By ed. by Robert Asprin
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Extra info for Blood of Ten Chiefs
The hunt understood. Status should be changed slowly; too much attention brought challenges or worse. ** Timmorn's thoughts burned upward from the base of her tree. He did not climb and did not have to. His images carried a commanding power that would have brought even Threetoe belly-crawling through the leaves. ** She followed him, then, to the fire pit, sat atop the fur-draped stone seat of honor, and felt utterly miserable with the eyes of the hunt glaring at her. The others smiled; she was first-born, after all, and more like them than many in the hunt.
Take it if you dare," she screamed at him and watched in triumph as he broke away from her stare. The hunt drifted away from the fire pit, their thoughts as quiet as their tongues. **Like father, like daughter** their thoughts echoed as they accepted her leadership. The first-born, a group of no more than a half-dozen, lingered longer. Their thoughts were confused-wondering if any of them could have done what she had done, or could have done it better, or sooner. The She-Wolf outwaited them. Only Zarhan remained, watching the flaming spear-butt rather than her.
The longtooth. " He leaned toward her, his face almost touching hers. "You must not be in danger. " His eyes widened as if he were seeing something beyond her. He almost smiled. " Seilein collected herself and wondered what had affected Timmorn so. Suddenly he was acting… possessive? Protective? Both concepts were nearly alien to her, to all the elves. And yet, in the flush of sensation she was enjoying, neither repelled her. Quite the opposite. She took his hand in hers. "The beast you spoke of did not cry out last night.