By the time River emerges with Joy and Herbalist following closely behind, there is already a murmur going throughout the area, unusual for this time of night. Returning to the main area, River sees a number of groups which wouldn’t be out of place close to Egg-rise or dark fall, but under the Spirit’s Eyes looks very strange indeed.

The Unevolved are mostly sitting in groups, figures moving between each of the groups with regularity. Near the gates is a small clump of Warriors, clear even in the low light by their distinctive body types. Another small group is huddled together just outside one of their communal huts.

River can only see one Pathwalker other than the two next to him and at this distance, he can’t identify who it is. Perhaps Wind-Whisperer.

“Weaver, let us go and talk to our sisters,” murmurs Herbalist. River glances back to catch Joy eyeing him warily.

Go with her, he says, sending the Pathwalker under his control a private message. Let me know if she does what she said she was going to do. He feels a wrench inside at the thought of doubting Herbalist – the Pathwalker had done so much for him, after all. But his loyalties are elsewhere now, and until his master comes and takes over, he will have to be on his guard.

Joy eyes him for a moment longer, then twitches her jaw upwards almost imperceptibly in silent acknowledgement. River fancies he feels a slight hint of appreciation that he’d at least kept the order silent this time.

“Yes, let us go, sister,” Joy agrees with Herbalist and they hurry off to the Pathwalker standing in the shadows.

River takes a moment to check in with the rest of his group.

Lee, how is it going with the Warriors? Are you making any progress? There is a moment of silence but River doesn’t doubt that he’s been heard. He might think that he’s being ignored except that the feeling emanating from Lee’s side of the Bond is one of distraction.

While waiting for Lee to get back to him, River sends the same message to the other Unevolved. Breaks-a-claw is the one who replies. It’s not too surprising – he’s a rather silent villager, one who listens far more than he speaks. Where the others may be involved in discussions, he’s probably just sitting and listening.

They are groggy, Breaks-a-claw says. Some worse than others. We haven’t been able to rouse about four of the adults and they don’t look good. I see you have convinced Herbalist – perhaps she could look at them.

Can you see any marks on them? Are they injured? asks River with concern, already starting to walk over to Herbalist.

They look…hungry. Injured, no. But tired. Their scales are drawn tightly on their bones. The ones who are best off have more meat on their bones, but everyone seems to be fatigued. More so than we would expect from being awake at this point in the night.

And mentally? How are their minds?

It is mixed, but I think they are all afraid. I think they are only just starting to remember what happened to the hatchlings. Some are resigned, others angry. Two have already tried to leave to bring Shaman – they think she is doing the right thing.

Do they know that they were next to be sacrificed?

Yells-a-curse told them, group by group. A few have said they don’t believe him, but I think that almost all of them do. They…they don’t know what to do. They need the Pathwalkers to give them direction. Or the Warriors.

River stops next to Herbalist, a feeling in his stomach as if he has swallowed the torch he instead left near Herbalist’s hut – he had estimated that holding it would bring too much attention to him and could derail the efforts of the rest of the group to convince the others in the village. After all, he’s a known ‘traitor’.

This close, he can see that the other Pathwalker is indeed Wind-whisperer. The three of them have been joined by two more – Grower and Wood-shaper. With Mover having been killed when River and Markus had run away the last time, that means all Pathwalkers except for Shaman are present.

Once, River would have either basked or quailed at the regard of all five of them turning to look at him, depending on whether it was for a good or bad reason. Now, however, he has eyes only for Herbalist.

“The Unevolved are in a poor state,” he says neutrally, only a hint of the anger he feels inside colouring his scales. “They would appreciate your attention, Herbalist.”

The other Pathwalkers – except for Joy, of course – hiss in anger at his disrespect. He feels a hint of air movement around his spikes as Wind-whisperer calls on her gift.

Perhaps he should be afraid, but he’s too angry to be such. Instead, he just stares around the group, meeting their eyes one by one with his own livid gaze. These are supposed to be the kin who protect and grow the village. That’s why they are given their positions of honour, fed the best food, obeyed instantly by any of the village.

Yet they have betrayed that, allowing one of their number to use hatchlings as sacrifices. Even if they didn’t know what Shaman planned with the adults, to have stood by and allowed any of the village to be killed in the pursuit of power is a betrayal.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Perhaps the Pathwalkers read his thoughts in his gaze or in the emotions he cannot keep from his spikes. Either way, the wisps of wind playing about his scales vanish and the Pathwalkers look away from him.

River turns his head to see Herbalist staring at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Will you help?” he asks her, almost daring her to say no. She tilts her head to one side gently, then brings it back to centre.

“They are probably fatigued from the ritual,” she replies after a moment. “It is normal. They will recover in time.”

“Four cannot be roused,” River tells her abruptly, gesturing to the group of villagers sitting around four prone shapes, unable to stop his teeth from chattering a little in his anger. “Is that what you consider normal?” Herbalist startles a little, her tail twitching.

“They should not be that fatigued, no,” she admits.

“Then you will investigate?” River growls, a restless energy going through his body which makes his claws tap on the ground.

“I will,” Herbalist agrees. “Sisters, remember my words,” she warns them, then bustles off, immediately moving to the group River had gestured towards. The four other Pathwalkers look at him with varying emotions.

“So, you think you can just walk back in here and start ordering everyone around,” starts Wind-whisperer angrily, “you, an Unevolved!”

“Sister,” interrupts Joy. “I’ve told you – he represents a power we did not expect.”

“And where is this power?” demands Wood-shaper. “Why is it not here representing itself?”

“My master will come when he comes,” says River flatly, cutting in. “Do I have your agreement that you will not interfere when we deal with Shaman?”

The three non-bound Pathwalkers hiss again in anger.

“The temerity of him,” Wood-shaper says, Wind-whisperer agreeing. Grower, however, appears to be watching him with more calculation, sending glances to Joy every so often. Joy, of course, is silent, her expression carefully neutral. “Speaking to us with such little respect. And he, an ancestor-damned traitor.”

“I speak to you with as much respect as is due to Pathwalkers who have failed their people,” River tells them levelly, not allowing the fire flaring in his belly to come out in his voice or spikes. “Now, do you agree to not support Shaman? Or do you hold with her plan to kill five of our number before Egg-rise?”

The two more vociferous Pathwalkers look like they’re biting back words, closing their mouths tightly rather than letting their teeth click together and accidentally letting out their thoughts.

“We will stand back and watch Shaman punish you,” Wind-whisperer says more than a little spitefully after a moment, Wood-shaper tilting her head in agreement. “For what you did to our sister Mover, and for your attempts at rebellion now. Because we know what this is! It's a rebellion against all that is right and good!”

“We did not agree with Shaman’s idea,” says Grower, speaking for the first time, her level voice cutting through the rest of them. “But we saw no other option. Think of us as you will, Runs-with-the-river, but do not forget that we have always sought the good of the village – while you only weakened us by bringing the prey beast into our midst that killed our sister.”

Oddly enough, that does cool the fire a little in River’s belly. He had been so angered at the idea that his defenceless brethren were being taken to feed Shaman’s desire for power that he had forgotten why the Pathwalkers would have agreed to it. However, while the fire has cooled, it has left behind a residue not unlike the ashes of a real fire – the determination to see that his people won’t have to make that sort of choice again.

“What is the trouble?” a voice asks. One with an unmistakable click of authority. Everyone goes silent and turns to look at the origin of the sound. Even in the darkness, Shaman is unmistakable.

She’s not wearing her usual decorations, her spikes looking bare without adornment, her scales looking oddly naked. Like when River spies his master bathing and sees vulnerable skin which is usually hidden away.

Lee, are the Warriors willing to stay neutral? River demands of the Evolved. Because if they aren’t….

As long as we don’t all pile on Shaman, they will not attack, he answers, sounding a little harried. In the light of current circumstances, they are willing to see it as a ranking challenge, but that means that whoever faces Shaman will be on his own. I…I really don't think I could win against her, he admits, shame filtering across the Bond from him.

It’s fine, River tells him with a hint of resignation. He is the leader of the group – Unevolved or not, it is up to him to confront the enemy.

“I asked a question,” continues Shaman after several long beats of silence. Everyone seems fixed in place, like hatchlings quailing before the gaze of some powerful beast.

River breathes in and out slowly, steeling himself. Abruptly, he wishes that he hadn’t left the torch by Herbalist’s hut. The reasons had seemed good at the time, but he would appreciate having its comforting heat now. And the reminder of all that has changed in recent times.

Stepping forwards, he comes close enough to see the faintest hints of the colour spilling across Shaman’s spikes. Recognition lights her eyes.

“Runs-with-the-river. You have returned.” She seems confused, looking around at the other villagers. River watches her in silence. He could take advantage of her confusion to strike the first blow, but that is not their way. Not if the Warriors wish to make this a ranking fight. Foul play will probably see them stepping in to defend Shaman.

Even if he was confident he could kill the Pathwalker in one blow, which he isn’t, he only has two Warriors and a Pathwalker under his command. With another nine Warriors unbound, his chances of escaping with his life are slim. Escaping without any of his kin dying is even less likely, and he has no desire to spill his kin’s blood – that’s exactly where this all started. Except one necessary exception, unfortunately.

So he waits until Shaman is ready.

“Why are you unbound?” the Pathwalker asks him directly, after apparently not being able to answer her own question. “And why is everyone awake? It’s the middle of the night.”

“Why did you kill all the hatchlings of this generation that remained to the village?” River asks instead, ignoring her question. She doesn’t miss the disrespect – she’s far too observant for that. But, given the strange situation, she apparently decides to ignore it for now.

“Because I had to,” she clicks, hissing through her teeth. “Do you think I wanted to?” River doesn’t respond, doesn’t know how to respond. She chatters her teeth in angry laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re outraged at what I have had to do? It’s your fault!”