As I stepped out of the teepee, the crisp morning air enveloped me, invigorating my senses with its cool touch. A symphony of sounds played in the background—voices of villagers mingling with the distant clanging of tools, creating an atmosphere brimming with life. My gaze drifted toward the packhouse, a sturdy structure where pack members toiled relentlessly, shadows of exhaustion etched into their faces. The overseer loomed over them, a harsh taskmaster with an unforgiving demeanor, and I felt a sharp pang of sympathy for those weary workers, their brows slick with sweat, their bodies moving through the monotonous grind of labor.
As I navigated the winding paths of the tent village, the air thick with anticipation, I sensed the weight of curious stares following me, their gazes piercing
