Someone laughed, not the Hyena, a mellow, softer laugh. Liquor-softened. Another person sat lower down in the scrap pile, leaning back comfortably against what might have been a broken old radiator, a tankard in hand. They lifted the tankard briefly in a toast, drank, and said nothing.

“We brought her in,” the Hyena added. Her tone was deferent, but it lacked something that had been in Faol’s. Something Orfeus wanted to call blind obedience, though she hadn’t observed all of them enough yet to really capture the intricacies.

Luga looked at the Hyena and the Shark. “Well done,” he said. He looked at the Wolf, and his tone cooled noticeably. “Won’t you introduce us properly, Faolan?”

Faol looked up, looking a little surprised, but nodded. Still kneeling, and certainly not looking at Orfeus, he said, “This is Luga, leader of the Order of the Vengeful Wild, best and wisest of us.” His tone was respectful, subservient and almost fond. “Sir, this is…”

Luga leaned forward. His hand where it laid on his knee looked…odd, the fingertips blackened. “The prey that escaped you,” Luga said. “I’m aware.”

The Wolf bowed his head again. Orfeus couldn’t guess at what was on his face.

“To be fair,” Orfeus said, and Luga looked at her. It was just one look, and his eyes were pale green, not an especially intimidating shade, but something in her chest clenched tight in fear. She brazened on, her voice thin and insubstantial, falsely cheery. “It’s not entirely the poor dear’s fault. I’m very wriggly as a person. Evasive. Quite an excellent candidate for your little gaggle of vigilantes, really.”

Luga looked at her, and said nothing. The person seated on the ground seemed to have stopped paying attention, taking another swig of whatever was in the tankard, wriggling to get more comfortable. Their mask looked canine, with similar ears to the Wolf’s.

Luga’s eyes bored into her.

Orfeus cleared her throat. “If you don’t believe me, then…” No Blood, no weapons. Playing guitar at him wouldn’t help. She wet her lips. “Then…I’ll challenge you to single combat.”

The Wolf’s head snapped up and he stood. “I will fight in the Leader’s place if wished,” he said, in his harsh voice. It was a perfectly normal voice, mid-register. The harshness when he spoke was from how he forced it out, like the words were going to hurt him if he didn’t get rid of them all at once and carefully measured. Necessary things to dispense with, like kidney stones.

Orfeus blurted, “Is there no end to how much you want me dead?”

A muscle in his neck jumped and twitched. He stepped back slowly, joining the Hyena and Shark, but he didn’t look at her.

The Leader still said nothing, and Orfeus jutted a look out at him. “What,” she said, “are you scared?”