The Shark stepped back, and the Hyena did too, one hand resting casually on her gun. Orfeus stepped out and glanced around to see a grey corridor with lights set along the ceiling, coiling tubes on the joints between ceiling and walls that trailed off down around one corner.

This place was grungy and metallic, with no plant flourishes that she could see. She bounced her heels against the ground, testing. Were they airborne? High up, certainly: the odd weightlessness in her chest put her in mind of the lift to Bright’s tower.

The Hyena prodded her in the back. “Come on.”

Orfeus stepped forward, glancing back at her. Her mask was the most distinctive thing about her appearance, mostly tawny, with brown ears and a black snout. A line of jagged teeth ranged above where Hyena’s real nose was. Orfeus could see the mask better in this light, and it was fearsome enough she wished she couldn’t. Hyena looked stocky and competent. She wore similar tough armour to the Wolf’s, mostly obscured by her drapery of weapons.

“It’s not like I’m fighting,” Orfeus said. “What do you think I’m going to do, lie down on the ground and passively resist?” She scuffed her boot against the thin carpet. The Hyena gave her another cheerful shove and Orfeus sauntered forward into a walk, glancing around idly like she was enjoying the nonexistent decoration. “I wouldn’t do that to myself. Your carpet looks like moss. I’d actually be reassured if it was moss.”

None of them said anything. Orfeus glanced at the Shark, who smiled affably ahead, face cheerful beneath the rows of needle-teeth. She craned back to look at the Wolf: his eyes were fixed on her, furrowed in the snarling silver of his mask. Orfeus sighed. “Cross my heart and hope to sigh that I won’t currently try to fight you or set your moss on fire. There’s three of you! Calm down.”

“Can’t be too careful,” the Hyena said, and jerked her head towards the Wolf. “You beat him.”

Faol let out a growl, low-pitched but entirely audible. Orfeus’s laugh sounded bright and joyful to her own ears, like she had no troubles in the world; she was proud of it.

“Here I was worried about the Vengeful, but you people really take the Wild part seriously,” Orfeus said. She couldn’t stop talking and didn’t really have any reason to. No knife, no Blood, plenty of words.

The Shark put his hand lightly on her shoulder and directed her down a corridor to the right, then down another. She didn’t have enough presence of mind to be mentally mapping the place yet. That could come tomorrow, if she lived until then. There was something soothing in the stark dead-end of short-term planning.

“We take both seriously,” the Shark said, still smiling.