They were on their feet before either of them decided to move. Iruga had the sword half drawn, the firelight catching the blade. Chiyo was still, arms at his sides, eyes on the dark between the trees.

  The growling did not come closer. It sat where it was, low and patient, filling the space between the branches.

  Then it stepped into the edge of the light.

  The silhouette came first. That was enough. It was vast — the rough shape of something that should not have been able to move quietly but had, the bulk of it blocking out the trees behind it. The head was wide and round, feathered at the edges, two large eyes catching the firelight and throwing it back. The body beneath was heavy, furred, forelimbs thick as old timber. It stood on four legs and its shoulders were level with the top of the elm's lower branches. Iruga put it at five meters, maybe more. The shadow it threw across the camp was longer than the camp itself.

  Iruga's grip tightened on the sword.

  "Owlbear," he said quietly. "It must have seen the smoke from the fire."

  Chiyo looked at it for a long moment. Then the tension went out of his shoulders and he made a short sound that was almost a laugh.

  "I got scared for nothing," he said. "I thought you were the celestial guards sent to hunt me." He looked at the owlbear with something close to disappointment. "Turns out you're just an animal."

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  Then Chiyo's expression changed.

  He stepped forward, putting himself between Iruga and the owlbear, and when he spoke his voice had dropped into something with no humor left in it.

  "Witness the fragments of my power."

  His eyes went red. Not a reflection of the fire — a light of their own, steady and deep, burning from somewhere behind the iris. The air around him thickened the way it had in the cave, heat rising from his skin in visible waves, the red aura bleeding outward and pushing the firelight back. The ground around his feet dried. The grass curled.

  The owlbear went still.

  Then it took one step back. Then another. Its eyes stayed on Chiyo, wide and unblinking, and it made no sound.

  Iruga watched it retreat and let out a slow breath. He began to lower the sword.

  Then the owlbear opened its mouth.

  "I meant your party no harm."

  The voice was a woman's — clear, unhurried, coming out of the beak of a five meter owlbear as naturally as if it were the most ordinary thing. "I saw the smoke rising from these woods and thought they were on fire. I came to investigate." A pause. "It was my fault for appearing this way. I apologize for the fright."

  The red in Chiyo's eyes did not go out immediately. The heat held for a moment longer.

  Then he turned and looked at Iruga.

  Iruga looked back at him, sword still half raised, the firelight playing across both their faces.

  Neither of them said anything.