Tweek felt the breeze hit his skin, and with it, it carried different smells that let him know he was close to his destination. Part of his role, his job in his tribe, was being the lookout. He could take pride in that achievement at least, that he was fast and good at tracking. The sharp lines across his skin signified not brute strength.
It still didn’t necessarily help his self confidence though. Their tribe never needed a lookout before him, and they were known for retaliation only when it presented to them. They were well enough to defend themselves, so a lookout, truly wasn’t necessary. Which makes Tweek always question and wonder; too much for his own good and causes a churning in his stomach that makes his head spin.
Was he only given this role because it’s all he could do? He rolls down on the balls of his feet, and pushes off, landing on the thick hanging branches of the next tree. The bark scrapes at skin covered in calluses.
Tweek goes to the same place as he does everyday, to the outskirts of their forest. Watching, and waiting. In the midst of this, his knife hangs low on his hip and his bow and quiver are perched on his back. They are needed in case of defense of course, but also while scouting, he hunts for creatures along the edge, usually rabbits or rodents.
The sun has yet to push past the mountains, but its outreaching rays are cutting through the purples and browns of the fading night and quick. Tweek’s just on time.
He knows how merchants look. Extremely large wagons drawn by horses covered in satchels, or peddlers with big sacks on their back. Tweek was told to ignore these people, they only wish to seek a safe passage to their neighboring areas and they mean no harm.
That’s all Tweek has ever seen though. What does a person who means harm look like?
Tweek begins to lower himself on a familiar branch to watch the flickers of the silhouettes in the distance, to watch the clouds as they twist and form. There is movement though, on the edge of his vision which causes his eyes to trail far below. There, the walked path has turned into trotted dead grass leads to where the trees part.
If different is what his elders were going off of when they meant someone who means harm, there’s someone approaching as dawn breaks. Sullen eyes see blue and brown, and the flutter of clothing with the wind. No wagons, no backpacks. Someone who is walking slow.
It makes goosebumps raise along Tweek’s skin, and his hand reaches for the knife behind him, but it hovers before making a grip for the handle. Oh no, oh no, he’s attacked people before in his anxious and nervous state, and it ended in disaster. This time, he sucks in shaky breathes and follows just out of vision.
