Landlord in the Arctic

Chapter 267 - 232: The Tribe

What they called a runway was, frankly, just a pockmarked dirt road.

It looked as if it hadn’t been maintained in ages. The road surface was riddled with potholes of all sizes and rocks jutting out in places, a stark contrast to the flat, smooth runway in Crown Territory.

Fortunately, they were flying the Carnation this time. A P750 would never have been able to land here.

The Carnation was a bush plane, and its primary design purpose was to operate and land safely in all kinds of complex and adverse terrain conditions.

It could execute perfect takeoffs and landings, whether among towering mountains, across vast deserts, or, like now, on a pitted dirt road in a remote forest.

At that moment, Feng Mountain carefully guided the Carnation, slowly approaching the pitted runway.

He pushed the control stick gently, meticulously adjusting the plane’s altitude, speed, and attitude, trying to line the Carnation up for a perfect approach.

As its wide tires made contact with the pitted ground, the entire plane bounced violently a few times before beginning to stabilize.

The tires continued to roll over the pitted ground, making a RUMBLING, JARRING sound, and finally came to a stop in a cloud of billowing dust.

As the two of them jumped down from the cabin, a few children in ragged clothes emerged from the woods beside the runway. Their clothes were covered in stains, clearly having been worn for a long time, but that did nothing to dim the curious sparkle in their eyes.

They walked out of the woods cautiously, their eyes fixed primarily on Nash.

Their gazes lingered for a long time, especially on his facial tattoos.

Nash called out to the children in the language of his tribe.

The next moment, the children rushed out of the woods, surrounding Nash in an instant and chattering nonstop.

Surrounded by the children, the detached expression on Nash’s face gradually softened.

He bent down slightly, patiently answering the children’s questions. His eyes were full of gentleness, and he reached out to gently pat a few of them on the head.

Feng Mountain couldn’t help but stare for a moment, slightly taken aback.

He had always thought Nash was the aloof, detached type; he never expected him to reveal such a warm side when interacting with the children of his home village.

But this wasn’t the time for idle observation. After watching for another moment, Feng Mountain urged Nash to hurry and see his father.

As they passed through the forest, the children’s cheerful voices, like the crisp chirping of birds, echoed through the quiet tribal village.

Before long, their procession drew some of the tribe’s women out from the wooden huts scattered through the forest and along the riverbank.

Some of the women were holding toddlers, others still had weaving in their hands. They wore faint expressions of sorrow, curious to see what was causing the children to be so excited and noisy.

When Nash appeared before them, joyous smiles instantly bloomed on the women’s faces—the joy of seeing someone they had not seen in a very long time.

However, that joy remained on their faces for only a moment before sorrow took its place, as if a dark cloud had suddenly cast its shadow over the crowd.

The women of the tribe surrounded Nash, all talking at once. They spoke rapidly, the Athabasca language pouring from their mouths like a flowing stream.

To Feng Mountain, it was like listening to a celestial script; he couldn’t understand a single word. He could only sense that something was very wrong from the crowd’s increasingly solemn expressions and Nash’s ever-more-serious face.

Nash’s expression grew increasingly grim, his brow furrowed tightly, his eyes revealing a deep worry.

Finally, unable to suppress his anxiety any longer, he abruptly broke through the surrounding women and took off running in one direction, his steps hurried and frantic.

Seeing this, Feng Mountain’s heart clenched, and he immediately ran after Nash without a second thought.

One running after the other, they sped past the cluster of wooden huts.

Soon, they came to a spacious clearing.

The clearing seemed like a tranquil place carved out by nature itself, tightly encircled by the dense forest, which formed a natural green barrier that isolated it from the outside world.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the branches and leaves, casting dappled light and shadows that speckled the grass, adding a dreamlike quality to the scene.

In the center of the clearing, several Totem Poles carved from tree trunks stood tall.

The Totem Poles were weather-beaten, their mottled wood grain seeming to tell the long stories of ages past.

A group of tribe members stood beneath the Totem Poles, performing a ceremony.

The people in the group were all dressed in brightly colored coats made of animal hide. The hides were vibrant and still retained some of the animals’ original markings, making each coat look like a one-of-a-kind work of art.

The feathered headdresses they wore were even more stunning, with feathers of all colors skillfully interwoven to create magnificent and colorful patterns.

These tribe members were dancing around the Totem Poles, waving their hands and stamping their feet.

In the center of the ring of Totem Poles lay a flat stone. An Indigenous Person, also dressed in traditional attire, was lying silently upon it. Several men and women stood to one side, their heads bowed as they wept.

"Ch’itã!" Nash screamed out the word for father, his voice thick with anguish and grief.

With that cry, he threw himself recklessly toward the stone slab.

The tribe members performing the ceremony were startled by the sudden cry. They paused for a moment, then stopped their movements one after another.

At the same time, the family members who had been weeping with bowed heads beside the stone jerked their heads up.

They hadn’t expected Nash to make it back to the tribe.

The surrounding tribe members helped a woman to her feet.

The woman clutched her chest tightly with one hand, enduring an unspeakable pain. Her other arm was held steady by another tribe member, the support barely enough to keep her on her feet.

She looked toward the frantically running Nash, her lips trembling. She tried to say something, but her words were choked off by sobs.