The Americans cannot have sprung from a single nation, because independently of the languages, their features and complexions are as varied as in Africa and Asia. We find in America; white, yellow, brown, tawny, olive, copper, and even black nations as in Africa. Also dwarfs and giants, handsome and ugly features, flat and aquiline noses, thick and thin lips, &c. Source: Atlantic Journal and Friend of Knowledge; A Cyclopedic Journal of Universal Science and Knowledge Historical, Natural, Medical Arts and Sciences: With Numerous Figures. Written by C.S Rafinesque. 

"Bront, are you able to hear the spiritual realm?" Huimanan was desperate to inquire to the gods about what they had done to the sky. He just had to know using his hut, which was one of the two focal points of spiritual energy, with the other being the residence of the head medicine man. It had been the fourth time, and they had yet talked to him. The villagers were erratic as the idea of what seemed to be the apocalypse spread without restraint. A massive shift to instability in his community before mid-morning was unusual.

"No, they put me on hold. Every medicine person is trying to get hold of them. We have to wait." Bront was lying to an extent. His power had been declining for some time now, on top of him not being very gifted. He got in because of dishonesty and connections. And he used manipulation to keep his fancy post. 

He was drowning himself in worry. To not have a grasp on what just occurred unnerved him. There was no true way to take proper action if he didn't. With someone in his position, he was in good standing with those beyond them. 

As they remained seated even spaced while facing each other with their eyes shut, a warrior rushed through the curtain; its attempt to shield them from some of the panic had failed. He had something important to say. As he put down his weapon to wipe off the sweat that dripped heavily from his protruding forehead, Bront turned to berate him. 

"Calm down, Bront. Let him speak. I'm sure he had a good reason to interrupt us." Huimanan brought him back to calmness with the smoothness of his words. 

"Of course, my chief. I would never disturb you in your private sessions without reason." He made sure to dry every drop that had yet to fall onto the soil he stood on. 

"Now tell me what you so eagerly wanted to say." He took a deep breath in anticipation of the imminent news.

"I was just informed that some soldiers from the village of Buatik wanted to meet with you."

He was angered at hearing the name of Buatik. He thought that they would stay away from their side of the woods. They had many disagreements in the past that led to conflict. However, they were very short, more resembling skirmishes over full-blown battles. 

"They met us near the Crimson Patch undermanned. We were about to subdue them when they surrendered and asked us to give this message to you. Granted, they were passing on this critical info from another community, Wataka-walgo. They convinced them to have the gathering in the first place at Buatik."

"That whole scenario seems very strange."

"Well, the world is beyond strange right now."

He chuckled at how true his reply was. "I see. I'll go with an entourage armed to the teeth."

"Would that be necessary? Considering it's just a meeting, it seems excessive."

"It's in case anything unexpected happens."

The warrior chastised himself for not realizing that. "I see. I'll leave you to your business now. Surely, I didn't interrupt too much."

"No, no, no. You weren't a bother at all. If anything, you did well by informing me of this in such a timely manner."

"Thank you, cacique. I'll be leaving now."

They returned to their attempts in communicating with the gods as soon as he left. Bront faced his cacique once more, closed his eyes while seated, and made an indecipherable chant. He then waited for a response.

Five, then ten, then. twenty, and then fifty minutes passed. Huimanan was getting frustrated by his lack of results. They have now wasted hours in their efforts in forging a link to their exalted deities of old. 

"Bront!" He got up and took three steps to him so he can shake him out of his subconscious state. "Bront!" He called to him once more, but he didn't respond. Unknowing to him, Bront finally got through. Looks like he got some of that otherworldliness still in him. 

As Huimanan tried to wake him up with concern-filled screaming, he was downloading large amounts of information into his brain. This was their way of dealing with so many beings in a short time period. 

"... Bront! Bront! Get up! We can try another time..." 

"Whattt?! I was busy getting the information."

"You got it? What did they say?" He grabbed Bront's shoulders.

He peeled back his eyelids to stare at him coldly. "They told me who did it. It was the Yamaye delegation. They're the cause."

He was dumbfounded. "How could such mortals anger the gods to such a degree?"

"I'll tell you." He then took his time to tell him what he just learned, and it shook Huimanan to his very foundation. 

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...｡o○　　○o｡..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Otex and Yuika were feeling chills throughout their bodies during the day. It was not from the cries of children or the distressed shrieks of adults, it was from the appearance of apparitions so black, they looked as if they were crafted from the web of evil itself. 

As they made themselves more and more present, the fire swelled into a ball of heat and burst, producing a shockwave that blasted back into non-existence and brought back their warmth.

"Where did those spirits come from. It's rare to see them so clearly during the day," said Yuika.

"I can't say. Let's just hope things will get better. Not only for us but for Inina too." He threw his arm around her and they both leaned towards each other's heads. She had to succeed. They wanted to secure hers and their legacy.

Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ*:.*:..*:...｡o○　　○o｡..:*..:*..:*Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ

Another evening came to the treehouses and trunkhomes of Guaguanamba. Moroman and Dulganax were desperate to get the guilt off their chests. Knowing that three days had passed since the confusion and chaos of what was the trial, they sought after the Yamaye delegation for their forgiveness. They were at the body prepping station just a few bridges from their homes, guiding the burial people there how they wanted her to be handled.

The burial building was almost like any other, except for it being over five times bigger than the average trunk and having finger paintings all around the rough exterior indicating it was a place of the deceased. The red, black and brown of each took the rudimentary form of animals such as lizards, monkeys and frogs that assisted the dead to the afterlife.

The two saw Zocrix outside leaning on the tree with his arms folded. His expression was a depressed one. The flashbacks of what happened were too much while being near her. He told the children to inform them as to how they desired the little girl to be dealt with while he took a breather for his own sanity.

"Hey, you okay?" Moroman waved as he got Zocrix's attention.

"Yeah, what are you here for? To say sorry, I believe?" He failed to look at them directly.

"Of course. We wanted to say..."

"Sorry isn't going to cut it. It never does."

"Judging from your tone, you certainly don't sound fine." Dulgunax wanted to give him some space. He could feel an outburst coming.

"Of course I'm not fine. Is anything fine?!" He tempered his anger before a torrent of sadness gripped him. "It's just... It's just...I couldn't save her." He slid to his knees and bawled his eyes out before them.

"You mean the dead girl you were carrying around?"

"YESSSSSS! She died in my hands while facing the gods."

"Gods. Do you mean the actual gods? Impossible. How are you still alive?"

He couldn't answer. All he knew was that he was still here.

"Are you going to tell us? I want to know how you could face the gods and survive?"

"It wasn't just me. It was the entire delegation." He divulged the entire predicament to them wiping away the snot from his nose. Keeping it hidden was redundant at this point. When he was done, they were quick to respond in the most sceptical of manners.

"Nice story, but we still don't believe you. Now tell us what actually happened." Moroman wanted him to stop with the lies. He needed to be honest with him and his partner.

"I told you the truth. What I just said wasn't made up."

"Seriously? You can do better than that. A three-year-old could make up something more believable than what you just came up with. I'm sure she died from lack of food or something like that."

"No, it was dehydration. Probably something beyond you."

"Beyond me?" He seemed offended by his quip. " As a fisherman, I face such things everyti..."

"Don't come at me with your 'fisherman' talk. You two get away from me now."

"No. we're not leaving until we give you an apo..."

"I SAID NOW!" Zocrix instilled a sense of fright into them. They hustled away from his seemingly unstable mental state and decided that another day would be a better time for them to state their apologies. The outsiders needed more time to mourn.

Zocrix returned to a frown as he looked into the clouds to see what he could've done differently. Hopefully, her second life will be less terrible than the first. 

Yes!!! Chapter 9 is complete. 😎😎😎  Just in time for New Year's Day. Good thing I measured up the length of this well. Now, let's get into the regular educational bit. Before what we know as Madagascar today, there used to be monarchs until the late 19th century. The man that unified these kingdoms, with help from the British, was King Radama I of the royal Merina dynasty (the kingdom of Imerina). The British recognized him as the ruler of all Madagascar after this.

This was honestly very interesting to learn. I would never think Madagascar had anything worth highlighting besides the Madasgar animated movies. XD

Looks like I'm done for the year. See you in 2021!