One look at the warrior was all Otis needed to feel the world tilt. The Elder nearly lost his dignity, and the meager meal he had last eaten threatened to rise as his stomach cramped in terror. He felt a desperate, sickening need to cry out and beg for mercy, but the words withered in his throat.
The look in the warrior's cold purple eyes was frigid, a gaze etched with such absolute determination that Otis was certain today would be the day he took his last breath.
'Just a flick of his wrist would end my life,' Otis thought, his heart hammering like a trapped bird. He sent up a frantic, silent prayer to the Goddess. If this was the end, he truly believed he would be dying an honorable death. No matter the outcome, he was determined to assist their gentle, loving princess until the very end to achieve her goals, the tribe's goals. She was destined for greatness, a light in their forest and the apple of their eye; surely the Goddess would understand an old male's final act of defiance for his young mistress.
Roy stared down at the trembling male for a long, agonising silence. Without breaking eye contact, he tossed aside his bow and arrow. They bounced into the waiting, slightly shaking arms of Bryant, his eager, young, second-in-command.
Under the pressure of the warrior's direct focus, the old Margay male went limp. Otis crumpled into a pathetic heap on the floor, the strength in his legs instantly failing him. Bryant, a young male who recently came into power, obviously, eager to show his authority and his reliable nature to his leader, reached down and hauled the old man back up onto his feet with a jarring tug.
"One of the sisters is still inside, above the wooden stairs of the keep," Bryant announced, puffing out his chest. "She prays to the Goddess in the shrine even as we speak."
Otis took a sharp, rattling breath, the fear making him bold. "The shrine was burnt to the ground when we were last attacked!" he blurted out, his voice a strangled, desperate whisper. "As soon as Healer Frey arrived from her seclusion, she ordered the altar moved into one of the inner chambers to protect it from your kind."
"Frey is the healer and shrine keeper here for the Margays," Bryant volunteered, turning to Roy. "It is just as the scouts reported, Leader. There are two sisters. One is bent on serving the Goddess, her people and heal the world. The other is troublemaker drowning in sins; a wild thing bent on giving us nothing but trouble."
Roy hadn't said a word. He remained perfectly still, processing the information as he continued to loom over the Elder. Otis could no longer meet the warrior's gaze; the intensity was like a physical weight that threatened to crush him. He turned his eyes to the dirt, clasping his hands together until his knuckles turned white.
"Healer Frey is an innocent," Otis whispered to the ground. "She only wishes to continue worshipping the Goddess and pass her days in peace. She is no threat to a mighty warrior like you or your soldiers."
"I want the other sister, Eris."
Roy's voice was soft, yet it carried a chilling finality that made the air in the clearing feel thin. Otis felt his stomach lurch again. Cold beads of sweat broke out across his forehead as he began to silently worry for the safety of their beloved, spirited princess. How could a young unmated and gentle female like her survive a hunter like this?
As Otis racked his brain for an answer, any lie or distraction that might satisfy the Black Panther before him, he was suddenly and roughly shoved towards the ground.
"He's wanting the other one!" Bryant shouted, his face reddening with a mix of excitement and impatience. The second-in-command started to bark another order, but he caught the hard, sidelong glint of Roy's stare and snapped his mouth shut, the rest of his sentence dying in his throat.
Otis let out a shaky breath, struggling back into a kneeling position. He wiped the dirt from his chin and looked up, finally meeting the Leader's eyes with a spark of desperate honesty. "The other princess's name is Eris." He took another deep, lung-burning breath before adding, "She is no longer within the vicinity."
Roy didn't show any outward reaction to the news; he was as unreadable as the stone cliffs surrounding the tribe. Bryant, however, could not contain himself.
"How could she have left? She must be here somewhere." he demanded, his voice rising. He shoved the Elder again, sending the old male tumbling sideways into the dirt. "We have the perimeter secured! Do not lie!"
Roy didn't move a muscle. He remained an observer, watching the interplay between the terrified Elder and his volatile subordinate, listening intently to the secrets the Margay was forced to spill.
"There are many secret passages built into the holding," Otis confessed, his voice cracking with exhaustion. "Did you not wonder why the resistance faded so quickly? Did you not notice there weren't any more Margay soldiers here when you finally broke through our defenses? Princess Eris left with her eldest brother's men a while ago. She is long gone."
The news sent Bryant into another fit of frustration. Bellowing like a wounded beast, he reached down and grabbed the old beastman by the scruff of his neck, his face twisted with the intent to shove his head back into the dirt for his insolence.
Roy could no longer contain his displeasure. He took a single, powerful step forward, his presence expanding to fill the space. Aura leaking out and the air crackling under his power his stare hit Bryant like a physical blow.
He did not raise his voice, but the cold authority in his tone ensured that every beastkin surrounding the vicinity heard him. "You do not show me your strength when you mistreat the elderly, Bryant," Roy stated, the words coming out as a low, dangerous growl. "Nor do you show me your ability to control your emotions when you interfere with my questioning of hostages. Do not take my silence as permission to do as you wish."
The clearing went dead silent. The only sound was the rustle of the jungle leaves as Bryant slowly, carefully, released his grip on the old man's neck.