‘This child, as you call her,’ Zakaria said sternly, entering the conversation now, ‘has impressed me more than most mortals who are triple her age. She has fortitude and courage in spades, and an unshakeable faith in justice. Brother, I say this to you, your attitude towards her is based on false assumptions, and, quite frankly, it’s a little shameful.’
‘By the time I had turned seventeen,’ Sharaf countered hotly, his own fiery temper raging, ‘I’d already fought in pitched battles against the crusader armies, killed a French knight in full armour with my bare hands, taken an arrow—’
‘That’s enough now, all of you!’ William shouted.
The sound of his raised voice was not something anyone in the clearing was used to hearing, and it was enough to silence everyone. ‘Sharaf, bloody well come off it, man!’ he growled, his eyes ablaze with jagged anger. ‘There’s no damned hierarchy here, no structures of power! We’re all equal, all of us, we’re all brothers and sisters. I know it’s not how you’re accustomed to dealing with others, but if we don’t do it this way, everything will fall apart, so just stop with your bloody attitude, yeah? The last thing we need is tension and conflict within our group. Our strength lies in our unity, because without it everything collapses. Now, do you really want that? Do you want to hand the Huntsmen our heads on a platter for the mere sake of petty rivalry and a dent in your pride? Over this, this insecurity or jealousy or resentment, or whatever the hell it is you’re feeling, towards a seventeen-year-old child, for God’s sake? She’s braver than most people twice her age and more, and she’s got more guts and drive than many of our own kind. Look mate, I love you, like I love everyone else here, but just shut your bloody gob, yeah? We’re all in this together, but one weak link can shatter the entire chain, and what we’re doing, what we’re fighting for, is so much more important than any one person.’
Sharaf scowled darkly and jutted his jaw out with defiance, but said nothing. Chloe, meanwhile, drew in a deep, calming breath and held it in her lungs for a while, and then slowly released it, as the beastwalkers had shown her to do in situations of extreme stress. With the trickling of air out of her lungs, so too did the anger leave her.
‘I’m sorry if I came off as like, a total bitch,’ Chloe said, extending a conciliatory hand to Sharaf. She knew that she should not have been the one to make an apology, but she had taken William’s words to heart and wanted to make peace for the sake of the mission and the unity of the group.
Sharaf, however, stared at her hand as if it was a twisted stick on which some pungently offensive substance had been smeared. William, however, stepped up to Sharaf and pointed at Chloe’s hand.
‘You’re going to make yourself look even more of a fool in front of the rest of us if you don’t shake it,’ he said softly. ‘Please brother … think with your rational brain, not your temper.’
His eyes like red coals in the deep sockets of his skull, and his jaw jutting with dangerous wrath, Sharaf snatched Chloe’s hand, gave it a quick and almost vicious squeeze, and then turned and stormed off into the jungle without another word. When he was gone, everyone breathed out sighs of relief, and the tension that had been so tightly packed in the air evaporated like a fog hit by summer sun.
‘Chloe,’ William said to the teen, ‘I know that Sharaf hasn’t exactly made the best first impression on you. By nature he is arrogant and abrasive, and he loves conflict and has a short temper. I know that you have a quick temper too, and this right here is a recipe for disaster. To be fair, I didn’t make the best first impression on you either, and that was definitely my fault … but we got past that, and here we are, friends now, yeah?’
Chloe nodded.
‘Do you think you could look past Sharaf’s, er, abrasiveness and arrogance, considering what’s at stake?’
‘Yeah … I can.’
William smiled and the storm clouds were blown as if by a sudden gale from his face, the darkness giving way to the usual blue-sky radiance he wore on the outside; the old façade that masked the ever-present sadness within. Only in his eyes did the sorrow remain, as it always did.
‘Come my friends, my brothers, my sisters,’ he said, turning now to the group. ‘Let’s enjoy our coffee break and talk of times past, and good times to come. It’s rare that so many of us are all gathered together in one place, and while our purpose is severe and circumstances are dire, that’s not to say we can’t celebrate a wee bit on our moments off, no? I’ve got a flask of whiskey here; what do you all say to a few shots thrown into your coffee? We’ll turn these cups of java into Irish coffees, eh lads and lasses?’
‘Yes!’ Zakaria shouted, jumping with sudden enthusiasm. ‘Salut! Come, William, take out that fine liquid and let us drink to the purpose and mission of the Rebels!’
Sharaf,
