“What?” River can’t help but ask, his tail shifting from side to side in cautious surprise.

“You took the cub! You stole it. Ancestors only know why, but you took it. Days of effort, weeks of preparation…gone.” She chatters her teeth again and her eyes gleam wildly with anger and something else. “That creature was powerful. By focussing its potential into the present, by redrawing its magical pathways into something far simpler, far more useful, I could have harnessed its spirit into something wonderful. Something no other village has. A shield, and a guardian.

“Nothing could have threatened us within the boundaries of our home. Nothing. But you stole it away, and so I have been forced to settle for weaker options. And since they’re weaker, and unprepared besides, I needed more spirits. Even all the hatchlings aren’t enough.”

“No, you wish to take the adults too, don’t you!” growls River, taking a step forwards to stare down at the slightly smaller Pathwalker. She growls too, the sound rumbling in her throat.

“Because I have to. Because they will all die otherwise. Because of you.” Hisses and clicks come from the group of villagers behind River. He hears the shift of bodies but can’t turn to look.

“You’re wrong!” he grunts loudly at Shaman. “There were other solutions. We could have moved -”

“And left our ancestors’ bones behind? Forsaken our territory? What solution is that?” cries Shaman angrily.

“And how was your solution any better?” demands River. “The moment our people kidnapped the Great Predator’s cub, we were sentenced to death! Her mother would have come to kill us all if you’d been allowed to finalise your plan.”

“Didn’t you hear me? She wouldn’t have been able to get in! The cub’s spirit, strengthened by our ancestors’ blessings, and the power over spirits that I wield, would have kept even the Great Predator at bay! We would have been safe from the Great Predator, from the Forest of Death, from anything which threatened us!”

There is the sound of murmuring behind River, but he still doesn’t look away from Shaman even to check whether he’s about to be attacked by his kin.

“And so what?” River asks with frustrated exasperation. “Were we to be prisoners within our own village? Caged in as we would do to a prey-beast? How long would we have survived with the Great Predator prowling around our boundary, killing any who left the shield? What would we have done when the vine-stranglers took over the whole forest around us? What sort of a plan is that?”

“The Great Predator would have given up when it found it couldn’t get in,” the Pathwalker dismissed. “We chased it away once; we would be able to do so again. It would have just been a matter of time.” She conveniently seems to forget the question about the Forest of Death.

“You are seriously underestimating just how strongly she feels about her cub,” River warns Shaman, then shakes his head in what he only realises afterwards is a very Markus gesture. “You have failed the people you were supposed to protect. You have brought us to the point of ruin several times. You are no longer fit to lead.”

The Shaman chatters again in angry amusement.

“And who is going to challenge me? You?”

“Yes,” answers River firmly, however much his spirit quailed within his breast at the very thought of it. The Pathwalker rears back, as if she wasn’t expecting him to actually go through with it.

“Sisters, Warriors, are you going to stand for this?” clicks Shaman incredulously. “A mere Unevolved, challenging me? Does this not make a mockery of everything we hold dear? And a traitor at that!”

For the first time, River dares to look backwards. There he sees that the whole village seems to have assembled to watch the events. Herbalist is missing, but a brief moment of searching proves that she’s still tending to the four adults who have not yet roused. At Shaman’s question, however, she pushes herself to her feet and comes to join the rest of the Pathwalkers.

The Warriors are in two groups, the Pathwalkers all together in a clump. The Unevolved adults are hanging back, filling the spaces between the three more distinct sections.

One of the Warriors steps forwards. He’s even bigger than Lee and River recognises him as Shrieks-loudly, the current top ranked Warrior, the leader of the male Evolved.

“The Warriors support Runs-with-the-river’s challenge,” he rumbles, even his tooth-clicks sounding more sonorous than anyone else’s.

“What?” Shaman asks faintly, sounding like she has taken a blow to the jaw. “How could you…”

“Do you remember what you said when the party came back from hunting the Great Predator’s cub? The single Warrior out of almost twenty?” Shrieks-loudly asks, sounding like he’s chewing stones. “That their sacrifice was worth it. That they would ensure the village would be safe forever.”

“And that’s exactly what would have happened if Runs-with-the-river hadn’t fled with the ancestor-damned cub!”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not. But your decision to sacrifice the hatchlings is one I wish I had never stood by to allow to happen. They may be weak and almost useless, but with no hatchlings, we will not replace our numbers of Warriors. The Warriors you threw away for a single cub.” He straightens again and steps back. “The Warriors support this challenge – we question your dedication to the village,” he says once more. “Let our ancient rituals decide the village’s fate, and who is in the right.”

The Shaman’s jaw hangs open and she looks wildly at the other Pathwalkers.

“Sisters, you cannot mean to let this happen? Allowing an Unevolved to challenge a Pathwalker? What next – a hatchling?” It’s a poor choice of words and River sees her realise that a moment after they’ve left her jaws. At the same time, he notes how the other Pathwalkers straighten and stiffen.

“We too have doubted your recent decisions,” Herbalist says levelly. “I, for one, have only gone along with it because I believed it to be the best course of action. I no longer believe that.”

“And what has changed?” demands Shaman, her eyes gleaming brightly with anger – and what River suddenly realises is madness.

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“The Forest of Death is gone,” interjects Joy levelly. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Gone? It can’t be gone,” denies Shaman weakly. “And if it is, then we must defend against whatever it is that destroyed it – it must be a most powerful foe.” River and Joy exchange glances and River is almost surprised to see a hint of amusement in the bound Pathwalker’s eyes.

“Sister, why are you arguing so much?” Wind-whisperer asks, clearly irritated. “We understand how humiliating it is to be forced to fight an Unevolved, as if he is an equal. But just destroy him and be done with it. Do it fast enough or gruesomely enough and no one will dare try it again in the future.”

“That’s true,” admits Shaman, turning her gaze to River. He almost recoils at the menace gleaming within the orbs. “Very well. I will entertain this ridiculous challenge, just to prove to all of you that there should be none.”

Pulling his spear from his back, River sends an order to Peace, an instruction he probably should have given before now. Due to the heightened emotions caused by the situation, he had briefly forgotten that he could send messages to the other Bound.

“Commence,” says Shrieks-loudly, his clicks clear in the air.

River strikes at Shaman with all the speed and power he had built in the time sparring with his master and other Bound. Ending this battle as quickly as possible has to be his best strategy.

After all, he has never seen a ranking fight – the Unevolved are not allowed to watch them – but he knows that Shaman must be powerful, being the undefeated champion for the last four years.

Unfortunately, Shaman is used to quicker and more powerful spear strikes than River can produce. She sidesteps his blow.

Redirecting his strike, he attacks her again. She dodges once more. The next time, he tries to feint, and then strikes where he thinks she will be a moment later. She somehow knows that it's a feint, and goes in exactly the opposite direction than he had thought she would.

She scoffs in disgust.

“This is my challenger?” She shows her contempt by daring to look away from River and at her sisters. “This is simply humiliating. I don’t even need to use my powers to defeat this imbecile.”

River feels his anger grow within him at her dismissal. Seeing as she’s still looking away from him, he takes advantage of it to bodily throw himself at her.

This, she is not expecting, and she is unable to completely avoid it – his whole body covers much more space than his spearpoint. She manages to avoid part of his attack by moving back swiftly, but he succeeds in raking his claws down her front.

Her scales are thinner than his own and peel under his attack. With a hint of satisfaction, River knows that she now has some of his venom in her system too.

The battle pauses for a moment as she stares down at the sluggishly bleeding gashes now marring her chest.

“How dare you?!” she practically shrieks, her grunts higher pitched than River has ever heard one of his kin make. “I’m going to tear you apart!”

Even as River tries to leap forward again, Shaman makes sounds which throb oddly in his ears. Suddenly, he feels something close around his wrist, then something else around his opposite ankle. Then, abruptly, they start to pull.

River fights back against them, but the tension refuses to slacken. With his free hand, he tries to push whatever it is away, but it’s like nothing exists there – his claws just pass through open air.

The opposing pulls are threatening to throw him completely off balance – only his free foot and tail are keeping him upright. The tension is becoming painful as his body protests. His mind works busily.

The Shaman is known for her work with spirits. Is that what this is? Are there spirits trying to literally tear him apart? He darts a look at Shaman, seeing her stare down at him with amusement and satisfaction playing across her spikes, visible even in the low light.

And what can he do against spirits, if that’s indeed what they are? Is this why Shaman has beaten all, even the greatest of Warriors?

Another band wraps itself around his free wrist, a fourth around his other ankle. Abruptly, he is no longer even in contact with the ground – the spirits are holding him above it and pulling. The Shaman steps lightly, close enough to him that he would easily be able to stab her – if his limbs were not completely immobile.

“It’s a pity, Runs-with-the-river,” Shaman clicks with regret – he can’t tell if it is genuine or not. “You had so much potential.” Her eyes glint oddly, and the sight sets off the anger within River again.

Is this to be how it ends? Torn into pieces by things he can’t even see? Abandoning his people to Shaman’s poor decisions?

No. River refuses to give up now. Not when there’s still something he can do.

Ever since the Egg-rise after they’d killed the danaris, he has felt something inside him, something waiting for him to call on it. And now, he beckons it.

Heat builds greater and greater in his chest, scorching at his throat. When it feels like his body will be consumed by the fire, he opens his jaws and lets it pour out.

The fire spills out of his mouth, licking eagerly at Shaman’s face. She shrieks, a high-pitched noise which pierces his ears. The bonds holding him fall away and he tumbles to the ground. The flames run out quickly: his mana pool is much smaller than Bastet’s, but it is enough to free him.

Now would be a perfect time to attack, but he can do no more than rake at her again before she stumbles away, out of reach, the fire already done.

All his joints aching, his throat and mouth raw and burnt, he pushes himself to his feet.

The Shaman glares at him, absolutely fury filling her eyes. She starts making those disconcerting noises again, and River knows he has moments before he’s wrapped in spirits again. But now he has a weapon against them.

Peace, toss me the torch, he orders. The Warrior obeys immediately. From the look of him, he’d been lingering uneasily at the edge of the crowd, not sure what to do. The torch arcs through the air towards River.

He manages to catch it. Just in time – he feels the sensation of the spirits try to grasp him around the ankles again. Gripping the wooden handle, River waves the head of the torch through the space, forcing the spirits to let go. He looks at the furious Shaman, sure that his face must be a rictus of glee, his spikes practically overflowing with his pleasure at her failure.

“You think that is my only trick?” The Pathwalker laughs angrily, her face marked by the flames which had so recently wreathed them. “You will die screaming.” Once more, she speaks those odd sounds which make River uncomfortable. Pushing through the discomfort, he attempts to attack the Pathwalker, but he finds himself slowed. It’s like he’s walking through mud.

With the torch, he waves at his legs. It helps, but only for moments. It’s like the spirit shifts back while the torch is in the way, but fills the space again once it has moved. River sets his teeth and moves doggedly on. If only he can get close enough to Shaman to stab…but she is not willing to let that happen.

Abruptly, the situation changes, and not for the better.

One moment he is swinging the torch before his knees, his mind working busily to try to work out another approach – perhaps he should try throwing stones at her? The next, a force strikes him on the wrist. It’s a precise, hard blow which numbs his wrist.

He inadvertently drops the torch, and then another force knocks him sprawling. He’s pinned once more. This time, he’s completely enveloped in the spirits – they are apparently not willing to take any chances this time. Even his mouth is being pinned shut, though he can still breathe. Not that they need to worry – he senses that he will not be able to repeat the same feat.

The Shaman approaches him again, this time a little more warily. She holds a long knife in her claws. Apparently she doesn’t want to sully herself with his blood.

She lifts the knife high, then pauses for a moment, as if considering whether to say something more. To gloat, perhaps.

And then she jerks.

River looks at her in confusion. Her head looks different. There is a growth from it, something long that has abruptly appeared from her mouth. Not her tongue. With no warning, the spirits let go of him, vanishing like they were never there.

Suddenly, River realises what it is. Without a second more of hesitation, he surges upwards and rips out Shaman’s throat with his teeth.