The first voice, low and gruff, answered. "Shut your mouth, Ferish! I got enough women to bed anytime I like. But you heard what Master Raem said. We're to kill every last dragon other than this Laira one, the little girl with the black hair. The demon's got his own plans for her, and he'll pay great treasures to those what find her. And I saw her! Saw her running here."

Hidden in the burrow, Laira winced and her heart leaped into a gallop. Raem. Her father. So this Widejaw tribe was working for him. Her innards trembled, though she was not surprised. Raem had hired the Goldtusk tribe to hunt her last year; why not hire another tribe, an even more vicious one?

"But there's no tracks—" rose the raspy voice—Ferish's voice.

Ktar grumbled. "Of course there ain't no tracks. Damn things can turn into dragons, same what we can turn into sphinxes. They must have flown off to hide somewhere." He sniffed. "I think I can smell something." His boots, barely visible through the burrow's curtain of roots and grass, turned toward the hideout. "I do. I smell something hidden in the brush." More sniffs and snorts sounded. "Smells like . . . like women. Yes! They flew here somewhere. I smell them hiding."

Maev sneered. Laira shot her a glare and shook her head. Outside the burrow, the boots stamped about the forest. When Laira peered between the roots and parted the grass, she could see the pair. They were two muscular men in ring mail, swords at their sides. Their cheeks were split open—Widejaws. Widejaws who could become sphinxes. Even if Laira and Maev slew them, they would raise the alarm before they died, calling hundreds more of their kind.

"I smell nothing," said Ferish, the older of the two.

Ktar kept moving about. "I do. I could smell me women a mark away. They're . . . here! Look. A burrow!" He came stomping toward the roots and grass beneath which Laira and Maev hid.

Before Maev could leap out—the woman was already growling and tensing her muscles—Laira reached behind her, grabbed the skunk, and pulled it forward. She shoved the animal out of the burrow, letting it race toward the two Widejaws.

The tribesmen froze.

Their eyes widened.

The skunk scurried forward, spun around, and raised its tail.

"Shagging goat-herders!" Ktar shouted. "Run!"

The two men spun on their heel and raced away.

"Smelled something, did you?" Ferish roared as they ran among the trees. "You and your maggoty nose!"

Within moments, the two men were gone, their cries distant.

Laira waited a few moments longer, heard no more Widejaws, and finally crawled out of the burrow. She rose to her feet and kicked her legs about, loosening her muscles. Maev crawled out next with a string of curses so foul Laira was surprised the trees didn't wilt. The skunk, meanwhile, lowered its tail—spray still unreleased—and crawled back into its home.