Fevley

“Hey Moroni?” Madj called from the top of a dusty shelf in the very dusty antique shop. “What is it, Madj?” “Can you tell me about the pipes?” Moroni looked up from his sketchbook. “You can see them?” he asked, sounding pleased. “How wonderful! Yes, come on down.” Those pipes were once a man from a wandering tribe named Exicheretol Gilbert of Drifting Orchards. Like most wanderers, the Exicheretol tribe was formed of castoffs from sedentary and nomadic tribes; but unlike most wanderers, they had endured for many generations. Everyone was expected to make sacrifices for each other. Because he loved his tribe so much, Gilbert made three. The first sacrifice was giving up a scholarship at a prestigious sedentary university, where he would have studied hydroponics. He instead chose to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a dentist. His skill and care were greatly renowned, and his tribe was healthier for it. The second sacrifice was refusing marriage to the woman of