Now’s my chance to ask permission to eat! I’m starving!

A loud call, nearby.

Riv ground her teeth.

It was her friend Vald, sitting on a bench with a dozen White-Wings, brandishing his drinking cup, calling loudly for Jost to fill it for him.

He’s only a few moons past his Long Night, and before that stood in the line with Jost one side of him and me the other!

Riv eyed Vald with a frown; there was a big grin on her friend’s face. She was pleased for him, or more accurately, had been pleased for him. But seeing him now, hearing him talking of the White-Wings as if he was a veteran of a hundred missions, all puffed up with his own self-importance, she found herself grinding her teeth.

‘You’ll do,’ Vald said, seeing Riv watching him. ‘Some wine over here.’ He grinned straight at her. Riv curled a lip and looked purposely away.

‘Hey, Fledgling Riv,’ Vald called out, using her official and never-used title.

Riv felt her limbs tense.

Just ignore him. He’s in his cups, is enjoying the fulfilment of his dream, to become one of the White-Wings. Let him have this moment.

‘Do your job,’ Vald finished.

Riv spun on her heel and marched straight towards him. Vald was sloshing the dregs of his cup at her, the wide grin still stretched across his face, though with each step she took closer to him the smile seemed to wither a little.

Riv stood over him.

‘Your cup,’ she said, shaking her wine skin.

Vald’s smile returned and he held his cup out for her.

Riv unstoppered the skin and poured the wine over Vald’s head.

Laughter rippled along the bench, as well as a warning cry or two. Someone was calling her name. Riv heard it as if through fog.

‘I’ll not be mocked and treated like a slave by anyone, least of all you, you fat pig,’ she snarled. ‘Want some wine? Pour it yourself.’

He leaped up, spluttering, and pushed Riv in the chest. Vald was as wide as he was tall, and strong as a bull, but Riv was ready for it, had sparred with him many times. She stepped to the left, slapped his hands away and kicked out at him. She must have connected with his stones, because he turned purple and dropped to his knees, hands clutched over his groin, gurgled curses foaming from his mouth. He tried to rise, but didn’t quite have the strength for it, instead staggering into Riv, his bulk sending her stumbling back. Her heel hit something and she began to fall, with a moment of perfect clarity knew that they were both headed for the fire-pit where a deer’s carcass was turning above the flames, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.