The Shaman asked them to declare out loud their own name and invited them to approach the Core. He made an incision in the trunk and gathered the pouring lymph in an unrefined goblet and all of them drank from it. In this way, the Creation protects you – said the Shaman, then ordered them to go back and left.
While they were coming back home, Pinch exploded in joy, talked and talked with his friends, nearly running. But most of them proceeded slowly in groups, still silent after all. There wasn’t anything worth saying, was it? There weren’t any words inside of them? One of them shook himself, left the group and ran towards Pinch who was by now quite distant from them, his gaze shining in the dark. Alive. Some of them looked like they were recovering, like they were waking up. They’d passed all those years of training, made of silences and solitude. Others instead kept walking, flanked by the sprites. When did they arrive? They were no longer headed towards home, where they were taking them? They’ve lost them, and couldn’t see them anymore. They started running, following the tracks of their companions. And then they saw where the others had arrived.