Si'Wren wrinkled her nose at the stink of the hyena's burning flesh and
singed hoary hairs, watching the smoke from it's still-flaming hide.
The unity of the squealing pack had been thoroughly disrupted. After
watching a moment longer, Si'Wren set down the little clay lamp on the
rock, experiencing a grim sense of momentary relief. She had expected
hot oil to come out, not fire. Next, she turned resolutely to the
ravine.
It was a daunting task she had chosen, but she set herself to the job
with a deep, shuddering sigh and stepped in, her mere presence
sufficient to scare off any vulture that might have dared oppose her.
Behind her, the sounds of the scattered hyena pack could still be heard
as they screamed for their lives, with the burned one screaming
endlessly the loudest. The few visible remaining hyenas stood at a
respectful distance and watched in great agitation, but none
demonstrated the slightest tendency to challenge her authority a second
time.
She stood over the ruined body of the executed foot soldier, eyes set
to the task. With the scavengers safely backed off, she had a little
more time in which to consider what to do next, and returned to the
stallion and took a braided hemp rope from the saddle, and knotted one
end through a leather pack strap.
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