The tribe had indeed departed without him.
He caught up with them at the stream's crossing, further down the plain. By then evening had come, though the sun still lingered.
The tribe, burdened by their heavy load, stretched far with only a couple warriors at the back to keep that trail from growing further. They too carried bags on their back along with their weapons. To kobels they looked strong; easy preys to anyone else.
When that lizard hailed them, a kobel half-covered in smooth scales, they nearly panicked.
And when he told them his name, all excited, nobody would believe him. The Tunu they knew was some two heads shorter, weak and annoying. This kobel was a force of nature, radiating strength and beauty.
There was no lack of awe nor envy.
As they crowded around him, asking what had happened or who he really was, the news of his arrival spread like wildfire. Kobels ahead saw people behind them turn back, asked why, heard about this impossible sight and went to see.
Everyone was returning to the stream.
They all wanted to hear this mighty kobel's story but Tunu had nothing to say. He had spent the whole rush back to the tribe thinking of what he would say, of lies even, to find not a single word that would satisfy even him.
He himself was still shocked at his own physique. A lot of his hideous fur remained, but he could slide his finger from the shoulder to the wrist and almost only feel the smooth, hard surface of a true lizard. At the head, at the shoulders, they even dented a bit.
Everyone wanted to touch those as well. The warriors, impressed, the males in disbelief. The females as well.
The youngest were arriving, running freely to swarm his feet and press around his legs. They were trying to climb on him, void of restraint, so the others had to pull them away. With this the circle had opened a little, letting him breathe.
Tunu realized he was surrounded by his peers, half of the tribe or more already pressing to get a glimpse of him, barking questions with even a bit of anger.
"Make way! Make way!"
Their shaman, Lutuk, was pushing to get through. Behind him followed the tribe's chief with a wary look. But Lutuk was already chasing the kobels off with his staff.
"Give us space you buzzards! Show some respect!"
The crowd glared at him, the kids especially who hated him. Still they obeyed, fell back before that scolding staff and watched the shaman rush all around with temper. The tribe's champion, Tuorka, had shown in turn and this did more to calm everyone.
Tunu watched the chief approach him.
"Tunu, is that right?" He asked him.
"Y... yes!"
In looks alone the scaled kobel had that chief beat. They shared the same height but he had more muscles and of course this reptilian gift.
In his mind, however, Tunu was still just a passionate child, humbled in front of the one who had led them since he was born.
"I think I recognize your face." That kobel studied him from up close. "How did you get those scales?"
"I went to the hill, I found its lair..."
"Its?"
"The wyvern! I found where it lived and went there and I... killed it."
The moment he uttered those words they sounded absurd even for him. Especially for him. Rumors around expressed the same feeling. And the chief's next question only made it worse.
"How?"
He didn't know. That had been the one thing Tunu had refused to even think about since he had got up in that cave. Any time the question came his heart only beat harder in a fit of panic. Because he could not see how.
There was no way.
Part of him was still stuck in that fleeting moment when the beast's claws had fell on him, suspended in memory, so fast that he had lost consciousness before he saw them rip.
But the chief turned and addressed the whole crowd.
"His scales speak for him! There is no denying his feat! Let us rejoice, today a legend is born! A feast! We will feast and cover him in gifts! Hail Tunu, the new Tusali!"
"Glory to Tunu!" The warrior Tuorka answered in turn.
It was so sudden, but slowly at first, then in a wave, then a chorus, all the kobels chanted his name with a newfound fervor.
It finally became real.
Until then, Tunu had floated, moving, thinking, stuck in a dream. Not believing sight nor reason. Their chant shattered that barrier. It became real and Tunu realized where he was, what he was and just the strength in his limbs.
The tribe was galvanized.
They had so far been so taken aback that few had even put down their baggage. Now they rushed to set the tents back up, to lit fires and bring all the meat they had, all the fruits, all the herbs, to cook all they could and bring dance and music.
Above all they were brewing alcohol that flowed in bowls until deep in the night.
They all dreamed and said, if the little weakling among them had done it then they too would one day, one day get their scales.
He was watching the kids chase each other, flapping their capes and the adults encouraging them. It had been hours and people around him, between praises, had made up the story of how he had collapsed the cave on the beast to vanquish it.
They had brought him pelts to wear, only to quarrel over the crime of hiding his looks. And Tunu, who had always wanted to wear a warrior's clothes, felt bad for putting one on him.
They were drinking and drinking, holding wooden plates before him. Dancers in front of the wild flames offered their best spectacle.
But then the crowd went silent. He turned to see a few warriors, Tuorka leading them, holding torches and on their free shoulders the massive skull of the beast. Even in death it still brought terror to the kobels' hearts.
"Raise it!" The chief ordered.
They brought ropes, they dragged it to a tree and lifted it up until the whole tribe could see that trophy.
At that sight the crowd chanted Tunu's name.
They wanted for him to speak but once more he shied away and it was their chief who spoke for him.
"Are we not tired of fleeing?!"
"Yes!"
"Are we not tired of hunger and poverty?!"
"Yes!"
"Aren't we children of the wyverns?!"
"Yes!" An extatic crowd screamed.
"Let us reclaim our glory! We will be rich, we will be feared, tonight we shed our shame and trade it for the hearts of true beasts! We will prove worthy of the legend amongst our midst!"
"Tunu! Tunu! Tunu!"
The chief's next words were drowned by their chant but he didn't care, kept yelling with a frenzy.
"Feeble no more! Let's pillage! Let's vanquish! Kill! Kill and claim your blood!"
Tunu, drunk and exhausted, had drifted away from it all. Dozens trailed him, still seeking his sight, his company. The urge to touch his scales had not abided.
"Let me bathe you." One was asking.
"Yes! You must bathe and we will scrub your back!"
"Please!" He begged.
The scaled kobel got them to step back and let him breathe. He had not tired from their adulation, far from it, but truly felt sleepy.
"Come to my tent!" A bold one offered. "I even have cushions!"
That shameless spectacle was but routine for a species robbed from its pride. Around him they felt alive, it was that simple. There was no greater beauty than his scales in the entire camp.
A bit dazed, a bit lost, torn in so many directions Tunu looked around for an escape and found a familiar sight.
"Elua!"
This word from him, all alone, was enough to part from the crowd.
The young kobel, her jade stones shining under the camp's torches, shied away at his approach. She could not look him in the eyes.
He stopped short of her, just as embarrassed. In his mind he was still the childish kobel she barely paid any mind to. But right now, because she was not pressing him like the others, he desired her presence.
"Eh." He started, all timid. "Sorry I let you carry the water for me."
"Ah! Oh." She didn't know where to put herself. "It's okay. Sorry I didn't listen to you."
"Really?"
He had got excited, because it was the first time someone said sorry to him, but remembered that he was a glorious hero now.
"I mean, it's fine. Eh, I'm tired, mind if we go talk elsewhere?"
"Yes."
Without even thinking, she led him to her tent. It had been her family's but now, it was just her. Everyone looked at them enter with enough jealousy to burn the plain.
But once inside Tunu looked at the mat and, through his drunken state, just went to lay on it. He was closing his eyes already.
She sat nearby, a stranger in her own home.
His sight intimidated her.
"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I have no pelt, I..."
"It's all I need." He muttered in turn. "I used to sleep on leaves."
"How does it feel... to have scales?"
Tunu opened an eye. It's not that nobody had asked yet; they had many times; it was how he too now wondered if that bed felt so great because of his new body.
Or if her presence somehow warmed the place.
"You too will get scales." He promised in his drunk stupor. "You will all have scales and then you can tell me. You can tell me how it feels."
"I'm never..." She started, but went silent.
Her fingers had reflexively rubbed the jade plates on her shoulder. Suddenly his words rang true. His words were not those of a drunkyard anymore.
She approached her hand to touch his arm, rub those mythic scales. That impossible promise. Then she slipped her fingers into his and came closer.