Rue looked to her ship.

Prim and her crew had managed to capture most of the tea containers. The bubbles rolled about the deck like many round brass eggs in a gondola-shaped basket. Rue worried they might fall overboard should the ship list in any particular direction. She wanted to yell up orders to keep the Custard steady, prevent tea-crushing accidents. But she still had no voice. In lieu of an actual speech, she turned to Miss Sekhmet and, lips curled away from the burn, bit at the silver mesh, trying to pull it off her.

Miss Sekhmet understood and with a grace that seemed to suggest some long-gone acrobatic ability – had she once been a dancer of some kind? – she shrugged off the net.

Rue jerked her head at her and Lady Kingair.

Miss Sekhmet looked to the Alpha. “May I?”

The pack leader nodded, wary. Miss Sekhmet mounted up. Lady Kingair turned and ran into the forest. A wolf carrying a goddess atop her back, thought Rue poetically.

Everyone but Rue was confused by this.

“What in the aether is that crazy female up to?” demanded the brigadier as he watched his werewolf Alpha break for the trees. Almost as one, the rest of the Kingair Pack whirled and followed. They may ostensibly fight for the British army but werewolves fought for their Alpha first. If that Alpha wanted to dash off into the jungle with a mysterious goddess on her back on a whimsical evening run in the middle of a prospective battle, they would go with her.

Rue was pretty certain Miss Sekhmet would rather keep her identity as a werelioness secret. It was all very well to reveal weremonkeys to the British government but werecats was taking things too far. Rue agreed. It wouldn’t do to broaden their tiny political minds too quickly. One werethingy at a time. She made for the trees, in the opposite direction.

“What on earth?” the brigadier demanded of the vacant air. “Deserters! I’ll have your guts for garters.” He did not have long to dwell on prospective courts-martial, for without the werewolves between him and the Vanaras, his attention shifted to more urgent matters. The Vanaras were advancing steadily towards him and his cavalry.

The weremonkeys respected their wolf brethren more than anyone realised. Now that the pack was gone, they were intent on taking this battle into the forest, home turf, where they could use their climbing abilities to greatest advantage. Everyone there knew this.

Horses could only hold ground in a clearing. So, before the cavalry could be pressed under the canopy, the brigadier signalled the charge.

“No!” yelled his wife desperately. “Miss Akeldama, do something!”

Rue was among the vines and out of sight up another tree.

Brigadier Featherstonehaugh would brook no contrary women around him in battle. “Major, get my wife away from here.”