardworking. They symbolize prosperity—just like your agriculture. Think about it: Pig Clan. also" he added in a whisper "you guys are my favorite"

  Lyssara's amusement gave way to a nod of approval. " fine you make a good case. Pig Clan it is."

  Finally, he approached the remnants of the Blood Talons. Their new leader, Rennick, shifted uneasily, his people silent and wary. Rice's tone softened, though his grin remained.

  "Roosters," he said gently. "They announce the dawn, a new beginning. That's what you need right now—a fresh start."

  The Blood Talons murmured among themselves, their expressions a mix of relief and hope. Rennick nodded quickly, eager not to offend anyone after the devastation caused by Eris. "Rooster Clan," he said. "It's fitting."

  As the names for the clans began to take hold, murmurs of approval and laughter spread through the gathered tribes, their identities evolving in real-time. Rice turned to the Stone Hoof Tribe, now a collection of weary survivors who had been brought together by tragedy. Once a proud tribe, the Stone Hoofs had been ravaged by the battle with the Blood Talons all of the warriors who had followed Gastrar were gone, and now only the captives of decimated tribes remained.

  Their leader, a steadfast woman named Orlenn, stood at the forefront. Her armor bore the scars of countless battles, and her sharp eyes betrayed a mixture of pain and determination. She stepped forward, her voice strong despite the shadows in it. "We've taken the name Stone Hoof because it was the only thing we had left. But now that we're being offered something new… perhaps it's time to truly start fresh."

  Rice beamed, stepping closer. "Exactly. You're not just survivors anymore—you're builders, workers, and protectors. You're strong as the earth, steady as the mountains. That's why I think you should be the Ox Clan."

  Orlenn's lips twitched into the faintest smile as she considered the suggestion. "Oxen," she said slowly, testing the word. "They're enduring and hardworking. They bear the weight of others but never falter."

  "They symbolize renewal," Rice added, his voice steady and kind. "And strength. Just like all of you."

  The gathered members of the tribe began to murmur, exchanging nods of agreement. Their hands, calloused from toil and battle, seemed to relax as a shared sense of purpose began to take root.

  One of the younger warriors, a boy barely out of adolescence, stepped forward with bright eyes. "The Ox Clan," he repeated, his voice filled with pride. "I like it."

  Orlenn turned to face her people, her chin raised high. "We are the Ox Clan now," she declared. "We will bear this name with pride"

  By the end of the meeting, the tribes were buzzing with excitement, discussing their new identities. Ryden couldn't help but smile as he watched the enthusiasm spread. Torran clapped him on the back. "You outsiders have a way of shaking things up."

  As the firelight danced across the faces of the gathered clans, the transformation was complete. Laughter and camaraderie filled the air as the tribes, now clans, began envisioning their futures. Ryden leaned back against a log, watching the scene unfold with a quiet smile, the sight of hope blooming among these once-fractured people filling him with a rare sense of accomplishment.

  Beside him, Rice flopped down, still radiating the energy of someone who had just solved the world's greatest problem. "I'm a genius," he declared, grinning smugly. "I just recreated the zodiac"

  Ryden chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't let it go to your head," he replied, though the warmth in his tone belied the gentle ribbing.