Though I’m curious about Bares-claws’ bonds – or Bonds – I have two other samurans waiting for me, one impatiently next to the carcass that Rocky has brought for us, the other almost vibrating next to me. I ignore the Warrior for a moment, though – the other Unevolved samuran he’s ‘gifted’ our village needs attention first.

  The impression I get from our Battle of Wills is that this one is significantly younger than Bares-claws. Called Kills-a-deer – at least, that’s the translation I get – I get the distinct feeling that he’s been a rather single-minded hunter since he was very young – from what I can tell, he may have only just reached adulthood with the recent hatching the first since his own. I would also venture to guess that he hasn’t experienced much of the negative side of samuran village life due to his success with bringing back carcasses.

  He’s innocently excited about discovering a new village, though there’s a distinct amount of apprehension too – he has lived long enough to realise that not all changes are good. I do my best to reassure him and he accepts my Bond without much discussion.

  “Welcome to the village,” I tell both of them, not smiling since I suspect that would be more likely taken as a threat, samuran body language being what it is. “Iandee, can you take them into the main part of the village and get them settled, please.”

  Sure, no problem, Markus, he replies casually, though you will keep Finds-a-bug and Bites-a-leaf with you, won’t you? Perhaps this other Warrior is on the level, but he’s from the red tribe.

  I smile at him – I know he won’t misinterpret my gesture.

  “I’ll keep them for protection, sure. Lathani, Fenrir, and Storm will stay with me too.”

  He seems satisfied, turning to the two newcomers.

  Come on then, he tells them, his tone more brusque with them than it had been with me, but not unkind. Bares-claws darts a look at me.

  Honoured Pathwalker, he says politely, lifting his chin into the air. He doesn’t continue or drop his chin until I speak.

  “Yes?” I invite. Hopefully he’ll lose the formality fast. I’ve only just got my own villagers to drop the ‘manners’ – and even then, the Unevolved tend to still default to politer forms until I remind them. Habit, I guess. And the older Pathwalkers still like their respectful addresses, particularly Windy.

  What should I do with my beasts? They are not normally allowed into the village proper.

  Good question.

  “Are you able to ensure their good behaviour, or do they present a risk to the beings they come into contact with?”

  Bares-claws looks down at them thoughtfully, as if he’s never been asked the question before.

  My master is able to control their actions entirely, but I do not have the strength that she does. He looks back up at me. I cannot guarantee that they are not a danger, he admits reluctantly.

  “Thank you for being honest.” I tell him. “In which case, Iandee, you’d better swing by the farm area first and get the beasts settled in an enclosure. Then take the two samurans into the village and get them something to eat.”

  Sure, Iandee acknowledges, then departs with the two samurans trailing behind.

  I walk towards the Warrior whose impatience is flickering through his spikes. The other five members of the patrol follow behind as my honour guard. The rapidity of the colour movement in the Warrior’s spikes has increased in the last few minutes, showing his mounting frustration. I ignore it, though, sitting down on the opposite side of the carcass from him, proclaiming that I don’t consider myself to be his ally – yet. The ‘gifts’ have earned him this audience and no more.

  He eyes me and my escort, the colours slowing down again as he probably realises that impatience isn’t going to get him anywhere. Flickers of apprehension and slight fear also creep into his spikes as he eyes Lathani, and Fenrir. He can probably recognise an Evolved beast when he sees one and Lathani is pretty intimidating with her new size, dark fur, and piercing intelligent eyes. Fenrir, built like a venomous tank, is not someone to take lightly either. The raptorcat and the two Warriors should just confirm that he would have no chance in a battle against my group. He’s protected by the customs of hospitality as long as he doesn’t breach them egregiously. But he will only be covered as long as the audience lasts and he surely knows it. He will have to be careful.

  Determined to show him that I’m no pushover either, I use my Transformation Skill to copy Lathani’s claws and combine them with Flesh-Shaping, my finger bones on one hand extending and sharpening. Using them to carve into the meat, I then hold the piece between my thumb and ring-finger claws, using Fire-Shaping to cook the meat. Aingeal would normally fly to catch the drops of fat that fall but it’s currently absent – helping Happy with an experiment by heating her furnace. The two of them have become good friends and have even developed a system of communication between themselves. It just means that I have to hold the piece of cooking meat over the dirt so that the hot fat doesn’t land on my clothes.

  As soon as it’s cooked, I slip the chunk of flesh into my mouth. A little too fast – it’s still hot enough to burn me. But Flesh-Shaping takes care of that too. I love magic. I look up at the Warrior questioningly even as I reach out for another piece of meat. He looks as shocked as any I’ve done this little display with – clearly he wasn’t prepared sufficiently for it.

  “Didn’t you have a reason to be here?” I prompt brusquely. The Warrior seems to shake himself out of his shocked stupor.

  “I did, Honoured Pathwalker. I do. My village is facing a great threat.” By this point, he seems to have fully shaken off the shock and his own claws reach down to rip off a piece of meat and throw it in his mouth. It seems to be more out of desire to follow tradition than need, though, as he doesn’t take any more after that. “A Great beast has taken up residence near us and we have already lost several Unevolved to its predations. Your village proved itself to be accomplished at killing Great beasts with the Hunt during the last Festival of Tribes. And you currently have the only Enlightened Pathwalker among the Tribes. We were hoping to ask for your aid in freeing us from the fear of this beast.”

  I look at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment.

  “A Great beast is a powerful threat, that’s true, but surely you have the Warriors and Pathwalkers to drive it off yourself.” Something is nagging at me. The Warrior looks down at the carcass and busies himself by carefully selecting just the right cut of meat to take next. When he finally looks up again, his spikes are clear of emotion and he’s schooled the slight facial changes which even samuran muzzles can express.

  “We are a small village,” he tells me. “Losing even one of our Pathwalkers would be a massive blow. And if we lost even a handful of Warriors, we would no longer be able to protect ourselves fully. It would be better for us to lose Unevolved who might never Evolve than suffer such reductions to our numbers.”

  Anger curdles inside me as I realise what he’s saying.

  “Meaning that you’d much rather we lose Warriors or Pathwalkers than you do,” I accuse him. The Warrior looks away again, fiddling with the carcass before him.

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  “You have an Enlightened Pathwalker,” he points out, “and were able to bring back the Energy Heart of a Great beast without suffering any losses to your party. Our Pathwalkers hope that you will be able to repeat the feat.”

  I find it hard to argue with that. I still think that it’s a bit rich for another village to come and basically say that they’re not willing to risk their own lives, but that they’d like us to risk ours.

  But it is true that the showing we gave during the Hunt might give them the impression that killing Tier threes is effortless for us. If they’d actually seen the battle, they might think differently but we did succeed in killing the fellapodil without losing anyone, something that isn’t common according to Shrieks. However, we had the advantage of preparation and knowing the terrain at least a little in addition to numbers including another Tier three. The fellapodil was also not the most intelligent of creatures – although it was physically pretty powerful, it didn’t have the intelligent strategy to properly use all of its Skills, for some reason. Facing Raven the dragon-like alcaoris was harder and there we did lose people.

  Though, thinking about it, would we actually have to kill this Tier three?

  “Your problem is that the Great beast has come too close to your village and is starting to take some of your villagers, right?” I check.

  “Yes, Honoured Pathwalker,” the Warrior replies respectfully, still avoiding my gaze, probably in shame.

  “So as long as the Great beast stops hunting you, it should be fine, right?” The Warrior looks up at me in slight confusion.

  “Of course, which is why we need to kill it. Or rather, would very much appreciate it if you could use your superior power to kill it,” he corrects, apparently deciding that flattery might get him further.

  I tap my jaw thoughtfully, then am reminded that I’ve transformed my right hand into clawed fingers when I accidentally pierce my own skin. Trying not to show my embarrassment, I pull my hand away, using Flesh-Shaping to heal the small puncture mark and reabsorb the drop of blood which had emerged.

  The thing is that perhaps killing is not necessary here. I’ve managed to broker a peace between Kalanthia and this village – and that’s despite her having hunted their village for a much longer time and them kidnapping and torturing her cub. Surely creating a mutual agreement to ignore each other will be easier between a village and Tier three without so much history? Though, to be fair, it only worked between Kalanthia and the village because she likes and trusts me and therefore is willing to tolerate the village as long as they leave her alone.

  If I agree to help this other village, I’ll have to see it through, even if, in the end, I’m unable to make an alliance. Which could mean a battle which puts my companions at risk. I decide to get some thoughts from the other Pathwalkers.

  Connecting with all the Pathwalkers and then adding Shrieks, Poison, and Catch in as the most powerful of the Warriors, I explain the situation.

  So, do you think that they are being honest here?

  The red tribe of the sixth mountain is indeed a small village, Tarra agrees thoughtfully. I believe they only have four or five Pathwalkers, and perhaps twenty Warriors. They managed to make it to the Festival last great cycle though they lost one of their Pathwalkers and a handful of Warriors while doing it. They probably know how vulnerable they are – if they lose any more Pathwalkers and none of their current Unevolved are able to replace the losses, they will need to join another village just to survive.

  If they are too weak to solve their own problems without deaths and too cowardly to risk that, I say to let them suffer the consequences, Windy responds in her usual abrasive manner.

  And what if Markus had let our village suffer the consequences of being unable to deal with the Forest of Death? River demands.

  Shaman had a plan, Windy replies stubbornly. If you hadn’t disrupted it, it might have worked.

  At what cost? demands Tarra.

  Can we stop chewing on old bones? groaned Flower, expressing exactly what I feel. It is impossible to argue that Shaman’s solution would have been better than Markus’. In fact, it would probably have been significantly worse. Reducer is right that his intervention here in this village has helped us immensely. How can we then deny that help to others?

  We risked our own lives for it, argues Catch. I am not against helping, but to risk losses to our own numbers when the other village is unwilling to do so does not sit right to me.

  I agree with Catches-leaves, replies Yells. I was not there for the fight with the Great Pride, but two of our Warriors didn’t come back from it, nor did four others of the group I had travelled and fought with. I am not against danger, and testing our abilities against a more powerful opponent seems to be a good way to advance – look at how Wind-whisperer was finally able to break through to Evolve for a second time after fighting the Great Many-armed. However, I do not like the idea that we will fight for people who will not fight for themselves.

  They continue speaking over the matter, but nothing new is brought up. I call an end to the discussion when my decision crystallises and explain my intentions. Most of them seem happy enough with my plan so I focus back on the conversation.

  The Warrior obviously thought that I was deep in thought – which I suppose is technically true – and has been busying himself by consuming his side of the carcass bit by bit – evidently, he’s hungry.

  “Here is what I propose,” I start. Apparently it was unexpected as the Warrior flinches slightly. “We will visit your village. We will go to speak with the Great beast. If we can resolve the situation peacefully, we will do so. If we cannot, we will fight on one condition.”

  “And what is that?” the Warrior asks with some apprehension.

  “That your Warriors and Pathwalkers will fight with us.”

  The Warrior eyes me carefully.

  “I…am not sure my Pathwalkwers will agree to this.”

  “Then you can go to another village for help,” I say simply. The Warrior deflates – he knows that that’s not an option. Almost all the other villages are much further away so, if this is as time-sensitive as it seems, he will risk more of his village being consumed while he travels – without gifts – to visit another village. And that village might refuse him too, making it a waste of time.

  “I…If the Honoured Pathwalker speaks to my leaders, I’m sure that you can convince them,” he ventures, dodging the responsibility slightly. Though, to be fair to him, he probably can’t make that decision. Really, the other village should have sent a Pathwalker with him to negotiate.

  “We will come,” I agree. “But we will not help for free, and if your Pathwalkers decide to turn us away because they aren’t willing to put their own skin in the game, we will expect compensation for our time.”

  The Warrior eyes me, then grunts in his equivalent of a sigh. Resignation flashes through his spikes. It’s the best deal he can hope for and he knows it.

  “Then Pathwalker Tamer, the red tribe of the sixth mountain thanks you for your willingness to help. If I may ask, when can we leave?”

  I consider the matter. It shouldn’t take too long to prepare, but I would like to make sure everyone is outfitted in as good armour and equipment as possible.

  “Two days. Until then, you can either remain as a guest, or return to your village.” The Warrior seems to consider it.

  “I thank the Honoured Pathwalker for your offer, but I do not wish to impose on your welcome. If you would permit me to make a camp nearby, and inform your Warriors of my presence so they do not attack, I would be grateful. I can then lead you to our village in two days’ time, ensuring that you do not become lost.

  It’s a fair compromise and honestly one I’d prefer over him joining us in the village itself. I only offered out of politeness; perhaps he realises that, or perhaps he’s as uneasy with me as I am with him.

  “That works,” I agree casually, then return to the traditional formal goodbye. “May the ancestors watch over you until we meet again.”

  “Thank you Honoured Pathwalker,” he answers, raising his chin into the air briefly. “May the ancestors smile on our next meeting.” With that, he heads into the forest without a backwards glance.

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