They were both exposed now, and as she circled him it felt like they were in some primal state. A vision suddenly came to him of her as a lioness and he as a wounded buffalo, both probing for a weakness in the other, waiting for the moment to tear the other to shreds. He knew that a buffalo could overcome a lion by standing its ground and charging at the last moment, and he reasoned that he would, too.

"What game is this?" he spat, tracking her with his eyes, but not moving. "You have defeated us utterly. You can take what you want, and do as you wish. Why do you now curry favor with honeyed words and gifts? And who am I that you should parley with me? Why do you not speak to our chieftain or our master of the hunt, or their sons if they are already slain?"