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You've made your mind up. First of all, you'll take Jurvaz with you – he's lived for this long and he was able to break into the bunker, he's bound to be useful in one way or another. Second, you're going to go back to the bunker. There's far too much precious technology left behind there for you to just move on and leave it behind for scavengers. First of all though, you need to rest.
Unfortunately, thanks to the hospitality that Blayz offered you, you have nowhere to sleep other than in the chieftain's hut as his guest. You half-expect that the man might try to rob you while you slumber, so you take a few steps to thwart him. First, you remove the magazine and tuck it in one of pockets of your jumpsuit. Second, you sleep on top of the unloaded submachine gun. It's uncomfortable but that's to your advantage, it means that your sleep will be lighter. Third, you make sure that while your knife is out of sight, it is within reach.
The night that follows is a restless one. You constantly shift and stir on top of the bundle of furs you were assigned and beneath the confines of your jumpsuit, you find yourself sweating incessantly. Blayz either noticed your paranoia or chose to honour your agreement, as he spends the evening sleeping soundly beside his wives. You don't regret your precautions though – it's better to be safe than sorry.
As soon as the light of dawn starts to over the horizon, you take your leave of the chieftain's hut. A couple of early risers are generous enough to point you towards the home of Jurvaz, a sorry little shack on the outskirts of the village. The savage is still asleep when you arrive but once you've roused him, you explain the situation to him: His brother wants him gone and you're willing to take him with you. To begin with, he objects.
“What happened to protectin' the Voss? I brought you back 'ere for a reason, you were goin' to protect us and they were goin' to respect me for the first time in my life, 'cause I was the one who brought the saviour to our tribe!”
“Consider the Voss protected and the favour repaid,” you reply bluntly. “Your brother thinks that the threat has been dealt with and wants us both gone. You can either come with me or spend the rest of your life here, respected by no one and treated like a joke.”
“You were meant to be a god,” he mutters in a bitter tone. “You were meant to save the Voss from the Soulless an' I was goin' to be praised as yer prophet. How did it all go sour?” With a forlorn sigh, he eventually reaches a decision. “I'm comin' with you. I know Blayz, he wouldn't take what I did lyin' down. He'd get rid o' me, one way or another.”
You let Jurvaz collect his things, a variety of tools and trinkets that he considered either useful or valuable. Once he is prepared, the two of you take the week's worth of rations that Blayz had promised you and leave the slumbering valley of the Voss behind. From here on out, they can fend for themselves.
