"They're going to get butchered," dropped Sonya, staring at the road below.

She and Aranea stood on cliffs overlooking the gorge, which had been converted for training purposes and was full of sticking out jagged rocks that served both as cover and obstacles. Yellow covered most of the visible surfaces because, instead of using live ammunition, the Wolfkins team wielded training shardguns loaded with paint.

The shaman entered the road snaking through the gorge, naked, her black fur giving her a resemblance to a shade stepped straight from a mystical tale. Yellow paint colored the length of her claws, kept liquid and sticky for the next half an hour by the engineers' invention. Two Wolfkins attempted to hide near large boulders ahead while Leila stood tall on a rock, baiting the shaman into action. Similar to Scarred One, the half-wyrm decided against taking any armor, and red paint colored her claws.

Tiny and Gin stepped out of the shadows, planning to sneak up on the approaching opponent from behind. The Wolfkins were in full gear, yet it would give them no advantage over the oversized talons of the ancient woman.

"We don't know that. Maybe Leila has some actual plan," Aranea said, doubtful. Basic, too clear. Her 'superior' supposedly had years of combat experience. Spirits, she had sparred by her side! The half-wyrm wasn't half bad. So why such an obvious ploy here?

Today's goal lay in dealing 'lethal' damage or injury to the opposition. At first glance, Scarred One was at a disadvantage. No ranged weapon to use; she could not use her fangs since no paint coated them; no armor. And yet she was a shaman, a fighter who fought and survived Houstad, a hero of the Tribe, with heightened senses of smell and hearing and with speed dwarfing that of most troops.

Outnumbered, but far from being outclassed.

"I blame you," Sonya said, not growling or letting anger in her voice. She pointed at the shaman entering the clearing and approaching Leila. "All new wolf hags make this exact mistake. Really, what are they supposed to do? We gave them mines, but I can smell them from here. Impossible to sneak up, no way to out-gun the encroaching threat… We should've been there, playing the role, not here. Giving unsolvable tasks is fitting for a punishment but otherwise is unfair. Watch and learn from your mistake. We'll have to restore morale later."

Leila hopped from the stones, flapping her wings in preparation to swoop at the shaman.

No, you stupid! Almost shouted Aranea, forcing herself to be silent. Scarred One promised to go easy during the training. Perhaps they have a chance…

Scarred One somersaulted as Leila's claws neared her snout and shot her leg up, aiming for the half-wyrm's exposed belly. The wings hit the air, carrying their owner to the right, and arms wrapped around the shaman, throwing her off balance. Scarred One landed on her palms as Leila retreated with small yellow marks on her right shoulders in the place where the woman's claws had grazed her. The soldiers hiding behind the boulder sprang into action and took aim, convinced that their opponent's attention was focused on their leader.

They were wrong. Scarred One bounced out of place toward them akin to a cannonball, traveling in a straight line. Red paint splashed onto the rocks where she had stood a moment earlier, and her legs already sheared the tops of the boulders near the Wolfkins, sending pebbles drumming onto their plates. As the soldiers tried to gain distance and shoot, the black shape rose behind them, touching their necks and coloring them yellow. Both soldiers lowered their weapons and hung their heads in disappointment. Aranea didn't blame them. Their opponent's pure speed had left them no chance.

The shaman jumped over the Wolfkins, charging at Leila. The half-wyrm staggered back, trying to reunite with Gin and Tiny, causing Aranea to frown. Is she panicking? This will expose them. Scarred One will sense them from up close. The shaman caught up with her prey. Leila's right arm hung helplessly in accordance with the war-game rules. The theoretical slash was supposed to immobilize the hand, so it was out of use.

Leila landed, and her form blurred, evading a stab coming at her chest and counterattacking with her left so fast that it forced the shaman to dodge. Sonya whistled in astonishment, watching the opponents locked in equal combat. Scarred One restrained herself, not utilizing any of the mortal potential of her claws and fangs to their fullest. She pulled back her punches before they could shatter bones or tear muscles. But her speed remained the same. And neither one could surpass the other.

Pushing their bodies to their limits, the women disappeared in a hurricane of slashes, punches, and kicks, fighting for several minutes. A slipped hand or a missed paw often opened up yawning holes in the gorge's slope. No strike had landed, to Aranea's shock. It couldn't last. Leila, lacking the experience, went for the exposed neck and had her wrist caught. An uppercut headed for her jaw, but the tail wrapped around the shaman's elbow, stopping it.

Not planning to miss such an opportunity, Scarred One kicked at Leila's stomach. And it was at that moment that Tiny and Gin hurled mines at the combatants, using them as grenades. The kick landed first, forcing Leila to loosen her hold. Scarred One's eyes widened, noticing the mines around. They exploded, hiding the half-wyrm in a thick cloud of reddish smoke, while the shaman had already jumped, escaping the worst at the cost of having her leg covered in crimson. With a snarl, she landed on three limbs and raced toward the retreating Wolfkins, raising her right paw. As they took a step back, Scarred One leaped.

Aranea clenched her fists, daring to believe.

Gin positioned himself in front of Tiny, taking the blow to his chest while his partner's shardgun slipped under his shoulder. In a real fight, the stab would have speared through his cranium and reached the person he was protecting. However, forced to operate within the limits of the match, Scarred One deflected the strike to avoid maiming the male. A scowl spread across her snout; muscles bulged from the frustration boiling within her. She could not dodge in time, and the shardgun barked, covering her side in red.

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Two legs, two columns of darkness, passed by the soldiers' sides and plunged into the ground, stopping Scarred One's collision with the Wolfkins. She rose, gave Tint a long look, glanced at Gin's yellow chest, then checked her hide. At last she nodded, acknowledging the mortal wound. She pointed her fingers at her forehead to the warrior's—no, the scout's—confusion. Then Tiny shook her head in refusal. With a grin, Scarred One stole the shardgun from the scout and fired it into her own snout, splashing red all the way to the ears.

"A reminder of my miscalculation," she said, handing the weapon back. She ignored Leila's raised hand and patted the first two Wolfkins, stopping to give them pointers.

Overflowing with joy at the success of their plan, Leila scooped Tiny and Gin in an embrace, hugging them closer.

"No! My armor! No!" Tiny screeched, trying in vain to escape as the paint covered her plates and fur in bright patches. "I cleaned it yesterday! Damn it!"

Aranea smiled, slapping Sonya on her shoulder.

"Yeah, I was wrong. Bite me. I accept them. No one is going to argue." She stepped down, landing near the new scout, and shook their paws, while the shaman looked with disapproval at her exchanging handshakes with Leila.

She didn't even twitch as Aranea landed next to her shoulder.

"You disapprove." There were no accusations in her voice. It was simply a statement of fact.

"Yes," Scarred One said. "She is strong; I admit this. Had we both gone all out, I might've had my hide raked. Yet, what is happening right now is an aberration. We never meant to spread our traditions to outsiders or to take them in. Much less give them any authority within the Tribe. Even with the warlord's approval, it is dangerous. For many reasons."

"But they defeated you. The strong rule, and the weak obey. This is who we are, isn't it?" Aranea teased and playfully elbowed the shaman under her ribs. "Or could it be that you are unhappy because it is your turn to sacrifice, to tolerate? Maybe you fear for your position…"

"You do not know what I sacrificed for the Tribe, Wolf Hag," Scarred One interrupted her, losing her typical calmness. She wiped the paint off her ocular, looking at Aranea without malice in her natural eye. "Life is a series of ups and downs. So long as we keep walking, we can stand up again. I'll endure this humiliation and adapt."

"Of course I do not know," Aranea eagerly agreed. "You never tell us anything about yourself. We're supposed to be family, yet you've shown contempt for certain members and have only participated in one shared task with a single kin so far. That's not a way to treat a sister, unless you want to become the kind of bitch who raised Kate. By the way, if you don't express any sign of familiarity to our newest family member, she might face rejection from the rest."

The shaman snorted and stomped back to the crowd, offering her paw to Leila.

"You are… adequate. With proper guidance, you can harness your anger enough to beat me." The shaman spoke gravelly, forcing sentences out of the throat. Leila ignored the paw and hugged the shaman, causing her to growl. Ignoring the familiarity, Scarred One stared at Tiny. "I have no clue how you pulled that off. I knew you were hiding behind Gin, and still I forgot. It was as if only he had a beating heart. You won, fair and square, but what exactly did you do?"

"It is a technique that Lady Valerye taught me." Scarred One raised her brow, and Tiny continued. "I met her as a cub. She noticed me since we are both small-sized, and so I don't feel bad she demonstrated several tricks to me. It took me months of constant training, but thanks to her mentorship I can completely erase my presence from your senses. You know I am here, yet to you I'm not here. Because I direct no animosity and experience no fear or bloodlust. I am just a statue, a part of the background, a discarded corpse; how can I be a threat?" She sighed. "Doesn't work that often, because I lose my composure."

"A warlord bestowed her attention upon you? And Valerye, of all people? A fine deed if so. It seems she is recovering from heartlessness and inner turmoil." The shaman pulled Leila close, took her by the shoulders, and hugged her. Leila gasped, and a loud crack passed through the air. She jerked frantically, trying to break free. "You truly are blessed, compact one. Never let your height shame you, for the Spirits walk beside us, judging our deeds and not hating our physical limitations. Rage against the world, and you too can achieve your dreams."

"Please, don't hurt…" Tiny tried to mediate and stopped when Leila wrapped her arms around the shaman's back.

The two slammed their foreheads together, producing a loud bang. Veins appeared through Leila's bodysuit, Scarred One adjusting her arms, letting the wings remain free. The fur parted, giving way to sizeable bulges of tanned skin. They stared at each other, unblinking and splintering stone with their feet.

"Don't worry, Tiny," Leila said, sweating. A glow appeared in her eyes. "There's nothing better to get to know one another than a casual hug."

"I'm building bonds with an unexpected kinswoman, so to speak," the shaman coughed out, straining her arms to break the opposition. "To get an idea of where she stands…'

"Take care, Granny; at your age, it's dangerous to overexert yourself. You may get cramps from stretching too much and not sleeping enough. I can give you a soothing massage afterwards." Leila smiled. The corners of her lips twitched.

"Cubs these days. Scared at the idea of putting in even a modicum of effort. I had the privilege of having the finest masseur work on my back…"

"Wait, no bullshit?"

"Shamans never lie. I can tell you how it happened during a bedtime story to lift your mood once you surrender."

The wolf hag could practically hear the bones crunching. Both were giving their all, their muscles contorting and shifting under their skin and scales. Aranea wanted to stop them, but Sonya took her by the paw.

"They are not hurting each other on purpose," she whispered. "Besides, you can smell the wyrm spawn's curiosity from here. She wants to know who is stronger. Look at her eyes."

That's precisely what I am worried about. Leila's eyes glowed, shining brighter and brighter. Her control was slipping, similar to that accident in Wyrm Lord's chamber. Any second now, her power could break loose, and then…

Leila unhanded her opponent and raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. Frowning, the shaman released her, and the half-wyrm sat down, covering her face.

"My bad! Too excited. You won; I really need to rein it in," Leila told the puzzled Scarred One, who loudly demanded her to keep on going. "No, no, you really have won. It's my loss. Wow, you're strong."

"Stop lying, damn it!" The shaman snarled, her jaws snapping near Leila's ear, her paws twitching with an urge to issue a domination challenge. "I sense it! You could go further, much further. I hear disappointment in your voice; you desired to go all out, to let loose. Do it! Indulge your primal instinct, abandon your ridiculous pity toward a fellow pack member, and face me, body and soul!"

The half-wyrm kept smiling, covering the upper part of her face. Tiny approached her and massaged her temples, purring that there was nothing to worry about. The shaman knelt, asking if Leila was sick. Aranea noted that Tiny's method seemed to be working; the intense light visible between her fingers paled.

Is it wise to put Leila in a leadership position, considering her… handicap? She asked herself. Shouldn't be a problem, dumbass. In the field she can wear a helmet. Her plan worked, but technically speaking there was only one survivor. If I had done so, Sonya would have skinned me alive, and I would've offered her a knife myself. Sole survivor against a shaman, fool. If that's not a legendary feat, then you're deluding yourself and looking for flaws in her on purpose.

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