Chương 95: Chapter 73: Clearing The Air

Three days passed after Grub's conversation with Hask, and somewhere during them spring finally stopped feeling like an unfulfilled promise. Snow still lingered beneath the deepest shade, but most of the forest floor had reappeared in long stretches of wet earth and flattened grass. Meltwater ran down the slopes and swelled the stream below the Ironfang ridge, while deer and boar tracks multiplied through the forest beyond the wall. The cavern changed with the weather.

Its heavy entrance stood open through much of the day now, letting sunlight and cool air reach across the stone, and the newly finished storage hall had been filled with supplies that had spent the winter crowding every available corner. The Duskroot had changed too.

During the day, the cages were nearly empty, with anyone healthy enough to work moving through the cavern alongside the Ironfang, carrying water, stacking firewood, helping the Builders organize the new storage hall, or taking whatever other work needed another pair of hands. The few who were still sick remained under the Medics' care, while everyone else returned at night to the two larger cages now that the wounded enclosure was no longer needed. Hask had been the last to leave it.

Grub had wondered whether the former Chief might expect different treatment once he was well enough to work, but the morning after their conversation, Hask simply walked out of the cage, accepted the first task he was given, and got on with it. He hauled timber beside his former Warriors, carried water from the stream, dragged firewood across the clearing, and helped move stores into the new chamber without once reminding anyone that he had been a Chief or suggesting the work was beneath him.

When something heavy needed carrying, Hask carried it, and the other Duskroot noticed. So did Grub. By then, a strange balance had begun settling over the cavern. The Duskroot weren't treated like slaves, and no one watched them closely enough to make them helpless prisoners, but every evening they still returned to the cages. They worked beside the Ironfang, ate Ironfang food, and slept beneath Ironfang furs, yet they still weren't Ironfang. Not yet.

Grub was thinking about that when one of the Duskroot Warriors, a broad-shouldered goblin, crossed the cavern carrying a fresh haunch of meat toward the drying racks. A direwolf lifted its head, pale eyes locking immediately onto the meat in his hands. The prisoner stopped. He looked at the wolf, then at the meat, and slowly back at the wolf again. Grub slowed as well, along with several nearby goblins, as the direwolf pushed itself upright and padded across the stone toward him. The Warrior went rigid.

One of the Riders sat nearby repairing a leather strap. He glanced up, watched his wolf approach the prisoner, and called lazily, "Don't bite." The Duskroot's eyes widened. The Rider grinned.

"I meant the wolf." A few Ironfang laughed, though the prisoner didn't seem to find much humor in it. He remained perfectly still as the direwolf stopped in front of him, nose twitching toward the meat in his hands. After a moment, he cautiously held the haunch out. The wolf leaned forward, massive jaws opening around it. The Warrior flinched but managed not to pull away, and the direwolf took the meat without so much as brushing his fingers before backing off.

It turned twice beside the hearth, settled onto the stone, and immediately began tearing into its prize. The prisoner stared after it for a moment, then looked down at his empty hands.

"That was for the drying rack." The Rider shrugged.

"Try telling the wolf that." Laughter moved through the nearby Ironfang again. This time, one of the Duskroot carrying a basket behind him snorted along with them. The Warrior muttered something under his breath and went to find another piece of meat. Grub smiled faintly as he continued across the cavern. Lately, moments like that seemed to be happening everywhere, little interactions no one had planned that left the difference between prisoner and tribe slightly less obvious than it had been the day before.

That evening, the cages were louder than usual. Grub noticed while sorting a pile of spear shafts near the wall. He hadn't intended to listen at first, but the voices carried easily once the fires burned lower and most of the day's work had ended. The broad-shouldered Warrior who'd lost the meat to the wolf sat near the front of one cage.

"You should have dropped it," someone told him.

"And then what?"

"Let the beast take it."

"It did take it," the Warrior shot back.

"That isn't the same thing." He shot a glare at the other goblin.

"It felt the same from where I was standing." Several goblins laughed quietly. Another voice came from farther back, from a wiry Scout whose left ear had been torn near the tip.

"You laugh now, but we still sleep behind bars." The amusement faded. The broad-shouldered Warrior near the front leaned back against the wood.

"So?" The Scout looked at him.

"So what are we?" Several goblins frowned.

"We work beside them all day. We eat what they eat. Their Medics still treat us." He gestured through the bars toward the cavern.

"Half the time nobody even follows us around anymore. Then the sun goes down and we come back in here." A Hunter beside him, his nose flattened from an old break, shrugged.

"We're prisoners."

"I know."

"Then why ask?" The Scout rubbed at the torn edge of his ear.

"Because prisoners usually know what their captors want." The Warrior's brow furrowed.

"If they wanted slaves, we'd know," the Scout continued.

"We'd work because they made us. We'd eat enough to keep working, get beaten when we didn't, and have a Warrior standing over us every time the cage opened." From the other enclosure, a second Warrior shifted closer to the bars. A pale scar crossed one side of his face.

"Instead, they feed us whether we work or not."

"And we asked to work," the Hunter said. The scarred Warrior grunted.

"That's the strange part."

"Not just that," the Scout said.

"Yesterday I went from here to the stream with one Ironfang twenty paces ahead of me. He barely looked back." The broad Warrior stared at him.

"Did you think about running?"

"Of course."

"And?" The Scout glanced toward the open cavern entrance.

"Running where?" The flat-nosed Hunter had been watching the Ironfang beyond the bars. At that, he turned back toward them.

"That's the better question. Where would we even go?" The broad Warrior looked at him.

"Home."

"What home?" A few of the Duskroot shifted uncomfortably. The Hunter nodded toward the storage hall.

"Our stores are here. Our weapons are here. Most of what we owned is stacked in that room. The traps are gone, and the hollow has been empty for more than a week."

"We could rebuild," the Warrior said.

"With what?"

"We've rebuilt before." The Hunter scoffed.

"Not with the Red Tusk already taking our hunting ground." Grub's fingers stilled against the spear shaft he was holding. The Hunter continued without noticing.

"They were pushing farther in before winter. Cutting traps. Taking kills." The scarred Warrior's jaw tightened.

"We could fight them."

"We were fighting them. And losing." The Hunter rubbed a thumb along the flattened bridge of his nose.

"Then winter came and we started starving. We go back now, we have less food, fewer weapons, no traps, and an empty hollow they already know how to reach."

"They might have pulled back," the scarred Warrior said.

"Maybe."

"You don't know."

"No." The Hunter looked at him.

"Neither do you." The scarred Warrior grunted but didn't answer. The broad Warrior shifted against the bars.

"Doesn't matter anyway. We're still in here." The wiry Scout looked toward him.

"We can argue about the hollow all night," the Warrior continued.

"Unless someone plans to run, none of us are going back to it."

"And if someone does run," the Hunter said, "that's what they're running back to." The Warrior gave a dissatisfied grunt. For a few moments, the only voices came from elsewhere in the cavern. The broad Warrior scratched at his jaw.

"So we wait until the Ironfang decide." The Scout's eyes moved toward the far side of the second enclosure, where Hask sat with his back against the bars, listening without having joined the conversation. The scarred Warrior followed the Scout's gaze. After a moment, he looked toward his former Chief.

"What do you think, Chief?" Hask remained quiet for a while. His eyes moved across the cavern, following an Ironfang Builder as he carried a bundle of tools toward the storage hall. Finally, he looked back at his tribe.

"The Scout is right about one thing. They don't want slaves."

"How do you know?" the broad Warrior asked.

"Because Grub told me what they wanted." Hask rested his arms across his knees.

"They wanted us alive. Hunters. Warriors. Scouts. Goblins who could make the Ironfang stronger." The flat-nosed Hunter frowned.

"So they want us to become Ironfang."

"I think so." The scarred Warrior shifted against the bars.

"Then why haven't they said it?" Hask shrugged.

"Maybe they will."

"And if we don't want to?" the broad Warrior asked.

"That, he didn't tell me." A few of the Duskroot exchanged looks. The wiry Scout leaned forward slightly.

"So we still don't know what happens to us."

"No." Hask looked at him.

"But you know more than you did a moment ago."

"Not enough," the broad Warrior said.

"Probably not." After a moment, the scarred Warrior said, "So what do we do?" Hask looked from one cage to the other.

"For now? Nothing different."

"That's helpful." Hask ignored him.

"But if I'm right, sooner or later they're going to ask something from us besides carrying wood." The wiry Scout watched him.

"And you think we should already know our answer."

"I think we should start thinking about it." The broad Warrior's brow furrowed.

"We're Duskroot."

"Yes."

"So what is there to think about?" He gestured toward Hask.

"You're still our Chief. If you stay, we stay." This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Several of the others murmured agreement. Hask's expression hardened.

"No." The Warrior frowned.

"No?"

"I lost the duel. I surrendered." Hask looked from one cage to the other.

"I lost the right to call myself Chief when I did." The scarred Warrior shook his head.

"You lost to a Shaman. That doesn't count." Several Duskroot glanced toward Grub. He kept his eyes on the spear shaft in his hands and turned it slowly, as though the grain of the wood had suddenly become very fascinating. Hask followed their gaze.

"He isn't a Shaman." The scarred Warrior stared at him.

"You saw what he did."

"I did."

"He put stone through your shoulder."

"He missed first." The broad Warrior grunted.

"He still uses magic."

"So does that make every goblin who can use magic a Shaman?" No one answered immediately. Hask rested his arms across his knees.

"I've spent more than a week watching him. Three days ago, he wanted something from me. I refused." The flat-nosed Hunter raised an eyebrow.

"You told him no?"

"Yes."

"And?" Hask grinned.

"He got annoyed." A few mouths twitched.

"But he accepted it," Hask continued.

"He didn't threaten me, punish me, or start waving magic around until I changed my answer." The wiry Scout frowned.

"What did he want?"

"Something I know that he doesn't."

"And you still haven't told him?" Hask shook his head.

"No." The scarred Warrior looked toward Grub again.

"That doesn't prove he isn't a Shaman."

"Maybe not." Hask shrugged.

"But you're using the word because you're afraid of what he can do. I'm telling you I fought him, surrendered to him, spent a week watching him, and talked to him alone. He's a goblin who can use magic." His mouth twitched faintly.

"A strange goblin, but still a goblin, just like us." The broad-shouldered Warrior remained unconvinced.

"Doesn't matter. You're still our Chief." Hask's expression softened slightly.

"No. I was your Chief."

"You lost a duel."

"I lost when Grub challenged me, then surrendered to Dravak. So did the rest of you." Hask looked from one cage to the other.

"The Duskroot don't have a Chief anymore." The scarred Warrior folded his arms.

"We still follow you."

"I know."

"Then what's the difference?" Hask regarded him for a moment.

"You still follow me because you want to. I can't order you anymore." That drew several frowns. The broad Warrior stared at him.

"You just said they want us to make the Ironfang stronger."

"I said that's what Grub told me."

"And you think that means they want us to join."

"I do." The Warrior gestured around the cage.

"Then either we join them or we stay prisoners."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?" Hask shrugged.

"I don't know what Dravak intends to offer us. I don't know what happens if one of you refuses. Neither does anyone else in here." His gaze moved between the two cages.

"But if the Ironfang eventually ask whether you want to become one of them, I don't want twenty-seven goblins turning to me and asking what answer they should give." The broad Warrior's brow furrowed.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your Chief anymore." Silence settled over the cages. Hask let it remain for a moment before continuing.

"You can still listen to me. You can still disagree with me. You can follow me if you decide I'm going somewhere worth following." His eyes moved across the faces watching him.

"But what comes next isn't mine to choose for all of you." The wiry Scout glanced through the bars toward the cavern.

"And what are you going to choose?" Hask followed his gaze.

"I'm still thinking." Grub lowered the spear shaft in his hands. That was enough. He set it with the others, got to his feet, and went to find Dravak. Dravak sat near the central hearth with Kesh and Throk, a marked strip of bark resting across one knee while Kesh quietly went over the latest Scout reports. He looked up as Grub approached.

"You were listening again." Grub stopped.

"How do you know?"

"You make the same face every time." Throk snorted. Grub ignored him and lowered himself near the fire.

"They're starting to talk about what happens next." Kesh's attention shifted toward the cages.

"About escaping?"

"No." Grub shook his head.

"They're past worrying about whether we're going to kill them. Mostly."

"Mostly?" Throk asked. He shrugged.

"They've only known us a week."

"Good point." Grub nodded toward the cages.

"They're asking what we want from them. Their hollow's empty, and one of their Hunters said the Red Tusk were cutting traps and taking kills before winter. Running home isn't much of an answer." Kesh nodded slowly.

"And Hask?"

"He thinks we want them to become Ironfang. I told him why we wanted them alive, and he figured out the rest." Grub glanced toward the cages.

"He told them that if we eventually give them a choice, he isn't going to make it for them." Dravak gave a low grunt.

"Smart."

"Yeah." Grub watched the fire for a moment. Throk looked over.

"You told him?" Another shrug.

"He figured out that keeping Nettleroot knowledge from us makes him harder to kill." Throk stared at him. Kesh's mouth twitched. Grub grinned.

"I respected the logic." Dravak's eyes narrowed with faint amusement.

"And he told you how to use it?"

"Nope." Throk barked a laugh.

"Good. I like him." Grub sighed and leaned back on his hands.

"That makes one of us." Throk just shook his head.

"You like him too."

"I said I respect him."

"Same thing for you." Grub gave him a flat look. Dravak raised one hand before the argument could go anywhere.

"If they're asking what comes next, then we need an answer."

"We have one," Grub said. Dravak looked at him.

"We want them to join. That's easy." Grub leaned forward slightly.

"The harder question is what happens to the ones who don't want to." Throk frowned.

"They were conquered." Grub looked at him.

"So?"

"So conquered goblins don't usually get asked what they want." Throk shrugged.

"They lost. The winning tribe decides what happens after."

"That doesn't mean forcing them to swear loyalty is a good idea." Throk's brow furrowed. Grub continued.

"If a goblin swears loyalty because the other choice is a spear through the throat, that doesn't mean he's loyal. It means he's waiting until our backs are turned." Kesh rubbed one thumb along her jaw.

"That would put enemies inside the cavern instead of outside it."

"Exactly." Dravak sat quietly for a moment.

"You would want refusal to be allowed?"

"Yes." Throk looked between them.

"And then what? We keep feeding goblins who openly tell us they don't want to be Ironfang?"

"No. They leave." The answer made Throk straighten.

"With what they know?" Grub was quiet for a moment.

"That's the part I don't have a good answer for. They've already seen too much for us to take it back."

"So we just let them carry it out with them?" Grub looked at Throk.

"If we're actually letting them refuse, yes." Throk's expression darkened, but before he could answer, Kesh looked toward the cages.

"If they leave with nothing, most will die." Grub nodded.

"That's what I was thinking." Throk sighed.

"Of course it was." Dravak grunted.

"And you have an idea?" Grub glanced at him.

"If someone refuses, they should be allowed to leave with a spear, furs, and food."

"How much food?" Dravak asked. Grub thought about it.

"A week." Throk stared at him.

"A week of food?" Grub shrugged.

"They'll need time to find somewhere to go." Exasperation crept into Throk's voice.

"They might go straight to the Red Tusk." Grub frowned.

"They might." Kesh spoke before Throk could continue.

"If one of them wants the Red Tusk badly enough to join them, sending him away hungry won't change that." Dravak nodded slowly.

"No." His gaze remained on the cages.

"Alright. We will offer them a spear, enough furs to travel, and seven days of food." Throk grunted, but didn't argue again. Dravak continued.

"And we won't follow them while they're leaving our territory."

"And after that?" Kesh asked.

"They're no longer our concern unless they make themselves one." Grub nodded. Dravak looked at each of them in turn.

"What if they change their minds after?" Kesh shrugged.

"Then they come back and ask." Throk grunted, obviously irritated.

"And we decide whether we still want them?"

"Exactly." He leaned back against the stone seat.

"I still don't like giving away food." Grub and Kesh answered in unison, "We know."

"I wanted that said." Kesh rolled her eyes. Dravak ignored them.

"How long should we give them to decide?" Grub glanced toward the cages.

"I don't think we need to put a time limit on it yet." Dravak considered that for a moment.

"Agreed. But they can't stay halfway between prisoner and tribe forever." Throk scratched at his jaw then gestured at the cavern around them.

"So until they decide, we keep doing this?" Grub looked toward the Duskroot scattered through the cavern.

"No. If we want them to choose the Ironfang, they need to see more than hauling stone, water, and firewood all day and sleeping behind bars at night."

"You want to give them more freedom," Kesh said.

"Some. They've worked beside us for days without causing trouble. No one's tried to run or started a fight. I think they've earned enough trust to do more than haul things." Throk leaned forward slightly.

"Such as?"

"What they already know how to do." Grub looked toward Kesh.

"They had Hunters and Scouts before we took them." Kesh considered the idea, nodding slowly.

"They don't go out alone."

"Obviously."

"One of ours with one of theirs," she said, glancing at Dravak.

"Short routes first. Close to the cavern." Dravak nodded, then looked toward Throk.

"And their Warriors train with ours." Throk grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"I'll take them." Grub sighed.

"They're supposed to want to join afterward."

"They will."

"That confidence worries me." Kesh's attention shifted toward the Medics.

"What about the ones already helping there?"

"Let them keep learning," Grub said.

"Same with the Builders. If any of the Duskroot show an instinct for the work, give them something more useful than carrying rubble. More Medics and Builders will always be useful." Dravak looked around the cavern for a moment, then nodded.

"Good. We'll give them room to show us what they can do." His eyes shifted toward the cages.

"Tomorrow morning, bring Hask to me." Grub nodded.

"It's time we tell him the rest." The next morning came bright enough that the cavern entrance was already open when Grub crossed toward the cages. Hask sat awake near the front of the second enclosure, looking considerably more comfortable than he had a few days earlier. His wounds barely showed in the way he moved now, though Grub still caught a slight stiffness in his leg whenever he shifted too quickly. Grub stopped beside the cage.

"Dravak wants you." Hask looked up.

"That sounds promising."

"Probably."

"That doesn't sound promising." Grub opened the cage.

"Come." Hask stood and followed Grub across the cavern, where Dravak waited near the central hearth with Kesh and Throk beside him. At the Chief's gesture, Hask lowered himself onto an empty stone across the fire. For a few moments, they sat there in silence, looking at one another. Then Dravak spoke.

"Grub tells me you know why we kept your tribe alive." Hask glanced toward Grub.

"He explained his plan." Grub gave a small grin.

"Most of it." Hask's brow rose slightly. Dravak leaned back.

"Then why do you think we need more goblins?" Something shifted in Hask's expression.

"The Red Tusk." Grub looked toward him, an eyebrow raised. Hask noticed.

"They were already pressing us before winter, he continued.

"I assumed you knew they were growing stronger." His eyes moved briefly around the cavern.

"Once Grub told me you wanted the Duskroot alive because you needed our Hunters, Warriors, and Scouts, I figured that was part of the reason." Kesh leaned forward.

"How badly were they pressing you?" Hask rested his forearms across his knees.

"It started slowly. Tracks where they shouldn't have been. Traps disturbed or cut loose. Hunters returning to find kills gone." His jaw clenched.

"Then goblins stopped returning." Throk's expression hardened.

"They were killing your Hunters?"

"Yes."

"Openly?"

"No." Hask shook his head.

"Ambushes. A lone Hunter disappearing. A patrol coming home one goblin short. Once we found a body with a spearhead still in it." Kesh frowned.

"They were taking pieces from you without risking a full fight."

"They didn't need one." Hask looked toward the open entrance.

"Winter was already doing most of the work." Grub remembered the Duskroot hollow when they'd arrived, the empty stores, the coughing goblins, and bodies gone thin beneath poor furs.

"You wouldn't have lasted much longer." Hask gave a humorless smile.

"Another month and you would've conquered corpses." Silence followed that. Dravak leaned forward.

"How many Red Tusk are there?"

"Before winter, around eighty." Hask paused.

"Maybe a little more. And that was before whatever happened to the Bristlehide." Kesh nodded.

"They're gone." Hask sighed.

"I assumed."

"Our Scouts found the remains of their territory," she said.

"The Red Tusk absorbed whatever was left."

"Then eighty may be old information."

"It most likely is," Grub said. Hask looked around the fire.

"You have thirty-five goblins and eleven wolves." It wasn't a question.

"With us, sixty-three goblins."

"Still fewer than the Red Tusk," Grub said.

"Yes." Hask glanced toward the cavern entrance, where one of the wolves lay with its forepaws crossed in the sunlight.

"But very different odds from thirty-five." Throk grinned.

"I knew I liked him." Hask ignored him. Dravak's expression remained serious.

"That is the larger reason we want your tribe." Hask looked back.

"Numbers."

"Strength." Dravak gestured slightly toward the cavern.

"Goblins who can work and fight beside ours when the Red Tusk finally come south." Hask nodded once.

"That makes sense."

"But there's another part you need to hear." Dravak's gaze held his.

"We want the Duskroot to become Ironfang. We're going to ask whether you want to." Hask's eyebrow rose.

"Ask?"

"Yes." Dravak leaned forward slightly.

"If you or one of your goblins refuses, I'm not forcing an oath from them." Hask was silent. Grub watched the calculation begin behind his eyes.

"What happens then?"

"They leave." Hask's eyes narrowed slightly. Dravak went on.

"But we won't force them out of the cavern with nothing. We will give them enough to have a chance. A spear, travel furs, and food for seven days. They leave our territory without being hunted." For once, Hask didn't immediately answer.

"You really mean that?"

"I agreed to it," Dravak said.

"It was Grub's idea." Hask looked toward Grub. Grub gave a small shrug.

"Of course it was," Hask said. Throk snorted. Hask's mouth twitched faintly before he turned back to Dravak.

"And once they're gone?"

"If they stay away, nothing," Dravak said.

"If they become our enemy, we treat them like one." Hask nodded slowly.

"And if they come back?"

"That depends on why." Dravak's mouth pulled faintly to one side.

"If they come back asking to join, we will hear them out." Hask was quiet for a while. His gaze moved across the cavern, lingering on the open entrance, the wolves resting among their Riders, and the Duskroot working alongside Ironfang near the storage hall.

"You're willing to let goblins walk away after seeing all of this?" Kesh answered.

"We're willing to avoid keeping goblins inside the cavern who want to see us dead." Hask looked toward her, and she shrugged.

"Seems safer." A faint smile touched Hask's mouth.

"Fair." Dravak turned his attention back to Hask.

"Your tribe doesn't need to decide today. They've seen this cavern. They've seen how we treat prisoners. They haven't seen much of what we expect from Ironfang." Hask glanced toward the cages.

"They've been talking about that."

"We know." His eyes shifted toward Grub. Grub smiled innocently. Hask snorted and shook his head.

"Starting today, they'll see more," Dravak continued.

"We're done using every healthy Duskroot for whatever hauling needs doing. Your Hunters will begin going out with ours. Your Scouts will work short routes with Kesh's goblins. Your Warriors train with Throk." Hask looked toward Throk. Throk smiled broadly.

"My condolences," Grub said. Hask gave a quiet amused grunt.

"The ones already helping the Medics can keep learning there," Dravak continued.

"The Builders can use anyone who shows ability beyond carrying rubble." Then his expression grew more serious.

"They're still prisoners until they choose otherwise. No one goes beyond our territory alone. No one guards the entrance. No one takes a weapon into the forest because he claims he's hunting." Hask nodded.

"That I understand."

"But they'll have enough freedom to see what joining us would actually mean." Dravak glanced toward the cages.

"They shouldn't make that choice from behind bars." Hask followed his gaze. Several Duskroot had gathered near the front of the enclosures, too far away to hear much but close enough to watch the conversation around the fire. After a moment, Hask looked back.

"And me?"

"You train with the Warriors," Dravak said.

"And you help your goblins adjust. They still look to you. I'm not going to pretend they don't." Hask's expression shifted slightly.

"But that doesn't give you rank here."

"I know." Dravak studied him for a moment.

"You're System-blessed. You're strong. Your tribe still listens when you speak, and from what I've seen, you're not an idiot." Hask glanced toward Grub.

"Generous." Grub laughed.

"If you become Ironfang, prove loyal, and show me you can lead goblins who didn't already follow you, then there may eventually be a place for you beside my Lieutenants." Dravak's attention shifted briefly toward Grub, Kesh, and Throk.

"But you must earn it." Hask was silent. Then a slow grin spread across his face.

"Good." Throk raised an eyebrow. Hask looked toward him.

"I'd think less of him if he just handed it to me." Throk's grin widened.

"I definitely like him." Kesh sighed. Hask turned back to Dravak.

"I can't tell you what every Duskroot will choose."

"I'm not asking you to."

"They'll ask what I think."

"I know." Hask glanced toward his tribe.

"And you want me to tell them all of this."

"Yes."

"The Red Tusk too?"

"Especially that." Hask nodded. For a few seconds, no one spoke. Then he stood.

"I'll talk to them." Dravak inclined his head.

"Take your time." The Duskroot were already gathered near the bars. Their conversation died as Hask approached, and several shifted closer as he stopped outside the cage. The broad-shouldered Warrior broke the silence.

"Well?" Hask looked across the faces waiting for him, then rested one hand against the bars.

"We have decisions to make."