Aren’t you lovely? the voice cooed, letting out a faint thrum of annoyance as the tall man reached over his shoulder to draw the sword clear of the scabbard. Won’t work, the voice chided as he levelled the blade at the hyena, hoping to see the same shivering immobility it had wrought upon the horse. She’s too aware of the world, I’m afraid.

The beast’s eyes narrowed then, the snarl fading from its lips as it drew back, head shaking in confusion. She senses me, the voice noted with a delighted giggle. Wonderful. I always wanted a pet.

The hyena suddenly spun about as the sound of ringing steel pealed out once more. The tall man’s gaze snapped to the sight of vague figures dancing in a haze of raised dust thirty paces on. His experienced eye knew this dance to be deadly, watching as one figure tumbled to the sand with a pained shout. The hyena immediately let out another yelp and surged into a loping sprint, closing the distance to the fallen figure in a few strides whereupon she clamped her jaws around the raider’s skull. The crack of sundered bone was audible even above the tumult of clashing blades.

The tall man dug his heels into the stallion’s flanks, sending him into a fast gallop. The dust thinned as he closed on the dance, revealing the sight of a woman whirling amidst a circle of five raiders. She lashed out continually with a scimitar as she spun, the triple braids of her hair trailing. He saw her score a hit on a bandit’s over-extended arm, the scimitar biting deep and sending the man’s tulwar to the sand. He reared back, cursing in the language of the plains tribes as he reached with his uninjured hand for a hatchet on his belt. The tall man’s sword took his arm off at the shoulder as he galloped past then reined the stallion to a halt before bringing him about and charging once more. Only one raider made the mistake of trying to oppose him, his three surviving companions opting for the far wiser course of taking to their heels.

Yuk! the voice complained as the sword clove the unwise bandit’s face in two. A drunkard and a poppy fiend with a bad case of the pox to boot. Still, it added as the blood faded into the steel. A meal is a meal.

The tall man watched the trio of raiders flee into the desert, pondering the notion of riding in pursuit. The sword’s hunger, as ever, remained unabated, but he felt he had indulged sufficient distraction from his goal for one day.