"As we were discussing," Engin began, his voice grave, "we have a few choices to make." His eyes drifted across the gathered crowd—the captives studied the ground with downcast eyes while the guards exchanged nervous glances. "This is not a matter to take lightly."

Ebonheim regarded the crowd, her golden eyes darting from one person to the other—each face bore a range of emotions: some were worried, others curious, and others grim. No one seemed eager to speak, even as the villagers nodded in agreement with Engin's words.

After a while, she cleared her throat and stepped forward. "What do you have in mind?" she asked Engin.

Engin regarded her for a moment. "Hang them, imprison them, or allow them to go free." His words were matter-of-fact, but Ebonheim could detect a note of reluctance in his voice. "Fortunately," he continued, "there were no casualties on our side, all livestock and food supplies have been secured, and the guards who had fought with them are recovering from their injuries."

Thorsten stepped up beside Ebonheim. "Aye," he added with a scowl, "things could have ended worse, all around. I've witnessed raids in the past where entire villages were burned to the ground. These lot," he paused to gesture to the captives, "seem to be more interested in stealing than attacking—and even then, their tactics were more like those of unscrupulous children than that of trained raiders."

"Yet even then," Engin replied with a frown, "they still violated our property and trespassed on our village."

Hilda sighed as she took a step forward, joining them. "Take a good look at their faces," she said, her voice gentle but firm, "see how young they are. Do they look like hardened criminals?"

The villagers regarded them and Ebonheim noted that most did not look more than twenty winters of age. Despite some being burly and brute-ish in appearance, they all had youthful faces and lacked the jaded expressions usually associated with bandits. Many of them carried the fresh wounds of youthful inexperience—the odd bruise here and there, scrapes, and small cuts.

There was a mumble of assent, but before anyone could comment, Thorsten interjected, "Aye, they look like lads who've been pushed to do something they shouldn't have. But still, that doesn't change the fact that they're thieves."

"True," Hilda said with a nod. "But this is not an issue to be handled with violence. Let's do what we can to offer them a second chance."

A moment later, Bjorn arrived followed by a trio of huntsmen: Elric, Eddard, and Orin. He glowered at the group of beastkin who stood before them, then glanced at Ebonheim and Thorsten. "Found these three tied up outside the village. They told me that they had encountered these ones earlier during the day and forced them to reveal the location of our village."

Elric hung his head low as he bowed before Ebonheim. "I'm sorry, goddess," he said, his voice shaky, "my fear and carelessness brought danger to our village."

Ebonheim's eyes widened at the sight, and she reached out to touch his shoulder, reassuring him with a gentle pat. "It's alright," she said softly, "you did what you thought best for your companions."

Elric remained bowed in shame until Thorsten cleared his throat—Ebonheim's eyes darted to him before returning to Elric. "Stand up straight," she told him with a smile. "Don't be too hard on yourself. Sometimes, even the most capable of us can be caught off guard."

Elric nodded, then stood up and stepped back, giving Bjorn a wide berth as he stood beside the other elders. Bjorn's eyes remained locked on the would-be thieves. "Well?" he asked, his voice gruff, "Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

One of the beastkin—the one who had tried to grab the goat before—stepped forward. "We're sorry." The words tumbled out in a rush. "We didn't mean to hurt anyone, but we had to take what we needed to survive." He fidgeted nervously as he spoke, his tail brushing against the ground behind him as he stared at the dirt, unable to look any of the villagers in the eye.

Another captive gave the one that spoke a shove, a small growl rumbling in his throat. "Shut up, idiot," he snarled, "where's your pride?"

The first beastkin staggered to one side but didn't respond—his ears flattened against his head.

A small silence lingered in the air. Some of the captives appeared ashamed, while others struggled to remain defiant.

"Is there anything else?" Bjorn asked after a moment, "No?" Then he turned to Thorsten and the elders and said, "It's your choice."

As Bjorn took a step back, Engin sighed and ruffled his unkempt hair. "Given the circumstances...we could be more lenient, I suppose," he said, his gaze sweeping over the crowd as he thought aloud. "Yet, I fear this may only embolden them—or worse, incite them to attack again."

Thorsten let out a loud guffaw at this. "Aye, I can see that happening. Imagine these lot wandering back home after a failed raid."

Thorsten's comment drew a round of laughter from the crowd, but it was short-lived as they recalled their current predicament. Engin shrugged at Thorsten's reply and turned back to Ebonheim, "Your thoughts?"

Ebonheim pondered the question as she surveyed the scene before her—the haggard beastkin sitting in the dirt, surrounded by guards, and the faces of the villagers, tired but earnest.

Her eyes fell on Serrandyl, sitting slumped on the ground with her arms folded over her chest—she lifted her chin defiantly as their gazes met. For a moment, they studied each other in silence. Serrandyl's eyes glinted with anger and frustration, but beneath that was something else: Ebonheim saw a spark of doubt, perhaps even shame, flickering in those red eyes.

She turned away from Serrandyl to look at the rest of the captured would-be raiders. Their expressions mirrored Serrandyl's: the beastkin, despite their bravado, appeared to be thoroughly shamed and disappointed in themselves for their actions. Some even avoided meeting her gaze entirely.

One of them, a scrawny male with a scar over his brow—the one that pushed his other fellow earlier—raised his head. "So what're you going to do with us?" he asked, his voice loud and brash.

Engin gave him an appraising look. "Let's hear your side first," he said before turning his gaze on Serrandyl. "Would you like to speak?"

Serrandyl shook her head and glowered at him. "No."

Ebonheim approached Serrandyl and sat cross-legged before her. "Would you like to talk to me?" Ebonheim asked, studying her face and noting how blood still trickled from her nose. She reached out to touch Serrandyl's cheek with a gentle brush of her hand—the beastkin leader flinched and jerked her head away in response, but Ebonheim persisted and focused her divine power into healing her, the warmth of her palm spreading across the beastkin's face.

Serrandyl stared at her, eyes wide with surprise. She watched as Ebonheim's hand hovered over her skin, glowing with a faint light. "W-what?" she stammered.

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"Let's talk," Ebonheim said as she withdrew her hand, "before we decide on anything."

Serrandyl studied Ebonheim for a long moment, then let out a defeated sigh and nodded, "Alright."

Ebonheim turned back to the crowd as Thorsten moved to stand next to her—he studied Serrandyl with an appraising look, but said nothing as Ebonheim began to speak. "It seems like this could have turned out worse," she said, her voice light but firm, "but things have already gotten this far. I think we need to get to the root of this situation. Tell me, why did you do this?"

Serrandyl frowned for a moment before replying in a sullen tone, "Our tribe's territory was taken over by a stronger clan a few months ago." She gave Ebonheim a sideways glance. "We lost many members of our tribe to them and from the journey here. A bunch more things happened when we got here, so we couldn't settle for more than a few days at a time before moving along."

Ebonheim nodded in understanding, "Go on."

Serrandyl sighed again, this time with an air of frustration and indignation. "Hunting and foraging here is different from our land. We've had a hard time finding enough food to feed everyone. We didn't have much food to begin with—now we have even less."

Thorsten frowned. "And how does that involve our village?"

Serrandyl let out a huff of annoyance, then turned to him with a glare. "When we captured your hunters, we realized that there should be a village nearby. I figured that if you weren't strong enough to defend your food, you didn't deserve to have it."

Thorsten narrowed his eyes at her, but Ebonheim, sensing his rising ire, interrupted him before he could speak. "What does your tribe do now?" she asked with a sigh. "For food."

Serrandyl shrugged and answered in a resigned tone, "We hunt what we can for now, but the prey here are hard to hunt." Ebonheim could see her shoulders slumping with resignation as she said this. "We couldn't even go on a proper hunt in the southern part of the valley when we got here without risking our lives."

"Why not?" Ebonheim asked.

Serrandyl grimaced and studied Ebonheim before replying in a hesitant voice, "There are too many Kungwans to compete with there. You must know what I mean—the ones that live in the southern part of this valley."

Hilda spoke up then, her voice resonating with a quiet authority, "Yes. Some of their numbers have encroached on our territory as well. We do our best to keep them at bay, but they still cause a bit of trouble."

"And that's why I wanted to get our hands on your food," Serrandyl continued, "anything to help my tribe."

Ebonheim listened to Serrandyl's explanation, but frowned as she pondered her words. She turned to Thorsten, "What do you think?"

Thorsten gave Serrandyl an appraising look, then replied with a scowl, "This lot has caused a ruckus enough already. Fortunately, they didn't cause too much damage—aside from brawling with our guards and wrecking through several farmhouses, coops, and barns." He let out a heavy sigh and gave Ebonheim a troubled glance. "Though I can't say for certain what would've happened if they successfully made off with our food."

Ebonheim nodded in agreement, then turned back to Serrandyl, "So why didn't you just ask?"

Serrandyl raised an eyebrow and frowned. "What do you mean 'just ask'?" she asked in reply.

"If you needed help with food, then why didn't you ask for our help instead?" Ebonheim asked, a small smile on her face as she said this. "You wouldn't have had to go through all this."

Serrandyl's jaw went slack as she stared at Ebonheim in disbelief, "You wouldn't..." she started, her voice trailing off with confusion, "You can't be serious?"

Ebonheim blinked at Serrandyl's confusion and tilted her head at Thorsten. "Did I say something wrong?"

Thorsten chuckled and shook his head. "It's not you," he replied in a reassuring tone. "It's just, well..." his voice trailed off as he considered his words, then continued, "It's how we do things here. But most beastkin tribes, from what I gather, wouldn't even consider asking for help from someone they consider to be beneath them."

Ebonheim studied Serrandyl with a quizzical frown, then turned to Thorsten again. "Even though this was the first time we've met?"

Thorsten shrugged. "Maybe they don't think they can trust us."

Serrandyl interjected then with a frustrated sigh, "Look, raiding your village was my idea. You won the battle, and now you've captured us. It's your victory." A look of resolve settled on her face as she added in a firm tone, "I'll offer my head as an atonement, but let my warriors go back to the rest of our tribe."

There was an outburst of angry cries from the captured raiders at this statement: most protested vehemently at the offer, while others shot Serrandyl sullen glares. Reo was the first to stand, and he called out to Serrandyl with a snarl, "We're not going to leave without you! You are the Pridelord's eldest daughter!"

"You will if I say so," Serrandyl replied in a cold voice as she stared at Reo. "It is my decision."

"No!" Reo protested as he turned to Ebonheim, "This isn't right. Goddess, do what you will to the rest of us and let Serrandyl go!"

Another beastkin, a smaller male, stepped forward to stand beside Reo. "Let her go!" he said with a loud voice, "Please!"

Ebonheim's eyes widened at the sentiment from her captives; she looked up at Engin and Thorsten with a baffled expression. "Wait, when did I ever say that they had to die?!"

Thorsten scratched his beard and let out a chuckle. "Let's calm down now, eh?" he said as he placed a hand on Reo's shoulder and urged him to sit down. "No one's dying tonight, or any night, for that matter."

"He's right," Engin added. "This isn't how we handle these matters." He turned to Serrandyl with a solemn gaze. "Is there anything else you can tell us about your tribe?"

Serrandyl frowned in response to Engin's question, but her gaze softened as she thought on it for a moment before answering. "There are only a little over two hundred of us left," she said after a pause, "a lot of our number fell during our fight against another tribe." She bowed her head as she continued, "We've been surviving off small prey like rabbits and birds—tiny game to fill the bellies of our tribe."

Thorsten gave Serrandyl a sidelong glance and shook his head. "If that's true," he said with a resigned sigh, "then we can't turn a blind eye."

Ebonheim regarded Serrandyl for a long moment, then turned to her companions. "We should still help them," she said, "if only to help rebuild their tribe."

Engin nodded in agreement. "We can discuss details later," he replied. He studied Serrandyl for a moment before continuing. "As the leader of this village," he said with a sigh, "it is my duty to punish those who violate our laws. We cannot tolerate such behavior. But...given the situation," he paused for a moment before continuing, "it is in the best interest of the village to help rebuild their tribe. If you are to become our neighbors in the future, it's best to make amends and have friendly relations."

Serrandyl's eyes widened at Engin's words, but she said nothing as her expression softened with relief—she glanced around at the villagers gathered around them before looking back at Ebonheim. "So we can all go free?" she asked in a hesitant tone.

Ebonheim stood up and studied Serrandyl's face for a moment before nodding. "Not right away. Tonight, you'll stay where you are and reflect on your wrongdoings. The guards and I will keep watch." She glanced around at the gathered crowd and raised her voice as she spoke, "Expect to be punished for what you've done tonight, but we will help your tribe rebuild, as long as they help the village in turn. Is this clear?"

A chorus of affirmative voices answered her, even among the captured raiders. Ebonheim nodded at them. "We will work this out tomorrow," she said, "for now, just stay put here."

Serrandyl's eyes glistened with gratitude and relief. She bowed her head and replied in a respectful tone, "Thank you, goddess of this village."

Ebonheim studied Serrandyl for a moment, then nodded in reply and turned away from them to join Thorsten and the other elders. "Anyone else wants to join me in keeping watch?" she asked.

Engin rubbed his eyes and started walking back to his house, muttering to himself about having a talk with the villagers tomorrow morning. The rest of the elders and the gathered crowd followed suit, each shuffling off to return to their homes.

Thorsten placed a hand on Ebonheim's shoulder and chuckled as he said, "I'd join you, but I've got a few things I should take care of at home."

Ebonheim sighed and nodded. "Alright, alright. I'll take care of the rest."

Thorsten patted Ebonheim on the shoulder and gave her a wink before walking off. After a moment, he turned to Serrandyl and gave her a slight smirk. "As for you," he added, his voice low and gruff, "that was a good show back there. You're a strong warrior. Well fought."

Serrandyl's eyes went wide as Thorsten's words registered in her mind. She studied him with a wary glance before giving him a slow nod in reply.

Ebonheim yawned and looked up at the night sky, sighing once again. No sleep tonight, and tomorrow will be quite another exhausting day.