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"Come on, Burzum," Naaja demanded, her already high voice pitched even higher than usual because she knew it annoyed the thrall. She might have gone a step farther and referred to him by his rank instead of his name, but experience had taught her that her reluctant guard would become unpleasant when she did that. He was a proud one, Burzum, for the blood of a defeated and exiled lion.

She sighed with impatience as she looked over her shoulder at the older white lion. His legs were longer and he was plenty capable of moving at a faster pace if he chose to do so, but Naaja had never managed to figure out how to make him hurry. Nothing seemed capable of doing that. Not even the threat or actuality of violence. He bore both with a seeming indifference that was positively uncanny. Even knowing that there was nothing she could do, she couldn't resist adding, "If we don't hurry we'll be late."

"And that would be the first harbinger of ragnarok, I'm sure," Burzum replied. He didn't make any effort to hide what he was saying from the ears of his charge. Let her hear.

Naaja was not inherently a bad person. He knew that. Even so he hated her. He hated her father and all the rest of her family. He hated that he was responsible for keeping her alive when he wanted nothing better than to destroy her whole family. It was a cruelty on her father's part, although the less subtle members of the pride saw it as a cleverness or an act of mercy. Burzum knew better.

"The fights do not begin at any set time, you little idiot," he informed her. "Therefore you could not possibly be late. And since no one else knows that you're going, no one will care when you arrive."

He had done his best to keep her from going to watch the reavers practicing their fights in the sand, but his run of success had at last come to an end. He would have to face being seen as the slave of the lion who had exiled his grandfather by the lions he had hoped one day to lead.

Tall was only a short distance away, also making his way to watch the reavers fighting, when he overheard this conversation taking place. He didn't recognize the voice of the warlord's daughter, but he knew her when he saw her. He was not familiar with the white lion speaking to her, but his rasping voice sounded like a villain's voice if ever the young freeborn had heard one. Whoever that lion was, he had no right to speak to Njal's daughter like that.

"Mind your tongue when you talk to the daughter of the warlord," Tall growled, stepping forward and doing his best to look large and intimidating. Compared to the lean adolescent he wasn't much, but he wasn't afraid at any rate. His father would be proud of him for that, although what he was about to say would have earned him a cuff for idiocy.

"I gather you're going to watch the reavers fight. If you cannot be civil, I will meet you on the sands."

"Burzum," Naaja said in a warning tone, knowing as she said it that it was useless. Tallskog had provoked him and Burzum had risen to the bait. If Burzum were a more biddable thrall, Naaja would not have been bothered by it and would have been content to ignore him as Tallskog was attempting to do, but it would do no good.

She moved to interpose herself between Burzum and Tallskog, creating a physical deterrent to stop the older lion from attacking the blond freeborn. It might not be much of a success, given how much she knew Burzum despised her, but he had never yet hurt her physically. He was verbally cruel, but her father had exacted from him an oath to defend her, and that had so far protected her from anything worse.

It did not seem like it would be enough in this case though, as the thrall moved more quickly than she and soon stood just in front of her new acquaintance. She hadn't even seen him move.

"Start quaking, little piglet," he growled. "I will meet you on the sands and then you will get an astoundingly close view of the fighting. Not that you'll have the opportunity to explain what is being done to you as I tear your insides out and strangle you with them."

His teeth were inches from the younger lion's face, clearly visible where his lips had drawn back. It had been too long since he had been in a fight. There had been beatings, but he had not been able to fight back during those. The warlord had been smart enough to see to it he could not, and to beat him until he could not stand, let alone fight. These had made him stronger. It would not be a good fight, not against this bragging little pissant, but it would feel so very good.

"Of course, you are welcome to hide behind our respective ranks. As a thrall, I must accept your decision in this. Perhaps, though, you could ask your father about me. He had the training of me before you were ever born, you know."

Tall hadn't even seen the white lion moving, and suddenly the older lion was standing bare inches before him with his teeth pulled back, spitting threats and insults. Despite himself he was intimidated now as he had not been before. His father had never spoken of another lion that he'd trained, but it seemed like the sort of fact that the thrall would not have made up out of the blue. And there was the little lioness's reaction. She acted as if she knew something about the thrall's fighting behavior that Tall didn't. Something important.

"It is hardly hiding if I refuse to fight a thrall. The honor would be all yours, and I'll not lower myself to a fight with a saboteur with delusions about his own importance." He moved to step around the larger lion and hoped deep down that he wouldn't be intercepted again. He would have to fight if he was, and this was not a fight he could win. His father would be neither pleased nor proud of him for losing such a fight.

"Now move out of my way. I believe I heard your mistress express a concern about missing the fights."

Naaja wrinkled her nose that both of the lions were using her involvement as a way to insult each other. Did neither of them realize that she was, in fact, rescuing them? She was rescuing Tallskog from Burzum and Burzum from her father. They should both be grateful to her.

"I'm Naaja," she said shortly. "And I've had quite enough of this conversation. If you're going to the sands, I can't stop you, but I don't think I need you condescending to teach me about how the fights work. I'll ask a real reaver if I have questions."

She sniffed and stalked off, indifferent to whether Tallskog or Burzum followed her. At this point the two could kill each other and she would not care in the slightest. Naaja sometimes got so very tired of the posturing and threatening young lions engaged in. She wished they could just grow up. She never saw real reavers acting like that.

Naaja's little fit of temper was not something Burzum appreciated one way or another. He did not feel particularly that he had been rescued, and if he had been he would have resented it. He didn't mind being removed from this stupid conversation though. It was a waste of everyone's time. Not that Burzum had anything better he could be doing while he was bound to follow Naaja everywhere.

He did not turn to look at Tallskog, or give any other indication that he had any more thoughts about the young lion at all. For the most part, he hadn't. He had learned that spreading his hatred around made it harder for him to concentrate on what was truly important - his hatred of Njal and his family. Everything else was relatively unimportant in comparison.

For now he was doing his best to convince himself that he didn't care about what the lions sparring would think of him, seeing him shadowing the daughter of the lion who blinded his grandfather and exiled or enthralled his family. It was something he would have to face, and if need be he would fight anyone who said anything. That thought gave him comfort.

Tall was bewildered by the suddenness of the little lioness's dismissal and bad temper. He couldn't figure out what had made her so snippy all of a sudden. He and her thrall guardian hadn't actually fought, but even if they had, he'd always been under the impression that females liked to be fought over. Or near. He was beginning to understand why his father found them so worthless.

"Fine then," he said, his lip curling in irritation. "Have fun. Good luck getting any of the real reavers to pay any attention to a little girl and her thrall shadow."

He sneered at both of them and stalked off to make his own way to watch the fighters at practice. It was too bad the warlord's daughter had turned out to be like that. He'd tried to be polite and everything. Ugh. Women!