After a quick greeting to the people gathered, Janius and Kaleeth stayed out of the way on the sidelines. Janius was surprised to see the Master-Hunter again, but not pleasantly. By the tone of the Jel being thrown between him and Thorantilth, he had decided to stir up trouble. By the physicality of the boy that accompanied him, Janius suspected that he had not taken his plea against harming Sabine into account. Still, Janius didn't speak up. Even though the boy looked stronger, Janius knew for a fact that Sabine was much stronger than her gaunt figure betrayed. It would be a competition of skill versus strength. In any case, Zharanthixil had reduced Sabine's chance of winning. With a concerned whisper, Janius leaned to Kaleeth, "What does your father hope to achieve by doing this? Does he just want to see Sabine getting hurt?"

It seemed that just as Sabine felt like she was regaining some semblance of control, it had come crashing down again. The appearance of the Master-Hunter was enough to make her uneasy, but the translation made her eyes dart around and her heart race. He must have picked a stronger and more skilled opponent because he didn't like the pack. This other boy, Wutanxeex, was not picked as an even match. Meesei's comfort was at least enough to encourage her to shakily pick out a wooden staff from Tunxeek's arms and step forward. Before anything, she uncorked the waterskin that held her strength potion and downed it as fast as she could, almost breathing some in by mistake in her rush. Now she would just have to take the poison that they mentioned and the bout would begin. If she hadn't noticed that she was shaking before, she was most certainly shaking now. She had to hold onto her staff tightly just to keep her fingers still.

Tunxeek himself didn't offer any words to Sabine after upsetting her earlier that morning, but his face showed some fearful concern as well. Father was right, Wutanxeex was not an even match for Sabine. And with the way he parroted the Master-Hunter, he might beat Sabine to a pulp if they let him. At least, he thought. He wasn't sure if even he would go that far.