Lilla wrenched the Empire spear out of the tree and flung it at a man racing towards Tiamoko. It clipped a branch overhead and dipped early, landing between his feet so that he tripped, sprawling headlong into the leaf-litter but unhurt. Not for long. Lutek burst from the trees and rammed her own spear into his back, punching him down onto the earth just as he rose to his hands and knees.

Lilla was halfway to her side when a warrior a head taller than him barred his path. The man bared his teeth, the front two filed into points – one of the Tlaloxqueh people from the far southwest. He jabbed and Lilla blocked with his hatchet, thrusting back with his spear. The Tlalox was fast, but so was Lilla, the weapons spinning around them in a blur as they parried and blocked. Lilla split the man’s knuckle with a hard swipe and pain flashed in his eyes, though his hands never faltered.

Screams and roars all around them, cries for help, shrieks for mercy ungiven, and then the Tlalox fell for a feint and Lilla skipped sideways, shearing the hatchet into his throat. It came back out with a puff of blood and a strangled attempt at a scream. The man dropped his spear and slapped both hands against the wound, his eyes so wide Lilla could see himself reflected in them. He didn’t care to look too closely, just stepped around the dying man and back-swung the hatchet into the nape of his neck.

Kux and her Yaloh poured out of the trees and now the Empire’s warriors were trapped between the two forces. Even so, they fought for longer than Lilla expected, neither surrendering nor fleeing. And they took a bloody toll on his forces. Another Toko fell, her salt-cotton armour no match for the stone-headed club that crushed her sternum. She dropped without a sound, her lungs and ribs smashed to ruin and bright blood vomiting from her mouth. Roaring, Lilla leapt at her killer, a man wearing a cap of coyote skin, the animal’s eyeteeth strung in his hair.

Lutek had Lilla’s flank and together they cut him onto his knees, bleeding from a dozen wounds but none of them fatal. Yet. Around them the clearing was falling still, bodies scattered like dead branches after a storm. The Paws had the victory, and those few enemy who fled into the jungle weren’t pursued; the chances of another ambush were too great.

‘Who are you?’ Lilla spat at the man, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. There was a long, freely bleeding slice in his right forearm he couldn’t remember getting, but the hurt of it mingled with adrenaline and anger and shock and twisted his voice into something savage, though the kneeling man didn’t react to it.