It was the big day! Kristan jolted awake, struggling to sleep the night before. Today was the day of the great Taraharu race!
All the village’s youth gathered around the tent of the clan chief, who began to speak. The atmosphere was electric. The men wore green body paint, the women blue.
The Tara were a people known for their phenomenal speed. Their body paint depicted gusts of wind, spirals, and some even had horses—the symbol of their tribe.
The tribe chief, Krataram, spoke: "My little ones, today is the great day! We hold the grand race of our people! The rite of passage to become a Tara hunter, an honor reserved for the bravest and most determined. The rule is simple: catch a strand of mane from a wind horse."
Kristan smiled. He had trained all his live for this moment. He opted for a light outfit, his knife sharp as a piranha’s tooth, and clothes in the colors of his tribe.

"This is it!" he said to himself as he approached the starting line, where the others had already gathered. Everyone knew each other, and the mood was friendly, but it didn’t lack competition.
"Ready, half-pint? You’d better go back to chasing your uncle’s chickens. This race is too dangerous for you." It was Kaven, sneaking up on Kristan.
Kristan grinned. "We’ll see about that! With your big head, you’ll probably get stuck in the trees."
Kaven chuckled. The two exchanged a knowing look.
It had always been Kaven’s dream to become a hunter, but Kristan, too, wanted to be the village’s hero. They knew each other too well—since childhood, they had trained together for this moment. Now, they were rivals.
The race was about to begin. Kristan’s heart pounded, and then, the signal rang out. Everyone dashed toward the wind horse plains.
Kristan was small but extremely fast, so fast that at times it seemed like he was flying. The horses, seeing the horde of Tarahars rushing toward them, galloped away. That discouraged most of the others, except Kristan and Kaven, who had studied the horses’ behavior and waited for them at a strategic point where the valley curved.
As the horses passed, Kaven shoved Kristan, who dodged with agility.
"Not this time, heh," Kaven chuckled, and they both shared a playful glance.
Both of them managed to grab a strand of mane, then bolted back toward the village. It was an intense race. The rest of the village cheered with all their might!
Kristan was exhausted, but he couldn’t give up, not when he was so close to the finish. He drew on every last bit of energy, glancing at Kaven, whose face showed unwavering determination.
Then, something unprecedented happened. They both arrived at the finish line at exactly the same time.
Krataram’s eyes widened, and the village held its breath. Then, he spoke: "We have, this year, two hunters!"
The village erupted with joy. That night, a grand celebration was held, and the two young men were the stars of the evening.
But suddenly, Krataram motioned for the boys to come to his tent.
"My children… I have something important to ask of you." The chief's expression grew stern. The two exchanged confused looks. "You are an exceptional team, the both of you," the chief continued. "You’ve shown this since you were young, and today, you’ve proven it once more. That’s why I have a mission of utmost importance for you."
The two nodded without hesitation.
"You must deliver this message to the Great Chief of the Dokati tribe in the south. This is imperative. I need the fastest, most agile warriors of the tribe—and that’s you."
Kristan fell silent, thoughtful, while Kaven, now finally recognized for his skill, beamed with pride.
"You will leave at dawn," Krataram added.
"You have our word, Chief," they said in unison.
They exited the tent, and Kristan turned to Kaven."Don’t you find this a bit odd?"
Kaven shrugged. "Nah, it’s probably about negotiating more meat or something! And you heard him—we’re the best hunters in the village!"
Kristan smiled. Maybe he was right…
The next morning, they packed their things and set out before dawn.
Krataram saw them off proudly. "Go, my sons! May the wind always guide you."
They sprinted off without looking back. Half a day later, they stopped atop the Silver Hawk Hill.
"I want to see the village one last time. You can see it from here," Kristan said.
Kaven, serious about the mission, reluctantly agreed to pause. Kristan gazed down at the village, just beginning to stir, and smiled. "They’re probably recovering from the party, haha."
But then something caught his eye—off to the west, a massive force was moving toward the village. It was a huge army, heading straight for their home.
"Kaven, look!" Kristan shouted.
Kaven couldn’t believe his eyes.
"We have to warn them! We can still make it in time to save them!" Kristan said, alarmed.
"No way," Kaven replied. "We gave our word to the chief! We can’t turn back now—it would disgrace his honor and ours."
"But it’s the village, Kaven!" Kristan protested.
"I follow the hunter’s code!" Kaven shot back.
Kristan was torn—should he follow Kaven and honor his tribe, or should he turn back to save his family and friends?
Kristan looked at Kaven, hoping to see a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a sign that he would change his mind. But Kaven stood still, his jaw clenched, resolute. He gripped his knife, as if holding on to his conviction with all the strength he had.
“No, Kristan,” he finally said, his voice heavy. “We gave our word. The code is clear. We must deliver this message. The village depends on us… and so does the chief.”
Kristan turned away, watching the army still advancing toward their village, his heart heavy with frustration. He wanted to argue again, but he knew it would be useless. Kaven wouldn’t bend. Not this time. A heavy silence settled between them.
“Then… we keep going,” Kristan muttered, his voice barely audible.
“Yes. We keep going,” Kaven replied, almost mechanically, as if trying to convince himself.
The two hunters resumed their race, but something had changed. The wind that had once carried them felt less light, weighed down by regret. Each step took them farther from the village, from their loved ones, and from the alarms that, perhaps, were already sounding there.
The hills sped by under their feet, but the landscape seemed duller.
Kristan glanced back one last time, a shadow of sadness in his eyes. They had chosen their path, the one of duty, the one of the code.
They were now running for honor.
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