Quoted By:
Of course, how can the goatmen live and prosper, if not by reaching the sky? The flood will sweep all, but not the sky!
As Fjoldmrir comes to this realization, he also realizes he is lying on the ground, blood pooling at the back of his head. He hears shouts from other goatmen, running to him as they lift him up and bring to a nearby bench. Someone rips their clothing up to bandage Fjoldmrirs head, before most of the goatmen return to work.
Fjoldmrir remains on the bench, thinking and ruminating on what this holy message means.
Surely, the shrine must reach the sky for the benefit of all. But how can the shrine ever reach that high, when the number of workers is so low?
Fjoldmrir turns his head and looks to the spot where he injured himself. On the ground, the rock he was carrying is drenched in blood, baking in the sun. Around it, a pool of more blood. A price for such an important revelation, no doubt worth it.
After recovering for another couple hours, the sky turns darker. Night is upon Rams’ Horn. Fjoldmrir gets up, and heads to the fruit trees for some food.
Unfortunately, the trees have been plucked dry for fruit. Most fruit have been eaten at this point of the day, if he is to fill his belly, he must head further out from goatmen territory, for fruits with less taste or even non-fruit food. Fjoldmrir shudders at the thought.
As Fjoldmrir gives the tree one last look over for leftovers, he is approached by Homlerm and Armlormr.
Armlormr, carrying a basket with fruit, offers some to Fjoldmrir as he munches on a fruit himself.
“I heard you fell. You look like a mess. Eat, and get well.”
Homlerm seems to be carrying cloth with some kind of powder in it.
“I made some medicine for you Fjoldmrir. Breath this in, and then I will bind the cloth around your wound.”
1/2
