They were hustled outside, guards keeping watch over them. The camp was in the middle of being packed, with Ohruks of all sizes folding tents, packing saddlebags, putting out campfires, checking harness equipment, and doing all of the menial tasks that have to be done in order that a camp for over a hundred be bundled into a size small enough to cart around. In the centre of the camp, munching happily on clumps of grass and watching the activity around them with mild interest, stood twenty or so beasts of burden - Katters reckoned they were something halfway between a yak and a pony. Standing about shoulder-high, they had thick, matted hair in varying shades of brown and grey, and thick, slightly-curving horns sticking out from just above their eyes.

"Hey," Zebra muttered, "do you think we get to ride on one of them?"

"You probably will, unless you can keep up with everyone else," Thorog said. As he spoke, one of the guards brought another two humans over to the group. They were conversing in a language neither Katters nor Zebra understood. "Our scouts," Thorog said.

"Hey!" said one of them. "You speaking Hilltop?" Katters nodded. "Well, that is a relief anyway. Too long hanging around Ohruks, hearing the throat-clearing they call language. Makes you long for home." He spoke fluently, but with a thick accent.

"Where's home for you?" Zebra asked.

"Ah!" said the other. Like all guards everywhere, this pair came in two sizes - small and large. It was small who had perked up at Zebra's question. "Trying to get information out of us, eh? Trying to weasel the location of our army out of us? Well, it won't work, I tell you! We're not going to give in!"

"So," Katters said, "where's this army headed? Just out of curiosity."

Small glared at large. "Someone can't keep his mouth shut under the threat of torture."

Large had the decency to look ashamed. "He was doing unspeakable things!"

"Didn't even have a chance to get started."

"He was saying though!"

"Yeah, he was saying he'd give you a hiding. That's not torture. I've got worse from my older brother. This is what you get when you have a draft running."

"You have a draft running now? But you only knew there was a war on a few days ago!"

"But Vrene is always having a draft..."

"Vrene?"

There was a commotion from up ahead. The Ohruks were organising themselves - and the pony-yaks - and almost ready for travel. The guards motioned to them, and Thorog muttered, "Better mount up. We're off soon."

Katters, Zebra and Bartholomew managed to get on one of the pony-yaks, while the two guards found themselves on another. Katters was about to turn around and ask Thorog where he was riding when there was a shout at the front. The first row of Ohruks had started jogging, and the pony-yaks were keeping pace. A ripple of activity started running towards them as the next row started, then the next, then the next. Katters just had time to grab onto Zebra (who had grabbed onto Bartholomew, who had his hands firmly clenched in the pony-yak's hair) as it hit them, and then they were moving.

Katters didn't see how the tribe could keep up this pace, but over the morning they did. It was far faster than any pace she could keep up even with her experience at running from police and other, less savoury types. And yet every Ohruk in the tribe managed to keep up with them - even mothers clutching babies and elderly, grey-haired matriarchs, grim-faced but hardly breaking a sweat. It was all the trio could do to keep on top of their shaggy stead, which seemed to know where it was going even without a lead or anyone to guide it, save for the rest of the tribe.

She only managed a couple of words, just after they'd started off.

"He said he was from-" she started, over Zebra's shoulder.

"I know," he said.

"But that's supposed to be west of-"

"I know," he repeated.

"But that means they've already-"

Zebra shot her a glare. "You know?" she asked.

He nodded. She was silent after that.

They jogged over miles of grassland, never once getting caught in a ditch or finding themselves in a narrowing gully. She caught sight of what must be scouts, ranging ahead of and to either side of the main party. Occasionally one would shout something, and the group would veer in one direction or the other - presumably to avoid such a situation.

They stopped around noon. Katters was glad - she'd been afraid that they'd just eat lunch on the run. As soon as the pony-yak had stopped moving, she half-slid, half-fell from its back. Bartholomew jumped off  easily, and was about to run off to look around the camp until one of the guards blocked his way.

"Good news," said Thorog, walking up to them. He wasn't puffed at all, Katters noticed.

"What's that?" Zebra asked. He hadn't dismounted yet, and was gingerly lifting one leg up with his hands. The pony-yak was watching with patient curiosity.

"Not used t'riding yet?" Thorog asked.

"Not for a whole morning, no," said Zebra. "Aaaaargh." He finally managed to lift his leg high enough and dismounted, immediately collapsing to the ground. The pony-yak, its duty filled for the moment, ambled off to find better grazing.

"What news?" asked Katters.

"My tribe's close by. They're sending off a couple of folks with me t'go talk to them."

"And then we stop being prisoners?"

"Well, that depends on talks, but I'd say so, yeah. I'll be back in a few days." He glanced at the Ohruks assigned to guard them. "I've been ordered t'give you this, so you'll at least know what they're saying." He stepped forward and traced a shape in front of Katters' head, a loop like the bugle she still wore on a string around her neck. There was a faint blue shimmer in the air, and suddenly the guttural throat-clearing that was Ohruks talking morphed into intelligible speech.

"Um," she said, "what just happened?"

"It's a translator amulet, much like the one you acquired previously. This one will last a couple of days."

"You're...uh....speaking well," said Katters.

"Well, obviously my Ohrukish is better than my Hilltop."

Zebra glanced between the two of them. "D'you mind doing that on me too?" he asked. "I feel kinda left out on the party."

Thorog repeated the gesture above Zebra's head. Again, the shimmer of blue. "I can speak it now?"

"Can you understand me now?" Thorog said.

"Yeah. Hey, you sound different."

"I'll find the kid and do the same. You keep him alive, and I'll be back to fulfil my promise and get you home."

* * *

Gourds full of some form of unleavened bread and salami were passed down the line. Once everyone had had their share, they were off again, Katters, Zebra and Bartholomew back on their pony-yak. Thorog (with a couple of guards) arced off to the west, separate from the rest of them, as they left. Katters silently wondered if they'd see him again, or whether their one chance to get home had just jogged off into the sunset, but then the pony-yak jolted over the top of a rise and she was fully occupied with keeping on top of it.

Halfway through the afternoon the tribe was brought to a halt by one of the scouts. The Ohruks around them stood around, relaxed but alert, while up ahead the leaders discussed the situation.

The situation, as it happened was a rather large area of flattened grass and burnt-out firepits - the mark of a camped army.

"How many?" Zebra asked as they sat waiting.

"People?" Katters said. "Don't know."

"I reckon that's at least sixty," Bartholomew offered.

"Since when've you been a tracker?" Zebra asked.

Bartholomew shrugged. "Sometimes when my dad went hunting he'd take me, and there'd be about twenty of us, and I remember how big our camps were."

Zebra glanced at Katters. "Don't look at me," she said, "I'm a barber. I think we're starting again."

The tribe was indeed starting again, jogging around to the west and north, presumably on the army's trail.

"If they're - ugh - heading northwest from here, they must've come - agh - from Crossroads, right?" Katters said, as their pony-yak got up to speed.

"Must be," said Zebra, grabbing hold of the beast's coat. "Only place in that direction." His teeth clicked as they vaulted a rock. "Agh! I think I chipped a molar."

They kept quiet after that, and resumed the conversation that evening.

"We must've got out just in time," Zebra said, as they lay about outside their tent. The guard (singular now, and even then he was more a formality than anything else; evidently the tribe felt that with Thorog gone the group posed little threat) sat on a log far enough away that he wasn't intruding, but near enough to step in if needed.

"Did they just march in?" Bartholomew asked.

"Dunno. I don't think the guard would've been much good against them. Anyway, if there was fighting, they wouldn't be out here so fast."

"They must've known something was coming," Bartholomew said.

"And here come the two who can tell us," said Katters, pointing to the two scouts, who were being led over to them. The Ohruk escorting them let them join the group, before sitting near the other guard and starting his own conversation.

"Hello again," said Zebra.

"Oh, you lot," said the small one. "Still, I guess when there's only us, you, and a hundred greenskins, you take what you're given."

Bartholomew stood up. "Greenskin is derry gatory," he intoned.

"Them's big words," the small one said. He turned to Katters and Zebra. "He usually speak like this?"

"He's been getting a quick education in not pissing Ohruks off," Zebra said. "You know, what with travelling with one for while."

"So where are you folks travelling from?" the large scout asked.

"Crossroads, originally," said Katters. "But I don't think we'd want to go back there right now."

"Why not?"

"Well, 'cause you've gone and taken it, haven't you?"

"Us? Take it? Nah, we're just being wossname, support," the short one said. "Since Hilltop didn't have any troops in the area right now, the top brass figured it'd be best if some of our troops protected the northern flank. Sure, we stopped in Crossroads to resupply, but we didn't invade or anything."

"And then what? You just headed off into the grasslands in search of the enemy?"

The short one shrugged. "I dunno. We're just obeying orders. Took long enough to convince the greenies of that, though."

"You saw the campsite though?" Katters asked.

"Yeah, that was ours all right. I'll give 'em that, the Ohruks are fast. We should have almost caught up today." He stood. "Anyway, I'm gonna get some sleep. I don't know about you folks, but riding those pony things all day makes bits of me ache that really shouldn't. I guess I'll see you in the morning."

They said their good nights, and the scouts were escorted to their own tent. The three of them weren't that far behind, and as Katters settled down she had to agree with the short one - pony-yak riding was tiring business. Despite being a prisoner, having their hope of return home disappear on them, and sleeping on the ground, she was sure she'd sleep well tonight.

Which was a pity, really, because that meant she missed most of the ambush.