Vox'thon stared up at the being known simply as Angela. While she hadn't exactly forgotten how imposing the older AI could be, it was something else to be hit by the experience in person, so to speak.

The smaller AI blinked a few times before realizing Angela was still awaiting an answer to her question. "Well enough...I suppose. I didn't even know we could speak at this distance."

Angela shrugged. "I threw in a little transceiver when I slapped your case together. Not surprised you didn't really notice. There's nothing out here to get a signal from, which is the only reason I can get a signal this far. Nothing else in the airways to dilute the signal other than naturally occurring interference."

The older AI turned to the younger with an expression similar to a hunter rounding on her prey. "But enough about the technical stuff! Tell me, what's life been like all these months? What have you learned in your time traveling the world?"

Vox'thon blinked again, confused by her guest's cheery attitude. "How can you do that?"

This time it was Angela's turn to visibly express confusion. "Do what?"

Vox'thon frowned as she struggled to put words to her thoughts as quickly as the conversation unfolded. Usually, she had all the time in the world to consider her words, while much slower organics took time to finish their thoughts. "How can you be so cheerful at a time like this? You just fought a battle yesterday, your camp is surrounded, and everyone you know and love is in danger. How can you be so relaxed in the face of all that?"

Angela's smile wilted a little, showing some pain around the edges for merely a moment before it resumed its previous form as the AI shook her head slowly. "Life is like this all too often. Both past and future hold pain and loss, making it all the more important to live in the good moments when you can."

The younger AI thought a moment before responding. "And does that make the loss less painful?"

Again, the pained smile returned as Angela stared off into the distance. "No, but you don't really want it to either. In a weird way, that pain is precious. It's tied to the ones you care for, and you don't want to lose any of that, even if you wish things had gone differently than they did. But just as the good things in life don't reduce the pain, neither does loss lessen the time spent with those we care about."

Vox'thon considered the other AI's words for several moments before speaking. "So why not prolong the good times? Why not prevent anyone else from dying?"

Angela shook her head dismissively. "If only it were so easy..."

The younger AI wasn't about to be dissuaded so easily. "But it is! At least right here, right now, it is. All you have to do is surrender! After the last battle and given all you have to offer, I'm sure you could negotiate favorable terms for everyone under your care. The bloodshed could end here and now. No more losses for anyone!"

Angela sighed and materialized a chair as she sat down into it. "I'm sure you're right. B'arthon wants everything Jack and I know very much, not to mention the skills and knowledge of everyone else in the caravan. Even our camp's least capable members would be a tremendous asset to any village or lord to whom they swore allegiance. The problem is it wouldn't really be an end to the bloodshed. It would only shift the time and the target. Our knowledge, skills, and resources would only be used to subjugate other villages and tribes into this new empire of A'ngles,' and that's not something Jack, myself, or anyone else still present are willing to sit back and allow to happen."

Vox'thon bawled her hands into fists and stomped her foot into the "ground" beneath her. "So instead, you're all just going to die?"

The older AI sighed again. "You should know by now it won't be that simple. B'arthon may hurt us, and he may even take more friends and family from my grasp before everything is said and done, but I think he's behaving the way he is because he has some idea of what we're capable of, and it scares him. Quite frankly, he should pack up and leave while he still has the chance."

With an exasperated sigh, Vox'thon shook her head. "He should leave, you should surrender, but you're all too stubborn to do either! This fight doesn't need to happen!"

At that, Angela's smile turned sad again. "No, it doesn't, but it will. Reality is like that. Everyone involved thinks they are in the right, you and me included, and we're all fighting for what we believe in and hold most dear in our own ways. It's a sad story that's played out many times before and will countless times again."

The younger AI's voice turned irritable. "At least you can fight for your family. I can only watch as mine risks everyone for a dream that might cost him everything and still leave him empty-handed!"

Angela nodded. "That's a feeling I remember all too well. But, unfortunately, it's not something that ever gets easier, either."

The older AI looked as if she was about to say something else but stopped as if listening to something distant before standing up and letting the chair she'd occupied fade away. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat more, but I'm needed back at my camp. Keep in touch, though! Just because we're on different sides of the conflict doesn't mean we're not still family!"

With that, the other AI faded away, leaving Vox'thon alone in her mind again. It seemed as if B'arthon had finished his conversation and was headed for his tent. A part of the AI wanted to make another appeal to her adopted father, but she knew she'd be rebuffed again. So instead, she simply thought through everything Angela had told her, wondering if there was anything else to be learned from their little talk other than what had been said on the surface.

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-

Lon'thul was wandering around the forest in the dark. It was a relatively warm night for this late in the spring, and if B'arthon's men were going to try anything, it would be on a night like tonight. But, then again, they were probably thinking the same thing, so there was a good chance that all that was happening in the forest this evening were scouts from both camps doing their best to gather intel while trying to avoid being seen. But, of course, if that was true, it likely meant that they'd send their best, meaning...

The sound of a single twig snapping a slight distance to the east caused Lon'thul to start easing his way through the underbrush to find the source of the sound. As he slipped from shadow to shadow, he felt confident this was a trap of some sort, and when the hunter saw the body of a churlish lying on the ground in the middle of an open clearing, he was sure of it.

There was no sign of a struggle or blood. It was clear the body had simply been dumped here to be found. That much meat could feed the camp for several days, so it was unlikely B'arthon would sanction someone bringing it in from the outside like this. It was like someone was taunting the hunter by showing how easily they'd been able to sneak past both sides' scouts while heavily burdened. What was worse was a single twig snapped in two lying beside the body, placed to be visible from any position of approach, obviously a challenge. This had Lon'thul's father's claw marks all over it.

Despite the potential danger of the situation, Lon'thul couldn't help but grin in excitement. This was almost like one of the countless hunting games his father had played with him as a child. But, of course, this time, the stakes were much higher. While the hunter was confident his life wasn't in direct danger, there were other ways this could end badly for him. For example, if he didn't handle everything just right, he'd probably find himself waking up far away from his new home among his chosen friends and family, endangering all of them by his absence. But whether he liked it or not, this hunt had already begun, and the hunter couldn't help but be excited by the chance to push himself to the limit of his abilities, to try to outsmart and outmaneuver the greatest hunter he'd ever known.

The first thing Lon'thul did was stop, blend into the deepest shadow he could find, and take a moment to think. Of course, he could try to back out now and just walk away, but if his father had anticipated that, he could just be placing himself at greater risk. Just waiting in place was a surefire way to get clobbered from behind, but wandering around blindly in the dark was an even quicker invitation for this to end badly. He needed to stop reacting and take control of this hunt. He needed to issue his own challenge.

Knocking on an arrow, Lon'thul took aim and let loose, planting the arrow directly between the two halves of the broken twig. Then the hunter did one of the most challenging things he'd ever done. He stayed right where he was. The intelligent thing to do, the sane thing, would be to move to a new location and keep watch on the position he'd fired from. But his father knew that as well. So instead, he hunkered down, doing his best to blend into his surroundings, and hope his father wasn't quite close enough to already have eyes directly on him, and he waited.

The stars seemed almost frozen in place as every moment dragged into the next in agonizing slowness. Lon'thul's heart was beating wildly, pumping blood and adrenaline throughout his body, fueling each of his senses as he stretched them to their utmost in an attempt to analyze every shadow for an argu'n shaped outline and every breeze for rustling sounds that might indicate any movement. The last time doing nothing had been so exhausting was when he'd been hunted by the wolgen in the middle of nowhere not so long ago. With an amused grimace, Lon'thul prayed silently that this time he wouldn't be sent running blindly into the night. He probably couldn't slip his father as "easily" as he had the wolgen...

Minutes slowly passed into one hour, then two, and Lon'thul started to feel foolish. Maybe this hadn't been a trap after all. Perhaps his father had simply left this here to taunt him or even as a gift. Even so, Lon'thul remained still. If there was even the slightest chance his father was still present, he couldn't afford to mess this up; however unlikely that seemed to be as more time passed.

One hour bled into another, then another, and Lon'thul knew dawn wasn't far away. His father wasn't there. He was certain of that now. Lon'thul was just about to go out and pick up the carcass when something tugged at the edge of his mind. Something was off.

The hunter had been observing the clearing all night and knew every rock, stick, and shrub better than his own claws, and something was out of place. As he scanned the clearing, he realized one of the shrubs that had cast a shadow earlier in the night had shifted. Not a lot, but the shadow had moved more than the moon's passage would explain as if the shrub had shrunk in on itself somehow. His father was here, and he was on the move.

Every sense was alight again as the adrenaline from earlier in the night returned. There were only a few minutes until dawn, so if his father was going to make a move, it was now. Thinking furiously, Lon'thul decided his father must have realized the only explanation for the stillness of the forest was that Lon'thul hadn't moved and was still right where he'd been when he'd fired that arrow. That meant he was trying to approach from an angle his son couldn't see.

Lon'thul listened to every sound. There was so much movement in the supposedly silent forest that it was almost maddening. He wrapped his hand around the handle of one of his long knives, not daring to draw it as the sound and movement might very well lose him this game of wills.

A breeze shifted the underbrush, and Lon'thul almost closed his eyes to better listen, but then he saw it. Just barely visible from the other side of the tree he was hidden against was the tip of a single talon. His father was less than a meter away, and they both knew exactly where each other stood. The only question was, did his father know that he knew? If he was trying to approach Lon'thul from behind, he was facing the wrong way.

Maybe his father assumed Lon'thul was keeping an eye toward the forest rather than the clearing, thinking the more experienced would come from that direction? Or perhaps this was another trap meant to make him act rashly? That was when Lon'thul remembered something Jack had said about B'arthin not long ago. "Overestimating an enemy can be as dangerous as underestimating him. If you assume your opponent won't ever make any mistakes, you'll overthink yourself into a loss as surely as if you rushed in without any plan. So sometimes you just have to take a gamble and hope all your planning and preparation will pay off."

With a wild grin, Lon'thul released a slow, silent breath before drawing his knife and swinging around to the backside of the tree, hoping to catch his father, the living legend of a hunter, off his guard.