Becoming a man had been harder in my grandfather’s youth, or so he delighted in telling me. The Sacred Forest was wild and overgrown. A boy needed to battle dangerous beasts, avoid poisonous plants, ascend the Ancestor Stone and carve off a piece to present to the tribe.
Only then would he become a man.
Now, the path was well trodden, the beasts tame, the flora dying. My forefathers had braved a treacherous journey so that mine would be safe.
I was grateful.
Until I came to the centre of the forest.
There was no Ancestor Stone left to carve.
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