S'haar sighed. With their army surrounded, their leadership dead or missing, and a battlefield washed in blood, the last of Lord A'ngles' force surrendered unconditionally. Jack was safe, though at no small cost, but right now, she couldn't be at his side. As the official leader of the alliance of her people and the hill people, she'd accepted their surrender but was now speaking with the chiefs about what they would do with their captives. Some were less charitable than others.

One particularly furious chief stood up and voiced his demands. "They came into our mountain, enslaved or killed our families, and now have the gall to ask to be released? They should be executed, one and all!"

Then the arguing began. Most weren't in favor of executing nearly a thousand survivors, but a disturbing amount seemed to be. After a few minutes of noisy debate, S'haar stood up and waited for the clamor to die. Once she had their attention, she directed her gaze toward the chief who'd spoken. "Setting aside whether it's right or wrong, we simply do not have the ability to execute all the captives. There are nearly as many of them as there are us, and even though they're unarmed, if we start killing them, they'll fight back with tooth and claw. Given the current state of our army, you may lose almost as many people trying to finish them off as you did in the battle!"

At that, most of those present seemed to come around. At least there'd be no mass executions this day. S'haar continued. "Still, there need to be consequences. If it turns out those who instigated this battle survived, I will turn them over to you for an execution of your choice. Additionally, the villages will have to pay reparations of some kind, probably in food and metal, but we'll have to save the specifics for a later date when we have some understanding of what they are capable of paying."

More agreement this time, but another chief stood up to voice his concerns. S'haar nodded his way in acknowledgment. After a moment, he began speaking. "What about those whose tribes have been savaged beyond repair? My own tribe will not be able to survive the winter with how much we lost."

S'haar thought a moment before answering. "Your options are limited, but you can either seek help from those who fared better, disperse and join with some of the other tribes in the area who are probably in desperate need of more people themselves, or join us as we head back south into the villages. We'll feed and house you through the winter, and then you can decide whether to remain or return to your homes. That's really all I can offer."

At that, there was more noise as the gathered leadership discussed among themselves. After several minutes Rak'shal, the hunt master of the Wolgen Speakers, stood to speak. "And what of yourself, 'Lady S'haar?' What will you and your people be doing?"

S'haar didn't know for certain what Jack's plans were at the moment, but there seemed to only be one answer she could think of. "Most likely, we will return to the valley and our villages. Though we may have fought against them, most of our family and friends still reside there, and now that A'ngles is no longer after us, it's time to rebuild our lives and homes."

Rather than sit down, Rak'shal tilted his head. "So then you'll be taking over as Lord of the villages?"

S'haar took a breath to answer, then hesitated. After several minutes of silence, she took another breath and answered. "I've never particularly liked the idea of nobility and have no real desire to govern. All this came about more by necessity and bad luck than through any desire to be in charge of more than myself and my home. I suspect there will be those with more experience and desire to take charge. I'd rather relax and sheath my blades for a change."

To that, there was more uproar. It seemed S'haar's answer was either unsatisfactory or simply unbelievable. She'd been hoping this meeting was almost over, but it seemed as if it would go on longer than she'd like.

-

As To'brel scrounged around the battlefield, he wasn't sure if he was ashamed that he was of so little use that he was sent off on this task or proud that Jack trusted him so implicitly with something that meant so much to the human. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if it wouldn't be better for him to focus on something of more immediate importance.

To'brel found most of a metal leg and added it to his sled full of metallic body parts. He couldn't help but think of all the time he'd spent with the metallic woman, all the way back to his first night at the outpost when he'd been alone and afraid, and she'd taken the time to talk to him from outside his cell. Aside from Em'brel, she was probably his closest friend, though he wouldn't dare say that to Chal'ac.

Finding the mangled end of an arm, To'brel shook his head. He knew Jack wanted to be out here right now, but with Lady Angela gone, he and Em'brel were now the foremost experts on emergency medicine on the planet, and there was no end in sight to the need for their expertise.

After lifting up a corpse to pull out another odd metallic piece, To'brel had no idea what it belonged to, he realized he wasn't alone. Standing over him, holding a severed metal hand, was Tel'ron, the outpost's Master of all things metal.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Placing his find on his sled, To'brel stood up, noticing how intently the craft master was staring at the hand. After a moment, Tel'ron spoke. "She's really gone, isn't she?"

To'brel sighed, trying to force a comforting smile but not really succeeding. "Yeah, as unbelievable as that is. Jack wants me to gather up every piece I can find, no matter how big or small. I'm guessing he wants to perform some sort of ceremony because he told me it was important to be careful with how I handled them and to be as gentle as possible."

The craft master stared at the hand for several more minutes, moving one of the fingers as if studying how it worked. Finally, To'brel held out a hand as he spoke again. "May I?"

After another moment, Tel'ron handed his prize to the younger male, who was surprised to realize the normally stoic male had tears in his eyes. "Be careful with that." Then nodding to the sled, "With all of her. She was...something special."

To'brel nodded in agreement, suddenly feeling foolish about his earlier thoughts. "Yeah, she was..."

- Lon'thul wasn't surprised at how easy it was to track Lord Angles. Old as the tracks were, the village lord wasn't exactly proficient in this kind of subterfuge. What did surprise him was how short a distance Angles had gone and what awaited the hunter at the end.

Angles appeared to be lying face down, with a rather large knife plunged through his back. Looking around, it was apparent some sort of struggle had ensued, but none of it seemed centered around Angles. If anything, his death seemed almost incidental, like an afterthought to whatever happened. Two sets of tracks led away from the struggle, though in one case, "tracks" was generous since it seemed like they'd all but crawled away.

Seeing as the crawling argu'n probably didn't get so far, Lon'thul decided to follow that path first. Given the amount of blood at the original scene and how little there was on the trail, it looked like someone had been pretty badly injured but was at least somewhat familiar with emergency care.

As he followed the trail further, it started getting harder to track, as though whoever he was following was trying to hide his trail. However, whenever Lon'thul began to wonder if his quarry had just up and disappeared, it seemed like another clue of his passage was just barely within a searchable radius. On the third such incident, the hunter started to suspect it was intentional and reached for his knife, only to discover a blade at his throat and a familiar presence at his back. "You've come a long way as a hunter, son, but you still have a ways to go!"

The knife went slack as his assailant was racked by a coughing fit. Turning around, Lon'thul was not surprised to see his father. However, the older hunter looked horrible, and it only took a cursory glance to see why. Dek'thul's stomach was tightly bound, but still, blood seeped through the bandage. As the older hunter swayed, Lon'thul steadied him, then helped his father sit down. It was clear his father was in bad shape.

With a concerned frown, Lon'thul spoke while examining his father further. "What are you doing hiding out here? We gotta take you back to camp and get you treated immediately!"

Dek'thul only laughed and smiled. "Nah, I've been a hunter long enough to know there's no returning from a stomach wound like this. I was just hoping you'd track me down before I passed. Tried to leave a trail only you'd be able to follow..." He was interrupted by more coughs, and Lon'thul noticed that where his hand covered his mouth, there were now flecks of blood.

Crouching beside his father, the younger hunter shook his head. "Nah, pops, if you've lived this long, you can make it back to camp with me! Jack might be able to save you still. We gotta try!"

Lon'thul started to stand, but Dek'thul grinned as he grabbed his son's shoulders and pushed him back into a crouch as he spoke. "Your concern is touching, and your hope is admirable, but I knew I was dead as soon as I took this hit. Now do your dying pops a favor, shut your mouth, and listen to me for a moment, will you?"

It was hard to know what to say, so Lon'thul did as he was told, only for his father to chuckle and cough again. "If I'd known dying was all it took to make you listen, I might have tried it years ago!"

Despite the situation, Lon'thul grinned and rolled his eyes. "You know I always listened! I just made up my own mind about whether you were right or not!"

Dek'thul nodded. "Yeah, yeah, you did. That's your greatest strength and weakness, but that's okay. It's too late to try and change you anyway. Despite that, you're a good kid. Surprised the hell out of me when you stood against old Angels, then surprised me even more when you won! At least in that way, you've already surpassed me."

Lon'thul grinned. "Well, that and the time I outsmarted you and captured you!"

His father laughed outright before clutching his stomach. "Yeah, that too!"

With a frown, Lon'thul thought about where he'd found the old village lord. "I'm guessing you're the one that got Angles, but who else was there? Who got the drop on you?"

Dek'thul grinned sadly. "It was that brat of his, B'arthon. I didn't think he had that much fight in him! It shows you what I've told you before, never underestimate a cornered animal! I don't hold it against him, though. He was simply following the rules of the hunt, kill, or be killed. Though I doubt he's doing all that much better than me..."

Then Dek'thul's expression became sober as he looked his son in the eyes. "Listen. Wherever I'm going next, I'm going to wait for you. I expect you to be twice the hunter I am by the time you get there! Don't think you can slack off on improving yourself just because I'm not around! And once you get old enough, get yourself some young idiot to train to surpass you! I expect your whelp to be able to walk right up to a wolgen and slap it, then casually stroll away!"

Lon'thul laughed. "And what's their kid supposed to aim for?"

Dek'thul didn't bat an eye. "Sneaking up on death, of course!"

Then with a smaller chuckle, the older hunter patted the ground beside him. "It's been too long since we've had a talk like this. Sit with me a while longer."

Lon'thul did as asked and spoke with his father for hours, telling him all about his adventures with Jack and S'haar. His voice carried through the trees long after the older hunter stopped responding.