Back in the clearing, everyone heard Laura's scream.

The humans lurched to their feet, then stared at each other, unsure what to do and unwilling to give orders in case they turned out to be the wrong ones. These were people used to taking a long time to make decisions.

The nonhumans were more diverse in character. Some of them were weighted down by slow and bulky bodies. Others were fully capable of rushing to the rescue, but weren't sure what a scream meant, or why they should care.

But General Graa did not hesitate. He stretched his neck, beard bristling. His wings and beak opened.

"Mr. Grumbles!" he cried. "Strip me!"

"Ooh!"

"Your Excellency," said Ambassador Li, "and distinguished attendees, I ask you to maintain calm in our current circumstances. I have been apprised of a possible danger in the forest, but rest assured, our diligent staff will address this matter with utmost diligence. Meanwhile, it is my utmost responsibility to guarantee your safety, and of course the security of each and every one our esteemed guests."

"Your staff are of no use." Graa spread his wings to give Mr. Grumbles access to the clasps of his chain harness. "Neither are you, unless you know how to get me naked."

***

"What is this thing you have with people's pets?"

Mark sounded so convinced, Koen almost wondered if he had just been caught in the act of trying to steal Fancy Death the way he'd stolen Mr. Grumbles. But wait, Laura was here. Mark was … what the hell was Mark doing?

"Koen!" Laura screamed again.

The sound made Koen want to run or punch or scream, himself. He stopped himself.

Control, he thought as he stepped between her and the jaguar, hands up. Not with palms out. That was a human gesture. Koen folded his hands under his chin and bared his teeth. He crouched, hunched his back, and wished he had a tail.

"Down, Death!" He spoke in Dutch, but tried to sound as much as possible like a mad old mouse-priest. "Down!"

He both looked and sounded ridiculous, but his gambit was not entirely ineffective. The jaguar sat back on his haunches, ears up. He swallowed the remains of the translator and blinked huge, glowing eyes at the humans. His ears swiveled back, and his muzzle wrinkled.

"Laura?" said Koen. "Mark?" He thought the Jaguar was unconvinced by his performance, but actually the animal's attention had been distracted.

Out of the forest, there came a great, powerful caw.

"Ahoy! I am here! I am a male of great status! Fight me!"

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Fancy Death swung his muzzle around as a black shape swooped upon him. His paws came up to bat at the new attacker.

"Stop!" shouted Koen, which was unwise. Fancy Death didn't like that noise. He planted his paws back on the ground and faced Koen. The muscles around his shoulders tensed.

"Graa!" shouted Laura. "Your Excellency! Please get help."

"Regret your insulting underestimation of me." Graa clapped his wings together and swept up to perch on the branch next to Mark. "I will save you all myself." He raised his crest and made a noise like talons running down the scalp. "Mr. Grumbles, attack!"

"Aeeeiii!" Mr. Grumbles crashed out of the undergrowth, still fully armored, screaming like an ape.

The jaguar screamed back, hackles high and teeth bared. He was heavier than the hominid, and much better armed.

"Don't do it!" Koen shouted, "Don't sacrifice him."

"That is my order for you. Human Koen, attack!"

Koen's muscles twitched, but did not obey. He had not spent his life under the Pick that Administers Direction. Koen had trained himself, using the fear of death.

Fancy Death sat back on his haunches, swiping out with his paw at Mr. Grumbles, whose arms were spread and mouth was open. He screamed again, but didn't seem to know what else to do.

Unlike the erectus, Koen was capable of imagining all sorts of possible next steps. The scenario currently occupying his neocortex and amygdala involved his own grisly death beneath the claws of a jungle cat. He could feel the fangs closing around his fluttering heart.

In a blast of sour wind, the raven landed on Koen's head. "Attack, I said!"

As if in perverse obedience, the jaguar sprang, a hundred kilograms of uncoiling muscle and bone, tipped with claws and teeth. Paws screeched down decorative armor, knocking Mr. Grumbles backward. Fangs stretched toward his unprotected throat.

Koen shut his eyes, muscles locked and trembling.

"Be calm," said General Graa. "Be good. Good boy. Breathe."

Koen inhaled the scent of hunting cat and whimpered.

"Haa-aaEEE!" said Mr. Grumbles.

Graa gave up and launched himself from Koen. "I am here! This my territory! Submit!"

A furious yowl and a series of sharp calls from Graa.

"Now, Human Koen. Now!"

Breathe.

Koen opened his eyes. His brain could not interpret what he was seeing. His blood vessels had constricted everywhere but in his muscles, and the restricted flow of blood to his brain had mostly shut down his auditory and visual centers. Cortical functions such as calculation, planning, and executive control were likewise set aside, and everything was just impossible.

Breathe. Good boy.

Mr. Grumbles lay on his back, whimpering, but Fancy Death was no longer on top of him. He was stalking the large, back bird that hopped across the ground, beak full of tawny fur.

"I have distracted him." Graa's voice was clear behind the fur. "Now, hit him with a stick."

Graa hopped, and Fancy Death held out his paw.

"Stick? What stick?" Koen said, totally at a loss. The world was murky chaos. How could there even be a stick?

Something whacked him on the shoulder. It was Fling's staff, held by Laura.

Laura! Now Koen knew what to do.

Koen grabbed, and she dove away from the arc of his swinging club.