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Reference text ( Maintained text, used as reference ) :
Notes: (Zorroargh, 2020-04-16)

As told by Be'cauer Handan, a tryker storyteller.

Tonight, I will tell you a journey’s step of Ba’yra Lipy, one of the few trykers to have undertaken the passage of the Old Lands Great Desert. Most of our ancestors hardly dared to distance themselves from the Water Road near the aqueduct linking Trykoth lakes to Fyre, the old imperial capital. The Ba’yra’s travelogue is then a valuable testimony of these arid region hostile nature. It is my responsibility as a storyteller to convey this story, so one day, you will tell it to the next generation in your turn.

We are about to follow our reckless adventurer from an out-post, south from Coriolis plain, where he had a restful night. Provided with valuable indications and a hasty map, he planned to track four young fyros who left the out-post a few days earlier to make their rite of passage into adulthood. The day before, Ba’yra had managed to obtain some vague indications on the area where they were going. He then depleted his reserve of beer, trying to loosen fyros’ tongue to know what the ritual was, but they remained stubbornly silent, ordering him even to put aside his curiosity with daunting reproving grunts - maybe it was only fyrk : our fearless hero had not yet sharp ears to understand all subtleties. Ba’yra then set out, slowed down by the weight of several capryni leather water bags, essential for his expedition. After a half day’s march, he only met some small droves of herbivores turning over sawdust to browse much reduced salvolas. Deep down, Ba’yra congratulated himself on buying the map. Even crude, it allowed him to avoid the area of the varinx and zerx hunting grounds. The heat was challenging enough without running out a starving pack.

A welcome bogota’s shade allowed our hero to satisfy his hunger and remove his boots for a moment. Although they were well made, his reddened toes give him the painful impression of being passed through horncher’s claws. The picture of a fleshy claw made his mouth water and he took off his bag a piece of dried fish that he wolfed down. The horizon seemed to be always so distant. How far could he have traveled? If he trusted his map, he had still another half day’s walking before reaching his destination.

No time for a digestive nap. He had to hurry before the daylight faded. Our tireless traveler put on his shoes and began walking again, picking up the pace. After several hours of this sustained pace, the landscape begun to become a little hilly. As specified by his hosts of one night, this should be where the young fyros had had to go. As sunset transformed horizon, veined by some izam’s flights, Ba’yra sought out shelter that could ensure his security for the night and give him an adequate viewing point on the surroundings. At the top of a beautiful dune with savanahs, he finally located the ideal shelter tree and, after lashing his hammock to robust enough branches, he could enjoy at will the breathtaking scenery unfolding below him before darkness.

Later that night, Ba’yra was awakened by running sounds. A flickering light created a play of shadows in the foliage of the savannahs around. Not knowing what or who could be here, our hero held his breath and leaned over to ovserve. A young fyros homina was standing nearby, holding a white-hot torch and stared at the night as if she was waiting for some event. Her youthful facial features, enlightened by the firebrand, contrasted with the determination emanating from her. The still foggy brain of Ba’yra hardly understood she was one of the young fyros he had followed. He incorrectly believed they were boys, a little too fast forgetting that fyros don’t make any difference between their sons and daughters.

Smiling at his mistake, our hero suddenly realized that the young homina was shaking her firebrand with force. Searching what could motivate this behavior, Ba’yra noticed a distant flying spark, seemingly on site dancing. As he was trying to elucidate this mystery, this spark moved closer in the night like a firefly. Watching it, dumbfounded, as it assaulted a ridge, Ba’yra abruptly noticed another one shooting across the dunes. A third one soon appeared further south, running downhill. Overcome with doubt, seeing all the lights converging toward him, Ba’yra felt a nasty shudder run through his spine, but the young homina’s self-balance was enough to reassure him. Sparing no effort, she was now blowing at the top of her lungs in a bodoc’s horn with a off-putting tone. Ba’yra inferred that she was indicating her position to her young fellows.

As they were coming closer, Ba’yra suspicions became clearer. He was now able to discern without any problem figures holding torch. The young homina and the newcomers congratulated each other and spokefor a moment in fyrk, but our hero only heard some approving grunts. Their torches allowed then the confection of a little dry wood blaze and Ba’yra was fascinated by the children’s dexterity.

They took out of their bag some very fresh piece of clopper of which the delicious smell cruelly woke up our hero’s stomach and even led him to salivate. But his reluctance brutally ruined his appetite when he saw the young homins put these delicacies on the fire! Why fyros have so little consideration for food? Why do they eat food after flames irremediably alter it? It is with disgust that our friend observed the children’s meal. And suddenly, without warning, the young girl hurled and jumped through the fire. Ba’yra could not keep from screaming but it was covered by the excited yells of the young fyros who rapidly emulated their sidekick. An invisible witness of this hazardous exercise, our brave explorer had to take it upon him not to interfere with the rite.

Finally, one young fyros lit a firebrand and went to sat down with his peers. They encouraged their friend while she did some additional jumps through the fire. Although not clearly understanding what she wanted to do, Ba’yra believed he could feel some apprehension, or even fear, in the young homina’s behavior. This one had undressed and was now turning around the fire slowly. She sometimes leaned to the ground to collect a handful of what we now known as liketim. She was taking it to her mouth, and after having consciously chewed the leaves, spiting in her hands and rubbing her body. The scene that unfolded under the astonished eyes of our valiant tryker, nearly flopped him out the hammock: the young homina howled a terrible roar and threw herself on the fire by an amazing dive, like a varinx on its prey. Ba’yra’s muffled scream got lost in the darkness only pierced by the light of one torch. The fire was extinguished. The roar had silenced. Ba’yra leaned over to see better. The children were standing before the extinguished fire. The torch light didn’t allow to discern their face but the moment seemed to be grave and sacred. And suddenly their joy rang out and the amused cries of the young fyros tore a small tear from our big hearted hero, for whom alone the flame of childhood would always be worth the trouble of being maintained.

Portal of the Atys Chronicles • Before 2480