She reached the rear of the battle and a shaman was there with a queue of wounded waiting for him. He flicked a glance at her and indicated she join the back of the line. Dotted across the hillside were other shamans and other wounded. Above, sporadic flights of arrows flew from the city wall into the Melody, which retreated out of range. The Tokob facing them, sensing an advantage, gave chase.

Despair washed through Xessa when she understood the ruse. Her people were now more vulnerable, with further to run to get back to safety, while the Melody was out of arrowshot. In the chaos of battle, the Tokob probably had no idea what had happened; they’d sensed an advantage and taken it, and the Melody had turned it against them. How easily manipulated they were, like children playing at war. Warriors waiting for treatment, who had also seen and recognised the ploy, began sprinting towards the rear Paws, screaming at them to pull back under the protection of the walls, but Xessa had seen enough retreats become routs that she didn’t expect this one to be any different. She was simply, selfishly, glad that it wasn’t Toxte’s section that had fallen into the trap.

We’re going to lose. We’re running out of water and running out of warriors. There’s no winning this. We’re going to lose.

But we can make them fucking bleed.

She stood at the back of the line and resolutely didn’t pay attention to the agony pulsing down to her fingertips and up to the side of her head with every liquid thud of her heart. A boy and a girl dragging a trellis loaded with gourds passed, and one handed a container up to her. Water. Xessa tried to make it last, but four gulps and it was gone, not nearly enough to take the furry, insistent edge from her thirst. She stared after the children, but then the shaman was ready for her.

He tugged the bone needle and thread through Xessa’s wound, sealing up the hanging flesh, and then requested the bandage in her medicine pouch: he’d run out. Already. When it was done he took her chin in a bloody hand and stared into her eyes. He gave her a brisk nod and pointed – back at the battle.

A manic laugh burst from her, but the shaman was implacable. The day wasn’t over yet and Xessa had promised to make them bleed.

It turned out killing people, even enemies trying to steal your land and home and freedom, was very different from killing the Drowned.