His family and his entire community were dedicated to the Forest and to the service of their elder brothers, as they used to call them. He had never met anyone from the other clan, but he knew it would be the Shaman to guide them for the first time to the Core of the Forest to educate them to her magic and to the respect of her fragile system.
The community used to hunt for itself and for the twin tribe, also it used to gather precious information about the Forest’s species and creatures, the useful or dangerous ones for the community. The community used to keep the balance among all the life forms, in contact with the sprites that at every sunset were approaching to their nest, and then stopped, waiting. They used to remain lined up in a row within a few steps from the trees on which the community had built their homes, scaffoldings, nets. The oblique light was shining on their hollow little heads and was reflecting upon their curvy connections fastening them to the ground; their opalescent little body was floating between the ground and the surface, at some points all absorbed by the ground and then again exposed. At that point, in silence, they descended to the ground, giving the little spirits their tribute and reconcile, through t hem, with the Forest herself. The adults laid on the ground little statues carved in the wood, made at the end of the day, in silence. Every carved image carried a personal and unique message and fortified the pact with the little creatures: the community pledged to cure the Forest and the sprites, in return, would not feed upon them during the night time.