The woman twisted around in her saddle until she sat cross legged looking back at Peter. She gave him a steady glare then switched her gaze between him and Walt.

Her balance impressed Peter, she seemed almost a part of the beast, they moved as one. He had a tight grip on Walt in one arm and the rope webbing across the mount’s back.

In response to Peter’s impassive gaze she let loose a torrent of guttural swearing that made Peter blush. He had no idea what she said, but the intent seemed clear.

The woman called out a command to her mount, and the beast slid to a halt. The rest of the pack stomped further away.

‘You! Both of you have the same smart-arse look.’ Her lip curled. ‘Get off my mount. Now.’

The beat had lowered its head and the woman grabbed Walt and hauled him to his feet.

‘Get off,’ the woman said again as shoved at Walt. She said more in the guttural language but Peter didn’t need to understand to know she was serious.

Walt eased himself forward and past the woman onto the neck of the beast.

‘Why?’ Peter said. ‘What did we do wrong?’

The woman just glared. The beast stood three meters high at the shoulder so Peter joined Walt and helped him down. Once the younger boy had reached the snowy trail Peter stood on the end of the beast’s snout and looked back.

‘What’s with you?’ he said.

The woman gave a clucking call, the beast tossed its head, and threw Peter in the air. He flailed his arms, landed in a snow drift, rolled on his shoulder, to end up on his feet facing the woman. He shot a smug look back at her thankful for all the parkour training his martial arts coach had made him do.

She shook her head, then at a command, her mount turned back to the rest of the pack and took off.

‘What did we do?’ said Walt.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t,’ said Peter.

The two cousins began to trudge after her down the trail in the footsteps of the pack.

Each step Peter took seemed heavier than the one before, the snow had soaked into his makeshift foot coverings. He could hardly feel his feet. He stomped the ground but it did not warm them, he only splashed up slush.

‘I wish you had not upset that lady,’ said Walt.

‘Not sure we can call her a lady. Who would abandon two kids in the middle of nowhere?’

‘You’re an adult. Same age as her.’

‘I guess.’

‘You’re twenty aren’t you? That’s plenty adult.’

They stopped. Ahead on the trail a huge animal ran at them.

Peter dragged Walt off the trail just as the beast ran past. They saw the rider at the same time he saw them.

More of the strange language. But Peter got the picture.

Get on. We can’t delay. What did you do to upset her?

‘Yeah. No idea there,’ Peter said in reply.

The man cocked his head, stared, then commanded his mount to drop its head. They used the webbing across the beast’s head to climb up until they sat behind him. Peter found it easier climbing up than looking down form the height. Peter recognized him as the warrior leader.

‘Thank you sir,’ Peter said as he and Walt settled down.

The man grunted and replied in a non-committal manner. Peter imagined he said something like, ‘Don’t get too comfortable.’

‘No sir.’

The warrior cocked his head back, regarded Peter again, then gave a command to his mount. The beast picked itself up, reared on two legs and ran down the trail a ways before switching to a more measured four-legged trot.

Peter rubbed at his cold feet. Then he slipped the wet coverings off and tucked them under himself. The warm body of the beast beneath him made little difference at first, except he guessed the beast would not much appreciate having his two ice cold feet shoved into her back.

Peter reached down and gave the heaving body a couple of pats.

‘Sorry girl, but you’re saving my life here.’

The creature picked up its pace. The cold air whipped passed his head and he wished he had a hood like the warrior’s. He ducked his head against Walt’s and closed his eyes. He had not slept in what seemed like an age. And he really wanted to get out of his swimming trunks. They rode up his legs something awful.

The rest of the warrior troupe had settled into a fast walk so they caught up with them again after only a short run.

They still skirted the tree line, sometimes above it, other times below it.

‘Where do you think we’re going?’ asked Walt.

‘Away from the blackbirders I hope.’ Peter could see the majordomo’s mount ahead with Jan and Tiz behind him. Their rider remained content at the rear of the pack.

‘It seems like we are circling back though, just higher.’

‘Yeah. I’m thinking they wanted to lay a false trail, especially with that route up the frozen river. The hard ice would have made it harder to leave an obvious track, especially with the snow falling to fill the footprints.’

The English-speaking woman rode her beast amongst the leading group. As the sun had come out she had thrown her hood back to reveal deep auburn hair tied back in a pony tail. It waved to and fro in time with the sway of her mount.

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The troupe ambled to a halt but their beast strode forward amongst the others causing a rippled of grumbles as it shouldered past the stopped troupe. Other animals almost bounced off the hulking flanks of the leader’s beast, not only did this warrior command the troupe, his beast ruled the other creatures.

The leading group had formed up, heads in, with their mount’s dropped to all fours. Their beast though had taken to a two legged stride to show its dominance as it broke into the circle. Behind them Peter saw the rest of the troupe array themselves back from the leading group and their animals had squatted low to the ground.

A hierarchy of beasts and humans.

The red-head did not look at him once but glared away at another rider who seemed startled and uncomfortable to see her anger directed at him.

All eyes now swiveled to the leading warrior as he stood up on the shoulder of his mount in front of Walt, legs akimbo, and arms crossed.

Peter realized for the first time two beasts had no riders. They had ropes around their snouts, and cruel spiked halters across their chests and shoulders. Two of the warriors had fallen in the attack, and these were the beasts they had left behind.

He sensed the agitation of the orphaned beasts. Without riders they did not have the calm demeanor of the other carnivores.

The leader spoke. All listened. Even Peter and Walt. But after a while Peter studied the other warriors instead. Most had a dark complexion with light to dark brown hair. The lone redhead, with her light skin, stood out in contrast. A few men had straggly beards on their chins. He saw many women amongst the men too, and not the smallest of them either. All had the dark blue-black or green-black pigment around their eyes, but each in a different manner. Some had paint on their foreheads, others on their cheeks, while some kept their noses a contrasting color. An asymmetrical twist came from slashes and stripes of color across on side of their face or the other.

He could see no reason for the patterns, camouflage or an indication of rank, or even identity. The dark around the eyes would help with glare off the snow. But the overcast day had not been a problem for him and Walt.

Peter began to hear patterns and repetitions within the words of the troupe leader. It had become less a wall of chaotic sound and more a shifting pattern of language. Underneath he heard the words of a speech, encouragement, and a hint of sadness. The riderless beasts became the focus of attention then. Symbols for their loss of two of their number.

The redhead woman raised her voice in dissent, and some shouting erupted between the majordomo and then woman. Eventually she gave a sullen nod and for the first time glared at Peter.

Others regarded him and the other cousins on the back of the majordomo’s mount. The leader spoke and gestured at them in turn. Not a welcome so much as a plea for their acceptance. A rumble of agreement came from all sides. Some of the beasts swayed at the sound as if they too took part in the meeting.

The leader raised his hands up and began a chanting cry, echoed by the troupe. Peter thought first of a haka, but this seemed more like a two part rapper’s song. The words diverged and the group split in two as beasts rose and went in two directions. The majordomo and the redhead in one direction, the leader in another.

‘Hey. We want to stay together,’ said Peter.

The leader grunted, then nodded. In shock Peter wondered if he spoke English too. But he called out to another rider and motioned Peter and Walt to swap mounts in his guttural language and not a word of English.

The two rider-less beasts joined their group, but most of the group gave them a wide birth.

‘Hey,’ said Jan. ‘Any idea what’s happening?’

‘No,’ said Peter. ‘But I hope we’re going somewhere safe.’

Their group moved along a ridge just below the crest so they would not be sky-lined from below. Ahead through the clearing snow lay a misty saddle between two taller peaks.

As they rose up the slope the wind gathered strength and whipped snow into the air where it stung against their faces. The beasts came close together for shelter, alternating which side they rode on to share the burden.

The majordomo kept close to the beast who carried Jan and Tiz so at least the four could talk a little when the wind allowed it. The other riders had shared some warmer head gear and gloves but the wind still bit. All had drawn up their cloaks and ponchos around their heads and huddled together with their legs drawn up. The felt wraps around their feet had warmed, even while damp, as long as they remained out of the wind and against the fur-feather body of the beast.

‘I don’t get it,’ said Tiz. ‘First they attack the fort, then retreat and ambush the aliens. Only to rush off again.’

‘A lot of aliens came out of that portal building though,’ said Peter. ‘I don’t think they knew they would be out numbered so much so fast.’

‘Why did they attack in the first place?’ said Walt.

‘Because the aliens are the bad guys,’ said Tiz.

‘We can’t know that. I made friends, really good friends, with aliens like these. I still miss them.’

They crested the saddle and the beasts raised themselves on two legs and took off down the slope in a jolting run that made conversation impossible. The wind cut through even the thick felted ponchos. Peter and Walt couldn’t huddle together as they had to hold on to the webbing or be thrown off.

The downward run ended when they reached a tall stone cairn on a ridge just above the tree line. Two of the warriors pushed their beasts onto the piled stone tower and knocked it over. The rest continued down the ridge and into the tree where a trail opened up under the canopy.

‘They’re hiding the way from any of the aliens,’ said Walt. ‘That’s smart.’

Once amongst the trees the temperate seemed to rise in the still air. Only a few patches of snow gleamed in small clearings. They pushed on for a few more minutes, before the group halted, dismounted, and lead their beasts to a steaming stream.

‘A hot spring,’ said Jan.

The beasts lowered themselves to the waters and rested, grumbling and snapping at each other but without dangerous intent. The two riderless beast however had been tied up apart to two sturdy trees some ways back along the trail.

The four cousins took off their foot wraps and eased them into the hot water, but it proved to be too hot. Further down the other riders had done the same but another stream flowed there. A few of the troupe had even stripped off and soaked themselves. Peter counted ten riders. The old Italian had gone with the other group.

‘Any idea what is happening?’ said Tiz. ‘A few hours ago they attacked the aliens, now they’re in a spa.’

‘Yeah. And where did the rest of them go?’ said Walt.

‘There’s someone who could tell us if she wanted to,’ said Peter.

‘Who is that?’ said Tiz.

‘That unfriendly woman?’ said Jan.

‘Yeah. She thinks she knows me somehow. I heard a New Zealand accent, so it’s possible. But I’ve no idea how.’

He eased his way towards the redhead woman. She had forgotten them and teased a tall man with grey hair as they stood knee deep in the warm water.

‘Hi,’ Peter said as he came close.

‘You! Go away,’ the woman said. ‘It’s all your fault.’

Peter held his hands up. ‘I’ve no idea…’

‘If not for you,’ her voice rose is anger. ‘I’d not be here.’

‘Hey,’ Peter said. ’It’s not my fault you got picked for this group.’

The woman advanced on him. Peter realized she was younger than he had thought. Her fierce face and painted face had thrown him off. But in the warm waters her paint had washed off. He almost…

‘No,’ she said. 'You’re the reason I’m on this planet. Marooned here for ten years.’

‘How…’

‘You brought it on us.’ She stood directly in front of him now, anger curled her brow. ‘I lost everything.’

‘Wait…’

He began to have an idea who she might be.

‘And look at you,’ she said. ‘You’re younger than you should be. Where have you been for the past ten years?’ She stood face to face with him now. He stepped back almost afraid she would head butt him.

‘Where were you?’ Her frown deepened. He noticed a crease between her eyebrows. ‘You were back home. Cosy?’

‘I didn’t…’

She turned on her heel, but not before she swung her hip against his and knocked him on his butt into the water.

Peter coughed and spluttered the sulfurous water from his nose and mouth as he gaped at her receding back. Her long legs strode through the steaming water as the other rides whooped and splashed at the emotional display.

‘Do you know her?’ Jan said. ‘She’s pretty pissed with you.’

‘It makes no sense,’ Peter said. ‘The last time I saw her she would have been six or seven years younger than me.’

‘Can’t be the same person then,’ said Jan. ‘She’s like, heaps older. In her twenties.’

‘Yeah,' said Peter. 'But Sarah should be around Walt’s age.’

‘Sarah?’

‘Yeah. Last time I saw we were both getting thrown about Lyttleton Harbor by a waterspout. Then I ended up somewhere else.’

He frowned at her back.

‘I guess she did too.’