Only one review for the last chapter? Aw, what happened? Is it that you're bored of the story or just couldn't be bothered reviewing? Or was the last chapter not worthy of a review? Or did you not have time to read it? Or did you just not want to read it? Come on, let me know- I promise I won't hold it against you. :)

Thanks to Wolfwind97 for reviewing the last chapter :D

Chapter 17

It was almost like a replica of the Oramine city they'd been in. The houses were in the trees- except while the Oramine had tidy huts, these tribespeople had platforms with woven mats of twigs and leaves rigged above as a roof. Cords of rope hung down from the platforms. The tribespeople had the same skill of climbing as the Oramine; they swarmed up the ropes without effort. Maybe they were Oramine once upon a time. But it was difficult to imagine them out of their rags, with their hair brushed and beards groomed.

Will and Halt melded into the trees, observing. The tribespeople had much to be desired in the way of organisation. They brought in fruit and dumped it in a pile; meat they chucked in the ashes of a fire. Then when one was hungry, they'd just go and help themselves. They gauged themselves, juice running down their chins, tearing hunks of meat with their teeth. It cause many a fight; another would come over and start throwing punches to get the food.

The women strolled around with furs around their waists and their chests bare. They dozed on rocks and picked at the food- no one fought them for it. Their offspring tackled each other, playfighting like tiger cubs, chasing butterflies. Men hunted and gathered and fought. There was a lot of fighting for the food and for the women too. When it came to the women, there was no punches or kicks. They went straight to their spears. The loser lay on the ground as he slowly died of bloodloss and the victor took the woman to his platform.

They were brutal. Perhaps they had to be, living their whole lives in the forest. They were also silent. It was something that disturbed Will. Fist against skin, grunts of pain, the occassionale cackle of confusion or laughter; all these things were heard clearly because the rest of them were so quiet. When they weren't swept away with adreneline they were like wildcats.

The whole tribe housed about fifty people, Will estimated. He saw fifteen children under the age of thirteen and five women. The rest were men.

He felt Halt moving beside him. Slow, deliberate movements of course as his mentor slipped backwards to a less vulnerable spot. Will followed him, and before long, Halt deemed it safe to whisper.

In Will's ear he breathed, "they seem to be doing rather well here."

"Better than us," Will agreed ruefully. "Where do you think they got all that rope from?"

Halt shrugged. "Maybe they know how to make it. Or maybe they've stolen it from somewhere. There could be a hamlet in the jungle somewhere- there's plenty of food and materials around if you know how to use them that could be an advantage for a small community."

Will brightened. "A hamlet? Do you think so?" Even as he said it, the tribespeople tickled the back of his mind. The jungle itsself- the sloping trees, and wild birdsong, and never ending dangers, and the way the shadows under the canopy draped around you until you struggled to remember what life in civilised society was like. "You don't think," Will mentioned, "that the tribespeople started off as a hamlet?"

"They could well have done," Halt agreed, the forest reflected in his dark eyes. "I can imagine how they would go mad in a place like this."

Will could feel green vines closing in on him. He swallowed, a vivid image of himself appearing in his mind. Himself, with bones in his curls, darkened skin in a tattered loin cloth. "They've turned into the jungle," he said, horrified. "They've long forgotten humanity. They're wild animals."

"And we have to deal with them like wild animals," Halt said.

"So what do we do?" Will asked. A weight was lifted off his shoulders at the question. He wasn't the sole leader, the one responsible. Halt was well again. Halt wasn't going to die.

Suddenly, a wall of emotion collapsed on him. He couldn't even recognise it, it was everything. Despair at Ruch's death, relief at Halt's survival, a jolt of deja vu from when he was an apprentice and just did as Halt said and oddest of all, nerves about what Alyss would say when he got home to propose to her.

Will's knees shook and he would have sunk to the ground if Halt hadn't stepped forward to hold his elbows. The grip wasn't as strong as it had once been, but it was enough and Will leaned into his mentor.

"I think it's hardly fair that the tribespeople have so many resources while we have next to nothing," Halt said. Will had his chin on Halt's shoulder and an awkward hand was patting his back. "Don't you think?" Halt prompted.

Will pulled back, steadying himself. "I think that is very unfair," he said slowly.

"They have a lot of rope," Halt supplied. "They wouldn't miss some of it."

"Rope would be useful," Will said, thinking of snares, a more secure shelter, and perhaps even a raft over the river. "How would we go about getting it?"

Halt had his answer prepared. He had been considering courses of action as they'd spied on the camp. "I'll distract them, you climb to the top of the rope and cut it off."

Will frowned. "How do I get down when I've cut the rope?"

"Find another way down. You're a good climber, you'll manage."

They crept back to the tribespeople. Will followed in his mentor's footsteps. He hesitated then laid a cautious hand on Halt's shoulder.

"Halt," he whispered. The older ranger turned around, one eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Maybe I should distract them."

Halt frowned. "You're younger and nimbler than me. You'd be able to climb undetected better than I could."

"Yes but," Will began awkwardly, "you've already..I mean, you've just...I just mean to say that..."

Halt brushed the hand off his shoulder. "I'm ready for them this time," he said, guessing the reason behind Will's jumbled sentence. "Don't worry about me. I've faced far more dangerous things than a crazy man who can't remember how to talk."

"But-"

"Stop fussing," Halt said, a harsher note to his voice. He continued to the tribe, Will trailing nervously behind him. The younger ranger left his spear behind. If he was to climb, it would be of little use and mild hindrance.

"Don't look for me," Halt reminded in an almost inaudible volume as the tribespeople came into view. "Focus on getting the rope." It was the first time Will had ever been so serious about stealing such a common thing as rope, but the tool could give them their escape. A raft, he told himself. They could make a raft and sail over the river.

Yet an escape would be no victory if Halt got himself killed. Will bunched his fist in Halt's shirt, refusing to let go. He was unable to articulate his fears. When Halt shot him a look, he just met his mentor's eyes, anxious.

Halt must have seen right through him. He placed one hand over Will's and gently removed it from his shirt. "I know what I'm doing," he said. "I have my cloak. I'll disappear." His uniform was intact, unlike Will's shabby, frayed cloak hanging from his shoulders to his waist.

With some reluctance, Will nodded. He turned his attention (most of it anyway, there was a part of him still concerned about Halt and wishing he could foresee what was about to happen) to the platforms. He picked one that had no one on it and moved to be near. He couldn't see Halt anymore, but a few moments later he heard a thunderous voice say, "I've seen grannies who can protect their home better than this!" In a flurry of movement, the tribespeople were drawn to that point.

Will raced into the open. He did not move cautiously, nor did he look around to meticulously assess whether anyone was looking his way. He trusted the confusion to hide him and gripped the rope with both hands. As a seasoned campaigner, he didn't rush up and risk falling. Rather, he took his time to inch up the rope and if he happened to reach the top quickly, that was because he was a skilled climber and his comfort speed was faster than that of most.

His boots hit the wood of the platform without a noise. He released the rope. Will had his obsidian dagger at his belt and he drew it now. It made him feel remorseful to use it because he remembered crafting it while Ruch made his sword and comparing the advantages and disadvantages with the old Oramine. He forced himself back to the present. Below him, the tribespeople were starting to realise there was only one man out there and return to their daily activities.

Will sliced the rope. He knew he could waste no time. He began to coil it up so he could carry it. As he did, his eyes were darting around everywhere. The tribespeople made no noise, he knew. He feared they would stalk him and he wouldn't notice.

He did notice. Of course he noticed- he was a ranger. A tribesman was on the platform beside his, one that was slightly higher than Will's. Just as the ranger had bundled up the rope, the tribesperson leapt from his platform to Will's.

Like all of them, he had a spear. Will circled backwards, eyeing up the obsidian point and thinking how wrong it looked in the hands of an enemy. His heel balanced on the edge of the platform. It took him by surprise, he hadn't realised he'd gotten so close to the edge, and he nearly fell. He windmilled his arms, the rope uncoiling, as he tried desperately to regain his balance. The tribesperson lunged with his spear. He couldn't balance enough to dodge without falling. Instead, Will pushed back with his feet, leaping from the edge as he fell to make sure he covered some distance. The rope flew out before him. He kept a tight hold of it in one hand. With the other, he managed to trap a tree branch under his arm. Now he was one tree over from the tribesman, who blinked down at him. He was also just under the platform in this tree.

Will hadn't remained unnoticed now. Two tribesmen started up the tree after him. Another one grabbed the end of the rope that now trailed on the ground. They tugged at it. Will set his teeth, refusing to let go. He wasn't about to go through all this drama and get no payoff.

He swung onto the branch so he crouched on it. Bracing against the trunk, he tried to pull the rope from the other's grip. No luck there. The tribesmen swarming up the tree were just reaching his position. Will slashed at them with his dagger, but their spears had a longer reach. They were practised at climbing with them and Will now wished he too had brought his spear with him. He had to lean right back to avoid the sharp point.

The tribesperson pulling on the rope was about to pull him right from the tree. The others were about to spear him through. Will dropped to the next branch down, reaching up to slash the leg of the nearest tribesperson. Blood dripped down the ankle. The tribesperson slid down the trunk so he had a good space to stab with the spear. Will dropped another branch down. The other climbed onto the branch above, thrusting the spear down. Will ducked- it touched his hair.

Swiftly, because he knew he had to start getting aggressive if he was to escape alive, he switched hands so he held the knife and the rope in the same hand and grabbed the handle of the spear just before the obsidian point. He pushed it up, knocking that tribesperson out of the tree and acquiring a more sufficient weapon than the knife. He let the wood slide through his fingers until he held the blunt end. A spear points flashed at him. He pressed against the trunk to dodge it. Then he stabbed at the tribesperson, the spear sticking right through his thigh. Will didn't have enough purchase in the tree to pull it back; he released the handle as the tribesman with the spear in his thigh toppled from the tree.

Will knew he had to keep the momentum. He was pulling against the rope and a tribesman pulled back, actually balancing him somewhat. If the tribesperson was to suddenly stop pulling, he'd fall backwards out of the tree.

Halt was yelling again, he heard. Maybe his mentor had noticed his troubles and was trying to draw their attention away. The one on the rope paused to glance around but wouldn't let go. The one that had fallen from the tree had hit his head on the ground and the other had his hands around his injured thigh.

"Let go dammit," Will muttered. The other tribespeople were now distracted with Halt, it was only the one with the rope that still bothered with him. He could see no way of successfully getting the rope. So he dropped it. The tribesperson staggered back. It gave Will a few seconds, precious seconds, to scurry up the trunk before he was being pursued.

There was another rope on this tree and he leapt onto it. The tribesperson wasn't far behind him. He leapt onto the platform and spun on his heel, slicing the rope with the tribesperson still on it so that they fell to the ground. He heard the crack of a body. Noises like that, they didn't sink in until much later when the adreniline had died down.

On this platform, there was a little statue, about the size of Will's hand. It was made of wood, with flat squares that twisted around each other like a spiral staircase. In the centre of it was a waxy, melted down candle. He had a feeling that he'd seen a candle like that before and tucked it away in his jacket without thinking about it. Then he shot down the tree and gathered up the rope. He disappeared into the forest.

They had arranged a meeting place where Will had left his spear. He retrieved it now and waited for Halt. His boots scuffed the earth as he paced back and forth, fearful that he would wait all night and still not hear from his mentor.

However, it wasn't long until Halt arrived back unharmed. Will grinned and held up the rope, promptly forgetting about the moments of terror now that they had both escaped unscathed with their prize.

"What'll the others say when they see this?" Will wondered aloud as the walked back to the camp.

What they did say was not quite what he was expecting.

"What were you thinking?" Lillian exclaimed. "It's almost dark. There could be tigers or bears or wolves out here that'll eat us when you're gone."

"Sorry, sorry," Will said. "We got rope!" He grinned at the, waiting for them to say 'oh what a useful tool!' None of them had much enthusiasm.

"What are we going to use it for?" Sirisa asked doubtfull. She was curled up against Antil. His arm was around her, sharing his warmth.

"We can buid a raft," Will said. "We'll tie bits of wood together and sail over the river back to Oramin."

Sirisa eyed him with absolute horror. "We can't!" she argued. "Don't you remember the river monster?"

"We won't be in the water," Halt assured her, settling down under the shelter. "We'll be over it."

"What if we capsize?" Sirisa pressed.

"We won't capsize," Will said. He tried to sound sure of himself. He didn't think he succeeded.

"But if we do? That fish will bite into us, lacerate our skin, the water will turn red with our blood," Sirisa described in lurid detail. Lillian squeaked and Sirisa scoffed at her- even though she herself was too frightened to go near the water.

"We can't give up," Will said. "We have to try. Don't you want to be reunited with your families?"

"I have no family," Sirisa spat.

Will bit his tongue, searching for something to say.

"Family or no family, you don't want to spend the rest of your life in the wild," Halt said evenly.

Sirisa dropped her gaze.

Lillian hesitated. "Maybe, if you did a test run first to show us it's safe, maybe then it would be alright?"

Will nodded. "Right, Halt and I will do that. Antil? What do you say? Don't you want to see your wife again?"

Sirisa cut in before he could answer. "It's not worth the risk," she snapped. But Antil was nodding. She shifted away from him, bristling. "It's not worth it, Antil!" she said.

"Any fate the water will bring us is no worse than that of the jungle," he said. "I say we do it."

Will grinned. "That's four against one. Sorry Sirisa. We're going rafting."