“...and then you found us and you know the rest,” I finish. Kalanthia looks at me steadily, silent for a few long moments. She’s been the perfect listener for the last half an hour or so. I didn’t leave anything out – not the attacks we encountered before reaching the lizard-folk’s village, nor the plan we enacted to get Lathani out. I didn’t even try to hide the discovery of the Energy-Heart cave, knowing that she would question their presence otherwise. I’m filled with shame as I retell how, despite being so cautious over my Bound’s reaction to Energy-Hearts, I made an even worse mistake. Retelling the battle with the lizogs and then our journey back finishes the tale.

You must have the luck of the gods. Or perhaps the favour of one. To have survived as many impossible situations as you did… She shakes her head as she finally comments. We’re sitting in the cave, the rain still pouring outside. The four raptorcats are also inside, the cubs playing happily with Lathani. I’m glad to see that the young nunda is back to her happy-go-lucky self. The lifting of the burden of worrying that she didn’t have a home to go back to has done her good.

River and Fenrir are both unbothered by the rain, and are still outside. I can sense that they haven’t gone far; River is in fact just outside the cave. I sense that his reasons for leaving the cave are different from Fenrir’s: the lizog just doesn’t like being confined for too long; the lizard-man is still very nervous about Kalanthia. I don’t blame him. I’m nervous about the conversation we need to have about him as well.

“Yeah, I recognise that I was pretty lucky to have survived the Pure Energy,” I admit, then decide to take the bull – or nunda – by the horns “but can you see how instrumental River was in getting Lathani, and us, out of danger?” I quail a little inside as Kalanthia’s lips pull back to bare her teeth and a fearsome snarl rumbles through the cave. It’s deep enough that I feel its throbbing within my chest. Her telepathic presence feels like a thundercloud gathering momentum ready to strike. For all that, I don’t sense any killing intent, not aimed at me, anyway.

He may have helped afterwards, but how can you defend what he did to my cub first? she demands, her voice a blast of scorching heat in my mind. I wince, hoping she’s not doing any actual telepathic damage – it feels like she could be.

“I’m not defending their actions -”

You set yourself between us yesterday, you advocate for him today, and you claim not to defend him? I ignore her interruption, carrying on like she hadn’t said anything. Normally, I wouldn’t have dared to do that, but I sense that River’s life is very much in the balance. Like I said to him last night, I will do my utmost to find a resolution that will not demand his death. Not even to save his village.

“- but he helped rescue Lathani. We might not have got her back if he hadn’t retrieved her, setting himself against his whole village in the process. And he’s expressed his regret for playing any part in what happened to her. Besides, he was not party to her initial kidnap and I believe it was the shaman and herbalist who did...what they did to make Lathani...grow.”

Grow, Kalanthia snorts, the incandescent rage in her eyes and body language fading to sadness. She breaks eye contact with me, twisting around to watch her cub, romping with the raptorcat cubs. Do you know what they’ve done to her, Markus Wolfe? She turns back towards me, the anger back. Yet, now I can see what it truly is: a deep sadness at what has befallen one she cares for deeply and a helpless rage that she was unable to stop it.

My heart aches in sympathy and I have to check an automatic response to reach out to her. I know the feeling, though as a parent, it must be even worse than what I went through. It’s Kalanthia’s duty to care for her cub; that she couldn’t, must be like acid eating away at her. The pain no doubt drives her to lash out at anyone she feels is linked to its cause. And River, much as I hate to admit it, is responsible, though only in small part. That doesn’t mean I want to see him torn limb from limb, though.

“I don’t really know,” I admit, answering her question. ”Something about taking power from her spirit?”

That’s one way of putting it, she agrees grimly. Another is stealing the potential of the future to give power in the present. I frown.

“I don’t understand.”

Clearly, she comments cuttingly, or you would not defend one who has done this to my cub. To put it in blunt words, the lizard-folk have taken years from Lathani’s life, years she will never get back. They have used those years to fuel unnatural growth, giving Lathani power which she has not yet earned. It’s potent magic; and potent magic always has a grave cost.

“How do you know?” I ask, my mouth dry. That sounds...serious.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen this, Kalanthia replies, her eyes suddenly distant. Images flicker into my mind, images of darkness, of pain, and fear. Of loss. And then the images are gone, like Kalanthia hadn’t meant to send them and has now taken herself in hand. Or paw. Her mien firms and her telepathic presence gives off the sense of implacability. A wrong has been done, one that can only be cleansed in blood. Not only for the past sins, but also to prevent them from happening again in the future.

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I don’t know what to say. Those images very much felt like it wasn’t just ‘seeing’ something similar happen; it feels like the experience was far more personal to her. And now it’s happened to her cub. If I was her, I’d be raging at the world, wanting to kill everyone who did the terrible deed to her cub, and more. She’s also right about preventing this happening again in the future: everything I learned in the lizard-folk’s village points to them being very cavalier about the rights of any creatures other than their own people: their intention to imprison and deprive me of basic necessities until I became willing to craft for them was proof of that.

But I can’t just step aside and let her take out that anger on River. He’s my Bound; he’s under my protection. And even if I manage to make him the exception to her slaughter, he’s made it clear that he won’t be able to just stand by and watch his village be destroyed. Heck, our initial agreement was all about him sacrificing his own freedom for the benefit of his village. I shift in place, my mind racing. What can I say? Is there anything I can suggest which could be a path forward? My mind races, but comes up blank again and again.

Suddenly a shape approaches, dripping water. I look up from my seated position – it’s River. Grim determination is in his eyes and firmly there in the Bond. I scramble to my feet as I realise what is in his mind, our conversation yesterday ringing clearly through my mind.

“No,” I say to him firmly, though desperation rings more clearly than authority in my voice. “We’ll find another way. I promise.” The way my voice breaks slightly on the last word must reveal more than I’d like about my doubts. Gratitude comes across the Bond from River, even as his spikes roll gently with green-tinged yellow. There’s no shift to his determination, however.

Markus...master, thank you. I appreciate your protection, but I must ask your permission to do this.

“I thought I asked you not to call me that?” I say weakly, some small part of me hoping that by diverting his attention I might be able to stop this. It was a poor attempt which goes nowhere: he ignores me and continues speaking.

I am beset with guilt and must own up to my own deeds. I played a part in Lathani’s transformation; I must bear the burden of its consequences.

“The smallest part!” I object.

A part nonetheless, he refutes my attempts to absolve him of blame. I grimace and look away for a moment.

“How does this solve anything?” I ask finally, my voice quiet, grief already filling me. River seems to sense my acceptance of his wish to do this, and although sadness rises within him as well, his determination is not diminished in the slightest; if anything, it becomes firmer.

As I said before, if my blood can wash away the sins of my village, I will sacrifice myself willingly. All I hope is that my service to you has been sufficient so far to ask you to continue seeking a way to eliminate the threat the Forest of Death poses to my Tribe.

“I will,” I promise him, sighing as I realise that this is going to happen whether I want it to or not. For all that he still sometimes calls me ‘master’, that’s not who I want to be to him. And if all I am is the leader of his party, then who am I to dictate what he does with his life? Even if he’s hellbent on ending it. There’s a beat of silence as he just looks at me.

After a moment, I realise that right at the beginning, he talked about seeking my ‘permission’. Grumpily, I just wave my hand and then step back and cross my arms. I have a feeling that the Bond probably better communicates my mixed emotions over it all: the desire for it not to be happening at all, the sadness that it seems to be going forward anyway, and my acceptance of his choice. Either way, my ‘permission’ seems sufficiently communicated.

With a flash of sadness mixed with pride over the Bond, River lifts his chin high in the air and sends a final message to me.

It has been an honour to fight beside you, Markus Wolfe, he tells me formally. My posture softens a little as I respond.

“And you too, Runs-with-the-river.” The equivalent emotion of a sad smile flashes across the Bond to me, and then he turns away. As he steps towards Kalanthia, I refuse to look away: if he’s walking towards his execution, I owe him to watch every moment of it.

River looks so small against Kalanthia’s bulk, especially since she’s now on her feet. He’s not much shorter than me, but his head barely comes halfway up her chest. Her jaws could end him in a moment, a single snap enough to behead him. Even had he had his spear, he wouldn’t have stood a chance, but he’s left the spear somewhere else. Probably in my alcove. I could stop this, even now. Or, rather, I can’t affect Kalanthia in any way, but I could order River to run. I have to fight against my urge to do just that, but with over forty effective Willpower points, it’s significantly easier to take control over my own desires.

To force River away from this path would be a betrayal. I had my chance to forbid it, to withhold my permission. But then I would genuinely have acted as his master. Now, funnily enough, I reckon that using the Bond to potentially save his life would actually be worse than forcibly dominating him with Bond in the first place would have been. He’s made a decision; to force him to act otherwise would be a travesty. Even if that means he dies today.

It’s hard to stand and watch, but I imagine it must be even harder for River, standing in front of the massive predator as he is – the ‘Great Predator’, as he knows her by. Pausing in front of the adult nunda, easily within her attack range, he sinks to his knees, his long-toed feet splaying out awkwardly behind him, his chin raised high in the air. It’s a very vulnerable pose: there’s no easy or quick way out of it. I have no doubt that it was chosen exactly for that reason.

I kneel before you Great Predator, representative of my Tribe. We are guilty of crimes against your cub, and repentant. I wish to make whatever small amends I can for myself and my people. He snaps his jaws slightly, his nerves clearly taking over in that one moment. Even if I hadn’t been able to read that much in his body language, the emotions leaking over the Bond would allow it. Even without the Bond, I’m sure that Kalanthia can also pick up on his fear. If my blood is what it takes to assuage your rage and wash our guilt clean, I offer it freely. Even my life is yours for the taking, should you demand it.