Slowly, warm yellow light creeping through the gaps of the brunjung roof shone upon the tip of Solor's nose, who was lying flat on his back atop the roof tiles.
The cold morning air seeped into his skin, awakening him from his sleep. "Ha..." Glancing around blankly, a fleeting memory of last night's events crossed his mind, causing him to lean his back once again against the mossy roof tiles.
His eyes gazed up at the yellow sky slowly turning blue. A few clouds began to drift lazily.
"Panandha..."
He muttered, his eyes fixed on the sky while his mind remained a cluttered mess.
Solor turned onto his side, turning his back to the rising sun as its rays slowly warmed his back. The fingernail of his index finger scraped the moss on the roof tile surface.
"Wus Wus... I want to get down, but I feel ashamed..."
"I feel bad facing the villagers here..." He babbled to himself, imagining he was engaging in telepathy with his horse.
Before long, Solor heard the rhythmic sweeping of a palm-frond broom across the yard. Moments later, a slightly plump older woman wearing a lurik kemben—her hair tied in a round bun at the back of her head—looked up towards the roof, craning her neck nervously. When her eyes caught sight of a strange figure lying on the roof tiles, her eyes instantly widened.
"Oh... what is that over there...?"
Her round face tilted up in curiosity. A small mole below the side of her lip was clearly visible as she kept staring at Solor lying on the roof tiles.
Instantly, Solor sat up and stood to face her.
"Oh... who are you...?" The woman walked closer down below, shaking her head several times, still bewildered to see someone lying on the roof tiles.
"Why do you look like Solor?" the woman said, still gazing up.
"Don't bother me! I must get out of this village as fast as possible!" Solor said as he walked across the roof tiles toward a tree to climb down.
"Oh... right, you are Solor the Kroto Ndomble..."
Solor ignored her voice, busy climbing down the tree.
The woman approached Solor. Her legs wrapped in a jarik skirt forced her steps to be short and slow as she carried the broom.
"Hold on, you really are Solor, aren't you?" the woman asked, stepping closer as she saw him coming down the tree.
"No... It's not me..." Solor replied as he leaped to a branch, then jumped again until both feet landed on the ground.
"No way..." The woman observed Solor's features, growing convinced that it truly was Solor.
"Yes... You are Solor the Kroto Ndomble! I remember when you won the Contest last year!" she said while hugging the handle of her broom, facing Solor with an expression that was a mix of a smile and confusion.
"So what?" Solor asked, standing with his eyes fixed on the ground.
"Did you see the commotion last night or not?" She waddled closer toward Solor. "...Why were you sleeping on top of the roof instead? The whole village is in an uproar."
The woman stopped beside him until she stood right next to him. She glanced down at Solor while holding the broom handle in the middle, resting it against her stomach.
"Hold on... they say you're the swamp guardian, so how come you're here?" The woman paused. She turned her body around so she stood directly facing down at Solor. Her thick, wide lips parted broadly, pushing up her chubby cheeks until they almost sagged as she continued, "What are you actually guarding? The swamp or the local villagers?"
Solor remained silent. Deep down, he knew this woman was a chatterbox. He stepped forward again before more people could recognize him.
"Hold on, Brother Solor, what's wrong with you? You couldn't even become the Crescent Wanderer, and then you couldn't even save the person who saved the entire village, yet you want to be called the swamp guardian? Is that fitting...?"
"Shut up!" Solor snapped without looking back. He stared straight at the road ahead, yet the woman kept following him.
"Hold on, Brother Solor, have breakfast first..."
Solor quickened his pace, letting the woman's words fade into the distance behind him.
"Well... don't be angry, Brother... I'm only saying what's true, why get angry..."
In the morning light, Solor walked past several people who seemed busy repairing, cleaning, and taking care of their buildings. A few Alliance men were still wandering around the area.
"Are you Solor?" An old ceramic merchant in a black beskap decorated with gold-polished beads straightened his back after tidying up his wares at his shop as Solor walked by.
Solor paid no mind. He kept walking past him toward the place where his horse was tethered.
"Great men rarely spare a glance for the small folk."
Solor looked back without breaking his stride. The merchant lowered his head again, as if wiping down some of his trade goods.
When Solor ignored him, the merchant raised his head once more.
"Oh... no wonder he failed to become the Crescent Wanderer. Just look at his attitude toward people."
The merchant's voice gradually faded behind Solor's back, yet every word continued to echo inside his head.
Up ahead, a few villagers appeared to be gathered, chatting amongst themselves.
Before more people could recognize him, Solor quickly turned down a side path. However, the route he chose led straight toward an even busier area.
He observed for a moment; it turned out the villagers were doing communal work, clearing building debris and fallen trees.
"Look... that's him!" A man pointed at Solor from a distance.
"Oh... yes, that's Solor the Kroto Ndomble!" someone else called out.
"Come over here... we have coffee!" another shouted, walking toward him.
Someone shouted from behind the group, "Hey, try telling him to lift that tree!"
Someone retorted, "Haha... don't. The tree will end up lifting him instead."
"Haha... can a person that small really save anyone?" one of them yelled. "It's just like the proverb says: a dwarf reaching for the stars..."
The taunt was met with another, "Haha, can he manage it?"
Solor knew for sure he was being mocked. He placed his hands on his hips, spreading his legs slightly apart. Standing small, Solor faced the crowd of villagers, then raised his right hand, pointing to the cliff above, "AFTERSHOCK LANDSLIDE!!"
Instantly, almost all the villagers turned to look at the cliff. Others were still laughing. Realizing Solor was lying, they burst into even louder laughter as they watched Solor sprint right past them in a ridiculous manner.
"What a Kroto Ndomble!"
Solor came to a halt as four young men were gathering near the place where his horse was tethered.
"Do they know that's my horse?" He hid his body behind the wall of a collapsed building.
"Hey... Sir,"
Solor gasped in surprise. Behind his hiding spot, two youths carrying a tool chest—one holding a crowbar—had stopped in their tracks.
"Are you hiding?"
Both youths wore udeng headbands and vests, though one was slightly darker in color.
"I'm keeping an eye on my horse."
The youth was tall, forcing Solor to look up slightly.
"Are you a local here? Why aren't you helping with the communal work?" added the youth holding the crowbar.
"I'm not from around here, kid..." Solor's words were cut short. He stepped out of the alley between the collapsed houses and headed toward his horse's tethering post.
Without continuing the conversation, the two youths walked out of the alley of ruined houses in the opposite direction of Solor.
SQUISH! Accidentally, the sole of his sandal stepped on a piece of a termite nest that had broken away from the house debris.
"Oh dear..."
He lifted his foot while keeping his balance.
"Ah..." His fingers picked up a termite crushed flat underfoot, then picked up the broken piece of the termite mound to place it back in its original spot near the collapsed building.
He walked quickly with his palm facing up, carrying the flattened dead termite.
Solor arrived at his horse's tethering spot. He felt slightly relieved; a few youths in front of him were feeding his horse.
"Hey, thank you for feeding my horse..."
His small feet walked toward a grassy plot of land, where he crouched down. With one hand, he scooped out the soil.
Behind him, four young men were busy repairing a food stall. Solor's sudden arrival and stopping at the grassy plot beside the building made them feel odd and curious.
"What are you doing?" A voice sounded behind Solor's back as he was burying the termite.
He stood up, putting on a relieved look once more.
"I'm here to fetch my horse." Solor walked closer.
"Oh, is this your horse?" asked a shirtless youth in his twenties, holding a hoe.
"Yes..." Solor's hand untied the tether secured to a tree beside the stall building.
"It seems you've come from far away, or are you a wanderer?" the youth asked again as he stepped closer to Solor.
Before he could answer, several men stopped running, followed by a few children. The men pointed toward Solor.
"There he is..." "Hey... yes, that's the guy..." Another person approached the man pointing at Solor. "That's right, it's Solor the Kroto Ndomble..."
"Oh... yes, he's here..." The man walked toward Solor, so much so that several children trailed behind him, giggling.
"You're Solor, aren't you? Didn't you know about the clash last night in the village square?" "Are you actually with the Alliance or not? Why didn't you tell the Alliance higher-ups last night to lighten Randu's sentence?"
The man looked like a soldier in uniform, though he was advanced in years. "That young man named Randu saved this village—everyone in it..." He took another step closer. His gaze was serious, fixed on Solor, who was adjusting his horse's saddle. "He was willing to use a relic to ward off the landslide that was about to bury this entire village..."
Solor looked back, his face tilted slightly upward to meet the middle-aged man's gaze. "I know... but the law still deems it a violation."
Another man who had just stepped up shoved Solor's shoulder, causing his body to stagger back a step. "Tell the Alliance this: if that law isn't changed, just you wait. All the villagers here have agreed to demand a change!"
Solor remained silent. His eyes remained fixed on the men with hair tied in topknots—they appeared to be village guards.
One of the youths who had been repairing the food stall stepped forward. "So you're Solor, the guardian of Nawijem Swamp?" One of the men in a batik uniform who had just arrived stepped closer to the youth. "He even won the Seven-Year Contest back then..." someone else chimed in.
"Really...?" replied the shirtless youth.
"Forget about helping Randu—he was sleeping on the roof instead!" The voice called out from the crowd of men, all staring at Solor as he prepared to hurry off.
Solor felt truly ashamed now. He wanted to cry, but no tears would come.
"LANDSLIDEE...!" A few people instinctively turned in the direction Solor pointed.
Swiftly, Solor swung himself onto the saddle, then spurred his horse toward the village gate.