Everyone had gone rumbly. The werewolves, hackles up, emitted low growls and the occasional snarl as one drew back his lips to expose sharp canine teeth. The Vanaras were equally vocal, their rumbles higher pitched and gibbering, their weapons as sharp as those teeth.

Rue could think of no other approach so she sidled away, slowly, softly. A few heads turned to track her but no one chased. She stopped under her ship.

“Toss us down an axe or something similar, would you, Spoo? There must be firemen tools on board.”

Spoo’s head appeared, proving that she had been eavesdropping on the proceedings. Then vanished at the order.

Prim and Quesnel turned to glare after the former sootie.

Mrs Featherstonehaugh watched with interest.

Quesnel said, “Rue, what are you about?” A marker of his annoyance that he used her actual name.

Spoo reappeared with the requested axe.

Rue stepped out of the way hastily. Spoo dropped the tool overboard. It clattered on the sandstone and Rue gathered it up.

At this, one of the Vanaras veered away from his standoff with the werewolves and leapt over, spear at the ready. Rue brandished the axe and whirled to face him.

Quesnel shouted from above and took aim with his dart emitter. Before either of them could do anything, one of the werewolves leapt in a spectacular display of muscle over the bonfire and interposed himself between Rue and the attacking Vanara.

Herself.

This must be Lady Kingair, because none of the other wolves broke position. Also, this wolf had Rue’s eyes. The wolf’s fur was tinged grey like Lady Kingair’s hair.

The Alpha of the Kingair Pack growled low and herded the Vanara warrior away from Rue and back into his group.

The weremonkeys chittered at each other. Something was keeping them from casting the first blow. Though the one facing Lady Kingair looked like he desperately wanted to hurl his spear into her side, he kept looking to his Alpha for a signal. The Vanara leader did not give him one.

Neither Vanara nor werewolf wanted to be responsible for starting an incident. Rue wondered if this was based on a sense of kinship between the two shape-shifting immortals, or the result of old age. Rash battle, as a rule, was the provenance of the young and ignorant.

Unimpeded, Rue made her way to Percy.

She crashed the axe down hard on his chain.

Nothing happened. Except everyone jumped at the noise.

“Sorry,” said Rue into the quiet that followed.

Percy looked embarrassed to be causing a fuss.

None of the Vanaras tried to stop her. They merely looked amused at her puny mortal efforts.

How am I supposed to get Percy to safety if I can’t even break him free? Clearly I have no other choice – I have to steal Vanara form.