Evie nods. She pushes herself away from the ground and peers across their backs at where Brio is sprawled.

“No matter what happens, you stay planted in that spot. With that leg you’ll only get yourself killed.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Evie slinks back down the hill and crawling below their collective feet until she reaches the tight row of B’ors warriors. She creeps up beside Yacatek, returning her gaze to the approaching columns of horses.

“Sicclunan riders,” Evie tells her. “It’s a war party.”

Yacatek only nods.

“I count twenty. We have the numbers, but we don’t have the soldiers to match them in an open battle. We can’t flee and we can’t fight. Not to mention they’re on horseback—”

“Why are you wasting words on what we can all see with our eyes?” Yacatek asks irritably.

Evie almost grins. “Fine. What do we do?”

Instead of answering, Yacatek’s eyes flash at one of the B’ors warriors, then another. With the slightest gesture of her chin she seems to convey an entire plan of action to them, as they both nod and spring immediately into action, rising and sprinting over the hillcrest, weapons in hand.

Evie can feel the Elder Company watching the B’ors break cover and then looking to her in desperate rage, but she has no answers for them. Instead she watches the B’ors warriors charge down the other side of the hill in opposite directions, waving their handmade weapons and letting out loud and challenging hoots and hollers. By the time they reach the bottom of the hill they’re spaced yards apart, almost perfectly spanning one end of the hiding Savages to the other.

The Sicclunan party’s captain raises their left arm. The column of riders on that side of the leader’s mount quickly break formation and begin galloping toward the foot of the hill. They split into teams of five, each group riding to bear down both of the taunting B’ors warriors. When each team of horses has closed half the distance between their riders and the Savages, the B’ors warriors turn and begin charging back up the hill.

It’s at that moment Evie is struck by the stratagem unfolding. She spares a quick glance in Yacatek’s direction, surprised and appreciative, before turning to the Elder Company and the row of Savages beyond.

“Get ready!” she shouts across their sprawled bodies, drawing her pilfered short sword. “Take down the riders! Save the mounts if you can! We need those horses!”

“You heard her, you dogs!” Lariat growls at the largely timid untested assemblage of conscripts. “You don’t fight, you don’t eat!”