He stood stunned and slow; I sprang. He broke from immobility too late. With blade at his throat, I asked in a hoarse growl, "How long have you been in these mountains?"
"Please-have mercy. I followed our leader's word," he pleaded. Before death, men grow like pups.
"Tell me how long." I barked.
"Over a week. We came up for an expedition."
"You are far from home?"
"Only a few miles-our village is close. But this wilderness is ours. We've hunted here for years. Your allies would take that right."
"Are there more camps on this mountain?" I asked, a spike of anxiousness.
"No-only your allies." His words twisted my brow.
"I have no allies here," I rebuked. "Tell me exactly who is on this mountain."
"The hostiles-cruel men-led by the one called Dakor."
Cold cloaked me at the name. Fear and ire braided into a living thing. My source had been true-Dakor had come to these heights.
"He's been here a week," the hunter stammered. "He's banned our hunting. His men plunder the forest, taking the game."
"And you and your friends risked this for meat?"
"We had to," he said, flinching as the steel kissed his skin. "Our village starves. They seized our grain. We steal what we can."
"You thought I was one of his men?" I asked.
"Yes."
"How foolish. If I served him, killing me would only bring greater vengeance upon your village." I pressed the blade firmer. "You are lucky he hasn't leveled your home."
Despair painted his face-the sort I knew well. He told how Dakor's men rode the village: taking food, treasures, and the worst-they took daughters and wives for vile purposes. Tears tracked down his cheeks.
I was bitter and silent. Such was Dakor's pattern: inflict pain, then feed on it.
"Which of them?" I asked softly.
"A sister and a friend," he whispered.
"A bitter fate," I said. "But tell me-will you lead me to him? If I do not end him, who then will bring him to justice?" I eased the blade away.
"Your allies coming?" he asked, confused.
"I have none," I said and smiled grimly. "You will come with me."
He stared as if I were mad. "They are a host. They are strong."
"Then choose a better ally," I said lightly, and took up my saddle. His mouth opened in awe and fear.
"We cannot go alone," he protested.
"Do you want justice for your kin?" I asked. He flinched at my tone. "I will cut the snake's head and then deliver justice. But you must lead me. What use are you if you will not lead?"
He hesitated, then rose into resolve. He took up the dead leader's tomahawk, and we set out.
The sun burned as we broke from canopy to high ground. From there we spied the camp. Strange silence lay over it - no shout, no neigh, no sign of life. The dying fire sent a thin thread of smoke to the sky; clothes lay scattered. The camp had been here an hour ago-it was recent.
Had they ridden off on a raid? Or had our crack of rifle driven them into flight? Either way, Dakor had slipped my fingers once more.
"No!" I roared, and kicked the steaming pot into the embers. Rage flared; the thought of Dakor vanishing so easily made bile climb my throat.
Then the hunter's shout cut me: "Over here!" He had found the largest hut. I dashed in, heart clawing for any sign.
Inside lay a company of women, bound and ravaged, left to die of cold, hunger, or beasts. The hunter's face bloomed into joy as he untied a sister and a friend.
"What happened?" I asked, voice raw.
"The hostiles," the eldest answered. "Hearing the thunder of firearms on the mountain, they thought Kedrone's patrol had come. They left us to the wolves."
"My people were taken," another whispered. "They left us." Tears fell, slow and bitter.
Even bent to vengeance, my heart blackened at such cruelty. No more words were needed. The women stepped out into sudden light; the hunter embraced his kin. Joy so pure struck me near to tears.
I lingered. My gaze fell on a wooden desk - a carved mug, and a scatter of rough sheets. I stepped closer to look, expecting only camp scrawl and nothing more. But fate showed a small mercy: maps. Dakor's plan lay crude and honest on the table.
My throat tightened. This paper could put me a step ahead. What had I for weeping and brooding? I gathered the sheets fast. While the hunter and women searched the tents for supplies, I strode to my horse.
"Wait!" the hunter called, running up. "Let me come. He has broken our laws. He deserves judgment."
"What is your name?" I asked, settling to my saddle.
"Peticus," he answered.
"You are a good man. I wish we'd met under kinder skies. But this path is mine alone. Take these women home. Live and protect them. My way is for me." I handed him a nod and a soft, hard smile.
He bowed, then watched as I kicked my stallion into a gallop. Dust rose; the women cheered. I rode away with Dakor's map in my pouch.

A new hunt now began.