The tribes didn't build walls around their camps. They moved so often that it would have been days of extra, wasted work and would have hindered their flight if someone did attack a camp.
And most of the time it worked, the tribes were so intuned with the prairie that it was nearly impossible to sneak up on them and launch any kind of surprise attack. The Camelia and the Crimson Army had tried many times over the long course of the conflict, but never succeeded, and commanders of the last few generations had even started being instructed not to even try, since it was so easy for the situation to turn on them.
Chenzhou's father had written a long journal entry detailing his rage at a commander who had ignored those teachings and walked his men into a deadly ambush while trying to surprise one of the central tribes. The battle had cost the Camelia several of that generation's great heroes as they'd sacrificed themselves to hold off the tribes and let the majority of their comrades escape in what had come to be called the Fall of Heroes.
It had been a devastating loss that Chenzhou's father had taken out on the commander, stripping him of his command and titles and imprisoning him for a year.
He had no idea what had happened to the man after that, but Chenzhou assumed he'd left the Camelia in disgrace after serving his time. It had all taken place years before Chenzhou was born, and he'd only learned of it by reading his father's journals.
The Bandri camp sprawled for miles across the prairie. Animal pens lined the outskirts, sheep, goats, and horses. The cows grazed slightly further out, rarely penned since they didn't wander off unless it was in search of food.
Chenzhou had smelled the camp a few miles back, the mixture of animal and human waste, smoke, and the incense they made from dried and ground flowers. The detritus from everyday life appeared as he walked closer: half-stripped carcasses, piles of unusable scraps, wet patches from dirty water, and bones tossed away and aged white in the sun. The nomadic life didn't lend itself to the standards of cleanliness Sorrow or Song and Snow prescribed to. Although, in all fairness, only the wealthy and the middle class in the cities really did. Chenzhou doubted the poor were willing to waste water on washing once a day.
The only exception was the army, because good hygiene prevented diseases that did more damage to army numbers than the enemy usually did.
The nearest tents were empty and small, family living spaces. Chenzhou realized and started to make his way around the edges. While the camps were often laid out haphazardly, they always had one main entrance that was right next to their leader's living area and an open space that generally functioned as a meeting place.
That was where they would hold Beng Shai's funeral ceremony.
Travelers who approached the main entrance generally got a moment to plead their case before being cut down.
Those who were found trying to enter the camp from anywhere else were usually assumed to be enemies and didn't get a chance to argue otherwise. For all their issues, the tribes took the protection of their children seriously.
It took nearly half an hour to walk the perimeter of the camp and find the entrance, and Chenzhou argued with himself the entire way. Not about what he was doing, he still didn't regret that because the driving urge to protect Yuze, Eirian, Mingzhe, and the Camelia was still thundering through his blood, but he kept second-guessing what he was going to say.
Was it better to be forward? To apologize and take all the blame?
Or to treat it more like a negotiation? Both sides held blame; Chenzhou had killed Beng Shai, but the tribes had started this war with the ambush on Mingzhe's forces.
He was making no secret of himself as he walked, and while the morning light was still extremely, oddly weak for the hour, he was still visible to those on the edges of the camp. No one approached him, but Chenzhou felt the eyes that started to follow him, could almost catch the whispers on the wind.
The smell of smoke grew stronger with the wind as he approached the main entrance. The small family tents became scarcer, giving way to larger tents that stored food, weapons, and basic supplies that could be doled out by the tribal leader when needed.
The smell of cooked meat joined the rest of the mix. The tribes tended to feast at every excuse, and food was an important part of their funeral practices. The smell made his stomach growl. He hadn't been able to bring himself to eat once he'd heard about Yuze, and he knew he'd soon start feeling weak from hunger.
Eirian would be furious.
More than she probably already was.
After she'd gone through the trouble of healing him, she hated it when he didn't take care of himself, and she was right. Chenzhou had gotten a second chance; wasting it was foolish.
The main entrance came out of nowhere. There was no gate or banner, simply a larger-than-normal empty space between, and a small, but growing crowd of people staring at him as he stopped in the center, just outside the invisible boundary.
The crowd grew as both sides stared at you, and Chenzhou picked out the voice of a small child telling someone 'I told you so! I told you I saw him!'
Chenzhou was probably a scary story to their children. A monster hiding in the shadows. Which made him sad. He didn't want to scare children. He thought of Brendan, safely back at the Camelia and growing up happy and safe until Chenzhou and Eirian would have to show him the reality of the world.
Maybe he'd just keep him safe in the estate his entire life? There were plenty of people; he could make friends, have adventures, and fall in love without ever having to leave and see the ugly parts of the world.
Shield him from ever having to take a life and having to carry that weight.
~ tbc