Raste: Were you sleeping?
Aigin: Wish I could.
Raste: Why can't you? Scared of the dark?
[Aigin nods positively]
Raste: At daybreak, head for the cost. There are other villages there.
Aigin: Not for me. I have no village.
Raste: Your mind is clouded with thoughts of revenge. You must remember we are all but parts of the whole. We are children in a greater family. The Tchudes have forgotten this. Don't you forget it.
Aigin: My family is dead. I'm all alone.
Raste: You may feel that way, but you are bound up in the greater family. You are not free, unshakable bonds hold you to us.
Aigin: How do I trust something that can be seen?
Raste: Look up there, what do you see?
Aigin: Only the tent.
Raste: But what is there between you and the wall of the tent?
Aigin: You mean there's something there?
Raste: You see nothing?
Aigin: No.
Raste: [grabs him shutting his mouth] You still can't see it? But now you can feel that something is there. You can't see it in the air, but your very existence is tied to it. In this way all things are bound together, intertwined. No man can ever tear himself apart from the whole. But it can happen that you lose sight of the whole. When you does, you become a Tchude: men who lost the path. They stumble blindly towards self-destruction. Listen, and remember what I say: This morning I saw the reindeer bull for the third time in my life. The first time I saw it, I was your age. Then once again, in the prime of my years. Today I am old. The reindeer has come for the last time.
