Chapter 26: Seize Her!

"No!"

Vaelira shook her head, fingers digging into the pelts of her bedding as if to end the matter with that single word. Looking up at the women standing before her, however, she found faces where disbelief was fast giving way to open fury instead of the obedience she expected.

Selka bristled, her fox ears swiveling forward as she stared at the shaman, disbelieving that after every explanation she had still met a flat refusal.

"Why, Grand Shaman? You know the women have nothing to eat, yet you still believe that cursed warrior!" she burst out, stabbing a finger toward the cave mouth. "Instead of hunting food, we comb the woods hauling dirt for her, and you still let her do whatever she pleases with us!"

Vaelira sighed, striving for calm, though holding back her irritation grew harder by the second. Selka wasn't merely questioning the purpose of the whole endeavor; she was doing so before women who had hitherto obeyed the Grand Shaman without complaint.

"The warrior said what she is preparing will serve the entire tribe," she replied, lifting her chin, though she made no mention of how desperately she was banking on relief for her own ailments.

"Nonsense! It is all madness!"

Selka lost the last shred of her composure, and as her shout bounced off the stone walls, Vaelira narrowed her eyes at once, leveling a glare that even now managed to cool the elder's fervor a fraction.

"Watch your tongue, Selka."

"Forgive me, Grand Shaman," Selka replied hastily with a bow of her head, though she looked back up almost immediately, having no intention of letting a reprimand rob her of this chance to be rid of Seraya. "Yet what use do we have for this clay? Can she turn it into meat or fruit? The women return starving, and the warrior demands more and more, as though all of Emberfrost existed merely to indulge her whims!"

The cave representatives began murmuring in agreement, and when one took half a step forward, Vaelira felt an uncomfortable twinge beneath her ribs. One look at the woman's set jaw told her nothing conciliatory was coming.

"Before we came here, we spoke with the others," the woman said, wringing her hands before her. "If we must continue hauling dirt instead of foraging for food, we will go to Maerra and let her decide what we are to do."

"The chieftain must know how meager the rations have become," added a second, eyeing the shaman with mixed anxiety and stubborn resolve. "We cannot return from the forest day after day wondering if we will even receive enough to keep our bellies from growling."

Vaelira clenched her jaw. Appealing to Maerra meant something far more grave than mere grumbling, and the women before her were clearly prepared to circumvent her authority if they failed to receive the answer they sought. She could dress down Selka, dismiss a single disgruntled gatherer, or shut down a spat with a sharp command, but now she faced representatives from five caves with more starving women standing behind them, and she knew all too well that invoking her authority alone might no longer hold the line.

It was then that Morra spoke up, having stayed silent through most of the exchange, watching the dispute mount with a darkening expression.

"Grand Shaman, since the warrior claimed she does this for the tribe, allow me to go see what she is working on right now," she proposed, sweeping her gaze over the group. "If she has crafted something useful, we will see the proof and can explain to the others why she requires these materials."

Vaelira seized upon the suggestion immediately, seeing for the first time a way out of the corner without walking back her own decree. She nodded and gestured to the entrance before Selka could interject again.

"Very well. Go to her and see what she has done, then return and report to us."

Morra bowed her head and headed out, Vaelira tracking her departure with tension she could no longer wholly conceal; what the elder found at Seraya's cave carried far more weight now than the success of a few strange vessels.

You had better truly have something ready... Give me a single reason to keep defending you, instead of sitting here explaining why everyone must starve a little longer.

After Morra departed, the wait dragged on so mercilessly that Vaelira glanced toward the entrance time and again, knowing full well the elder couldn't possibly have returned yet, every faint rustle outside catching her ear. She tried to sit tall and keep an impassive face, but her fingers fretted ceaselessly over the edge of her bedding, betraying a restlessness that Selka clearly had no intention of letting her master.

"If she has still done nothing, the women return to their proper duties tomorrow," the elder said, looking to the other representatives. "We cannot afford to lose another day, Grand Shaman, when we already bring in less food than we need."

"We will wait for Morra," Vaelira replied, keeping her eyes fixed on the entrance, though even to her own ears the words rang far weaker than they should have.

She recalled all the extraordinary feats Seraya had accomplished, seeking within them a pillar to prop up her choice, but though the Holy Fire was real and her earlier relief no fabrication, memories could not silence the women standing before her bedroll. They had not come to ask about the warrior's past deeds, but why they had received so little food today, and the longer Vaelira pondered it, the heavier the burden of her order weighed on her shoulders.

When heavier footsteps finally sounded outside the cave, her head jerked up with hope so naked she didn't even have time to don her usual cool demeanor, but a single look at Morra stepping through was enough to choke the question in her throat. The elder's ears drooped, her mouth set hard, and the disappointment carved into her features was so stark that Vaelira felt the stiffness drain from her spine, slumping back against the furs.

"How... how did it go?" she asked at last, striving for a steady tone, though she feared the answer far more than she wished to hear it.

Morra looked first to her, then to the other women, and let out a heavy sigh; the image of Seraya sitting beside Niva, the clay spread between them, and their shared smiles still burned fresh in her mind - smiles that, after today's meager rationing, felt thoroughly out of place.

She had hoped to find something to quell the gathering storm, yet from where she had halted, all she saw was two women hunched over mud, kneading it between their palms and bantering with the breezy ease of people whose tribe didn't have a care in the world. She hadn't stepped forward to ask for an explanation, and now what she had taken for granted weighed so heavily upon her that she struggled to find the words.

I saw what she was capable of... She didn't flinch before a beast, she kindled fire, and she helped Vaelira, so why must she act now as if she couldn't care less?

"Morra, tell us what you saw!" Selka pressed, her reptilian tail twitching by her calves, joined immediately by the other women, rattled by the protracted silence.

"Did she make the vessels?"

"Is she truly doing something for the tribe?"

"We are waiting, elder..."

The questions overlapped, some laced with resentment, others with a dying ember of hope. Morra's eyes shifted over the expectant faces until settling upon Vaelira, who sat rigid, pale and taut.

"The warrior..." she began, then hesitated, realizing that delay only worsened the blow, before drawing a breath and blurting out what she had witnessed. "Seraya and Niva are playing in the mud."

The cave fell so dead silent that the snap of burning wood sounded like a crack of thunder. Vaelira stared at Morra unblinking for several seconds, as if waiting for a further explanation that might give those words a less humiliating cast. But the elder merely cast her eyes down, and the shaman slowly tilted her head back, letting out a short, dry laugh laden with so much venom that one of the representatives instinctively drew back a foot.

"Magnificent... A truly magnificent warrior," she said, and looking back at the assembly, her earlier hesitation gave way to rage she no longer bothered to mask.

She didn't ask what that "play" actually entailed, whether Morra had spoken with Seraya, or whether finished vessels sat nearby; the sting of humiliation burned away everything she remembered from the warrior's explanations.

In her mind echoed her own defenses given to the elders, her pleas for patience, and the commands that had sent women back into the woods for more loads - and the conviction that she had been played for a fool hardened by the second.

I believed you when you said you needed these things, and I made them keep working while enduring daily complaints about food... And you sit there with Niva, not even trying to prove it was worth it.

Had Seraya pursued something purely for her own amusement, Vaelira likely wouldn't have cared; the First Warrior was under no obligation to march out with the hunters each day and could spend her leisure as she pleased. But she had dragged the rest of the tribe into it, and the shaman herself had seen to it that she received the materials - so every thought of the halved rations only fed a fury that slipped beyond her grip.

Her breath quickened, hands clenching so hard her nails bit into her palms. Her attendant hurried forward and laid a hand on her back, trying to coax her into calmer breaths, but Vaelira brushed her off with a curt motion. She fixed her gaze on Selka, who hadn't uttered a single word since Morra's return, clearly sensing that patience alone was all she needed now.

"Gather the women," the shaman commanded through gritted teeth. "Today that fraud will answer for everything before the eyes of the tribe, and I will personally see her skull smashed."

Selka looked taken aback for a heartbeat, as if even she hadn't anticipated things falling so perfectly into her lap, but quickly bowed her head, turning to the cave representatives with brisk orders. Only when the women filed toward the exit did she look back to Vaelira, carefully veiling her triumph beneath a solemn mask.

"And what of Niva, Grand Shaman?"

Morra's head snapped up at once, but before she could utter a word, the shaman spoke with the very same malice that had driven her first command.

"She brought Seraya here and abets her now, so she will be punished as well. Let the rest remember what comes of dragging outsiders into Emberfrost."

"Grand Shaman, Niva is only..." Morra began, taking a step forward, but Vaelira cut her off with a slash of her hand, unwilling to hear excuses for either of them.

"I said both."

Selka bowed once more, while Morra stared at the shaman in rising horror, only now grasping how terribly out of hand a conversation she had intended to resolve with a quiet check on the warrior's work had spun. She had meant to help find a solution to the food shortage; instead, her words had sealed the death sentence of two women, and the realization weighed on her so heavily that she could scarcely move.

Word spread through the caves with frightening speed, and before Vaelira even stepped outside, a sizable portion of the tribe had assembled before her dwelling, drawn by word that the Grand Shaman was finally dealing with the root of their recent hunger. Women murmured in low voices, trading rumors and casting looks down the path leading to Seraya's cave, while Raska shoved her way to the front with the look of someone terrified of missing the main event.

Vaelira leaned briefly on the arm of her attendant, but catching sight of the sea of expectant faces, she straightened her back and lifted her chin, clawing back the poise the representatives' defiance had shaken earlier.

"I made an error in granting the outsider the title of First Warrior," she proclaimed, projecting her voice to reach the furthest ranks. "I trusted her promises and let her consume the fruits of your labor, but I will not allow her to deceive Emberfrost any longer."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, quickly escalating into louder shouts, and the shaman found in that roar the vindication she so desperately needed. Stepping forward, she pointed in the direction of Seraya's cave.

"Today she will pay for what she has brought upon us!"

"Kill Seraya!" shrieked Raska, pumping her fist with as much glee as if her personal victory had just been decreed. As several women took up the chant, she spun to the rest and bellowed it even louder.

More voices joined the chorus until the chant roared through the valley, drowning out quieter questions from those who hadn't yet grasped what had transpired in the shaman's cave. Not everyone shouted, but the majority swept forward in Vaelira and Selka's wake - some out of anger, some out of curiosity, and others simply carried along because it was impossible to stand still when the whole tribe was marching as one.

Raska strode at the head of the procession, chin tilted high, her face flushed with savage anticipation, while Morra trailed behind, sickened by the sound of the warrior's name screamed with such murderous bloodlust.

Seraya was smoothing down the rim of the second pot, gliding wet fingers over the clay while Niva braced the opposite side, careful not to press too hard and ruin what they had spent so long shaping. The new batch of material looked promising, and since the first vessel had survived the fire, Seraya had regained enough confidence to attempt something a little more symmetrical this time around.

"Hold it right there for another second, because if it slumps again, I swear to God I'm turning it into a bowl and pretending that was the plan all along," she muttered, shoring up the soft wall.

Niva giggled, leaning her head closer to their joint creation. The movement forced Seraya to reach further, pulling her top taut across her chest, the grime-stained hem dipping dangerously close to the wet clay. She hitched it up with her forearm, muttering curses at the lack of a proper workbench, before straightening with a sigh to inspect the pot from several angles, thoroughly pleased that at least this one didn't look like someone had sat on it first.

From an outside perspective it might well have looked like play, especially as they giggled over lumpy spots and passed fresh clay back and forth, but in Seraya's eyes it was another indispensable tool that would spare her from lugging a single pot between the pond and the hearth.

Just a couple more of these and I can actually keep water on hand instead of marching back and forth like an idiot every time.

Outside the cave, fresh soup bubbled over the hearth - Niva having contributed a small piece of meat this evening - and the drifting aroma pulled Seraya's gaze toward the fire with increasing frequency, until she finally drew her hands back from the clay, deciding further refinements could wait.

"All right, food break, before I get so distracted I boil it all away."

She rinsed her hands, grabbed the wooden ladle, and dished some soup into a bowl, watching with unvarnished satisfaction as the broth poured in without scalding her fingers. She blew across the surface and took a cautious sip. The meat made a world of difference, and though the lack of salt remained an irritating hitch, the broth was delicious enough that Seraya licked her lips and turned to Niva with a broad grin.

"Come try it, it actually turned out amazing this time."

The girl was just scrambling to her feet when a rising commotion echoed from the path. She froze, swiveling her rabbit ears toward the clearing, trying to disentangle individual words from the overlapping clamor.

"Warrior... what is that sound?"

Seraya lifted her head from the bowl, more puzzled than alarmed at first, but as woman after woman rounded the bend in the trail, she slowly lowered her hand, bewildered as to why half the tribe was marching on her cave.

"Holy shit... What is this, a post-dinner community stroll?"

Niva pressed close to her side, watching the approaching mob with mounting dread. Seraya was just about to set the bowl down and ask what was going on when Raska emerged at the head of the pack, her triumphant leer instantly stripping the scene of any lingering innocence. Her eyes locked onto Seraya, lifting an arm and stabbing a finger forward with all the venom of someone who had lived all evening just to spit those exact words:

"Seize her!"