The warrior did not pursue, but she heard him cursing as he wandered off. She didn’t think she’d run into many more like him – everyone was crowding around their clan cookfires, hungry and parched and short-tempered as they jostled and fought for position. There’d be a few flick-blade duels this night, she expected. There always were, night before battle. Stupid, of course. Pointless. But, as Onos Toolan might say, the real meaning of ‘tradition’ was … what had he called it? ‘Stupidity on purpose’, that’s what he said. I think. I never much listened. I should have. We all should have.
