The room resembled a battered sparring ring, bigger than Luga’s throne room, a space Orfeus’s house would fit neatly inside and still leave room for the garden. The ground was tough and a little springy, like rubber. The gate clanged shut behind her.

Hunters of the Wild stood ranged up against her. With an echoing non-sound, force fields went up, walls of blue light ringing the arena and rendering it inescapable. No one said anything, or explained what was happening.

“Three,” called a voice over loudspeaker, affable and a little blurred: Boarhound. “Two.” Orfeus darted her eyes out over her opposition, names blurring through her mind.

The Ocelot, in boxing wraps with a curved sword at her hip. The Starfish, a cloaked figure, holding violently glowing whips that each trailed into three separate strands. The Wolf, the Owl, the Hyena and Shark, the Wasp and the Otter. There were too many to keep track of, let alone analyse individually to try and find weaknesses.

The germane point was that there were eight of them and one of her. No wonder they were all named after predators: she was going to get eaten alive.

“One,” the Boarhound called.

All of them moved fast, but it was the Hyena who hit her first, barrelling right into her. Orfeus was on the ground before she realised what had happened. The Hyena pulled out her long gun with the tip glowing blue, but Orfeus rolled and sprang to her feet. She whipped her cloak in front of her face.

The stunning blast dissipated off it. Score one for thick cloaks.

Something kicked hard into her leg and Orfeus staggered away. She turned, falling into boxing stance in time to dodge as the Ocelot swung a punch at her. She ducked under the next one too, then flinched as something hit hard and stinging into her back. But the Ocelot was right in front of her, coming in again. Orfeus got off a quick rabbit punch, hitting the Ocelot’s chin but not fazing her.

Orfeus danced back a few steps, feeling at her back. Some kind of dart, but if there was tranquiliser or poison, it hadn’t kicked in yet —

Blue light arced towards her, and Orfeus dived to the side and hit the ground hard, skinning her elbow.

The Wasp darted forward, her mask a thing of nightmares, and lifted a long, sharp knife like the tip of a stiletto heel, dripping with poison.

Orfeus rolled aside as the knife came down at her, wriggling back. She avoided the blade but it dug into her cloak and pinned her down for a precious second. The Wolf kicked her in the stomach.