The daily ceremonies were held in a broken down green tarp that double acted as a snow storm shelter. I shoved my shoes on the ground, next to the baby pink crocs. My mom dragged me here so I could be "well acquainted" with Antarctic culture. I shouldn't complain, as I was the one that forced my parents to move here. I wanted to get away from people altogether, and what is better than living in an ice cold Antarctic village?

    "We will wait," announced the chief. "We have some hunter gatherers out." He wore a silky white wolf skin, to shout his hostility to other tribes that intrude. Yeah, I went back in time by moving here, but I love every second here. There's no dependence on technology, the people are the toughest around, and there's no shops to waste time in.

    "Remind why we're here?" My sister scowled. She was part of the majority that didn't want to move here at all. Her, and my little cousin. My bigger cousin loved it here, so much he decided to become a hunter gatherer. Guess that makes two.

    "Shut up, the ceremony is about to start!" My bigger cousin exclaimed. He stuffed rabbit leg in his mouth, leftovers from lunch. His appetite just cannot be fulfilled.

    I positioned myself to block my sister from my vision. She was the ultimate party pooper and she will not ruin my dream for me. Living in a remote village injected life in me.

    "Alright, let's begin," the chief said when he saw the hunter gatherers coming. He sat in the front, where Pax was sitting. Golden sunlight lit his white hair, as if an arctic hare hopped on his head and took refuge there. His eyes were the color of two ice oceans, and his gloves were two ice floes.

    "Hello? Can I please have Rain to the front, please?" Asked the tribe man, now holding a smoky incense stick.

    I wet my lips and nodded. I walked to the front, trying to look at the array of faces, especially Pax.

    "Now please put your hand out," he ordered.

    I nodded and stuck my hand out. He fixed the incense stick on his index finger and with lightning reflexes, struck the stick onto the roof of my palm. A thousand needles punctured through my skin with a fire that left a black mark on my hand. I bit my lip to endure the searing pain, which only got worse as time went by. The idiot man who burned me tossed the stick on the ground, and chanted some gibberish.