They were huddled together in groups, scattered across the stone and rock like misplaced nothings. There weren’t many of them left. There were four from Tanzin’s tribe, seven from Gazan’s, six from Ario’s and four from Aria’s – their numbers had shrunken greatly since all of this began.

Gazan sat staring out over the land beneath, at the world they’d left behind in favor of a safer life. In his hands he held the circlet his tribe had made for him when his mother died. It wasn’t anything pretty or beautiful – it was actually rather crude and one of the uglier circlet’s he’d seen in his life, but that was okay. There had been a shortage of both resources and time when it’d been made. He was surprised they’d made him a circlet at all, especially since they weren’t the handiest lot. When it’s uncertain if you’ll live another day you usually don’t take the time to make pointless things.

With a sigh he placed the twined twigs down on his leg, pulling his hand through his hair. It was a wonder he’d been able to survive this long – truthfully, it was only because of his tribe and his mother. Oh, his mother – the wonderful, kind yeti that had risked her life to save his. She shouldn’t have done it; she’d be far more equipped for this situation than he.

There was a noise behind him and he startled, jumping to his feet and spinning around, vivid fear in his heart. If there were humans up here that meant the end for all of them – oh, and here they’d thought they were safe –

Tanzin stood behind him, leaning heavily on their staff. “Apologies,” they said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Gazan relaxed, bending to pick up his fallen circlet before he’d accidentally step on it. “It’s… it’s fine,” he said, eyes downcast. Tanzin was the oldest of the four tribe leaders – compared to him, who were a leader seedling, they were a full-grown oak tree.

They looked at him with heavy, knowing eyes, but didn’t comment on the obvious lie. “Your presence is required,” they said, nodding their head towards the ice cave they tribes had found while inspecting the area. How they managed to move their head at all was lost on him; the knot of braids on their head only seemed to grow every day. With how many yetis they’d lost, that wasn’t unlikely at all. “The leaders are meeting to discuss our future.”

‘I’m not a leader,’ he wanted to say. He wanted to just let the experienced ones handle this – let them do what they knew how to do, instead of mixing him into it. “Alright,” he said, carefully placing the circlet onto his head. “Right now?”

Tanzin inclined their head, then turned around and began to walk away. Gazan followed, looking at all the yetis he passed to reassure the still throbbing fear that they were all alright. They were all tired and worn, caring for each other gently. But there was a flare of hope in them, now – despite all they’d lost and all they’d done they could still see light in the darkness.

It was nice to see that someone still could, when the hope that’d once curled within him had died long ago.

Inside the ice cave Aria and Ario had already arrived, sitting close beside each other. It had been a joy for everyone when they were reunited. Aria had left her twin behind to get married, and they hadn’t seen each other since this nightmare began. When their tribes stumbled upon each other by accident there were tears all around.

They looked up when he arrived, Aria with the necklace of her tribe’s rules around her neck, Ario with all her braids except for the leader ones pulled out of her fur.

It really was a meeting between leaders, then.

“Sit,” Tanzin said, gesturing for Gazan to do so. He did, swallowing thickly as he gathered his legs beneath him. They mirrored his actions, one hand on their head to steady the tons of braids. It tightened around his heart to see them wobble as Tanzin moved. Hopefully, one day, a yeti leader would have no need for braids at all. “It has taken us long to get here,” Tanzin said, looking at all three of them in turn, slowly lowering their hand into their lap. “And it will take us even longer to heal. I know that I won’t see it in my lifetime.”

Aria nodded solemnly. Gazan curled his fingers around the fur on his knees, biting his tongue to keep from making any noises. He knew it was true, but oh, how it hurt.

“We need to know where we’re going from here,” Tanzin continued. “Which path we’re going down.”

“We’ll need to build homes,” Ario said. In the faint light her eyes almost looked black, but the intense love that flickered in them was as fierce as ever. “My wife will soon give birth, and Aly has a newborn son.”

Aria agreed to this. “Do you still remember the caves from home?” she asked. “They were well-made – sturdy – but of a simple design.” A moment’s pause, and then Ario nodded. “Could you remake them?”

Ario closed her eyes, tugging at the fur around her horns. “I… with some help, yes. Shelter should be no problem if we’re given time – until we can make something, I suppose this cave will suffice.”

The four of them looked around the cave, and Gazan realized with a hollow pain that it was far from big enough. “It can’t host twenty yetis at the same time,” he said. The others turned curious gazes on him, and he grew self-conscious under their weight. “I mean – of course we have to put aside absolute privacy in favor of shelter, but – there’s not enough space for more than maybe ten yetis to live even remotely comfortably here.” He took another look around, tapping his chest as he thought. “I think we could fit maybe fifteen, but they’d need to sleep on top of each other during night, and that’s not good for health. Plus we’d run out of air very fast.”

Silence rung. “…thank you, Gazan,” Tanzin said solemnly. “Ario, how fast will you be able to have plans ready?”

She shook her head. “A week at the earliest.”

Tanzin nodded thoughtfully. “The eldest, youngest, and most vulnerable will have to sleep in here. The rest of us will have to do.”

Gazan closed his eyes against the wave of pain. The fact that Tanzin no longer counted themselves as eldest, simply because there were others in need…

He forced his eyes open again, and his gaze landed on Aria –

and on the stone slabs hanging around her neck.

Her rules.

“We need rules,” he blurted. When he was once more weighed beneath the gazes of the leaders he fiddled nervously with his fur. “I – I mean – to ensure our own safety. To make sure that no one goes below the mountain or endanger us in any way. Humans can’t know we’re here, or all is lost. People need to know what we’re running away from.”

The others exchanged glances. Ario was the first to nod, and the others soon followed her example. “We need a leader, too,” she said, looking between the two others before her gaze settled on him again. “Someone who makes sure the rules are followed – someone who can protect us.”

“A keeper of the stones, if you will,” Aria added. “Ensuring their – and our – safety.”

Both she and Ario turned expectant eyes to him, Tanzin chuckling quietly to themselves.

Why were they –

oh.

“Wh – me?” he asked, pointing to his own chest. Atop his head his circlet suddenly grew ten times heavier. “I’m no leader.”

“The circlet on your brow speaks another story,” Tanzin said, pointing their staff at his head. “This is a meeting between leaders, is it not?”

Gazan looked at Aria and Ario, desperate for them to agree with him. He wasn’t cut out to be a leader – that had been his mother, not him –

Aria slowly – carefully – removed her necklace. She then stood up and walked over to him, gently looping it around his neck. “There,” she said, patting his cheek. “The first rules are made, set in stone.”

“Hm,” Tanzin said, considering their staff. “I suppose you will need a walking stick for your elderly days.” They staggered to their feet and thrusted their staff – their leader staff, which had been passed from leader to leader in generations – into his chest.

Opposite of him Ario carefully untangled her leader braids from her fur. “Time to braid your hair, young one. For the lives lost – and for the lives to come.”

Gazan gaped at them, stones surprisingly right against his chest and staff in hand, his twig circlet on top of his head. “I…” he whispered, glancing from one determined yeti to another. “I can’t do this alone…”

“Which is why we’ll be your advisors,” Ario said, offering him a gentle smile. “You’re never alone when you’re a tribe leader, Gazan. I don’t see why that should be different for a Stonekeeper.”

He stared at them, heart swelling in his chest, greater and greater until it was on the verge of bursting, until it hurt, ribs digging into his heart and his lungs, too.

And Gazan, the first Stonekeeper in a long line to come nodded. “Alright,” he said. He would make his mother proud; she never backed away from a challenge, so he wouldn’t either. “Tell me what to do.”