The Shaman rode into the woods following the tribal leaders who scrambled to get a hold of the reins of their men whom they had just sent in so recklessly. The mistake was made hours ago and the lost troops were miles away from them. The Shaman's apprentices and warriors accompanied him awaiting orders. He signaled his troops to take the lead in front of the tribal leaders. The Shaman longed to hack the survivor into pieces. A smaller group of the village warriors handled the war dogs or rather tried to handle them, carrying Soleiman's left behind rag to help the dogs trace the scent. The men that had joined from the village were dumb as rocks. There were only a few of them. They were assigned some of the war dogs. Even if they somehow managed to find a way to mess it up, at least it will be of some entertainment to the rest of them. The rest of the dogs were handled by the warriors. The Shaman resisted the urge to slap his forehead in disgust every five minutes or so as he looked at the men he was supposed to trust with the task. The warriors were trained fighters and the apprentices could be trusted of at least doing what they were told but the hunters were the most ignorant of the lot. They lived away from the civilization and only emerged from the woods at the time of festivals and feasts. The Shaman didn't worry about it for the sake of future but only for the present. The throne was imminent to fall in his lap. As soon as it does, he will beat them all into shape. The dog herders expected the dogs to pin point the direction for the group so they strode ahead of the rest. The dogs maintained their natural tracking pace so the herders had to break into a jog. Moments later, the rest of the group could only hear the dogs growl and bark as they had run so far ahead that they were lost in the woods. The group followed the voices. The Shaman intended to lead the pack but decided that the dogs had a better shot at tracing the general direction so he followed like everyone else.
Hours went by and the pack felt weary and hungry. The tribal leaders and the village warriors chose to hide their discomfort as the Shaman feasted on supplies laden on his ornate horse. The warriors were noticing the suddenly changed indifferent and thorny attitude on show by the Shaman but they were on orders to do as he said by their Chief. They reached a cliff that abruptly ended the land and started the vast river. The dog herders were scattered in the particular area trying to comprehend every growl and bark of the dogs as they combed the shrubs and hedges. The dog pack looked to have arrived at the scene hours before the Shaman.
"Found anything worth telling me?", asked the Shaman from the horseback, gnawing on a chicken drumstick like a starving stray cat.
"Nothing yet but the mutts pulled us here precisely. They seem interested", one of the warriors herding the war dogs responded dutifully as the dog he herded tested the strength of the leash by tugging it enthusiastically while it sniffed the bushes.
"If you are to find something, do it quick. I don't have all day to waste, running around behind the good for nothing mutts", the Shaman spat. The warriors dutifully carried out the orders when one of the dogs snuff out a torn piece of white cloth just before the edge of the cliff. "I think I have got something, Shaman", the herder of that dog exclaimed. All the warriors gathered around. They had a feeling that the torn cloth wasn't the only clue that spot had to offer. They were soon proven correct as they found a set of footprints leading off the cliff into the river which even at that pleasant noon hour gave the glimpse of the Red sea and Pharaoh on that fateful day. The dogs seemed to be interested in the prints as well. A warrior peeked off the cliff, into the river and shuddered at the thought of having a dive.
"That crazy rascal!", a dazzled warrior muttered.
"That's crazy alright. That sucker saved us some leg work. Let's get to the bank fetch his rotting corpse, if the fishes have left something of it", the Shaman ordered.
The group started to walk with the river with a decreased speed. They were a lot calmer with less urgency in their search. Even the Shaman looked to be a bit soothed. The cliff was at least fifty feet above the river level and right below the cliff were hundreds of unforgiving sharp rocks that would cut open a person if he just stepped on them let alone dive on them. If he somehow manages to survive the impact, the merciless current of the river will surely pull the life out of him. Only an outsider would decide to voluntarily make the decision to jump into the river as the villagers have witnessed dozens of their kin die falling off the same cliff. The group was carefree but the dogs were as frantic as ever. They almost dragged their herders behind them.
The stroll went on for an hour or so and the search party had lost their shape and determination. They were laughing and gossiping with one another and the Shaman didn't seem to mind. He himself was lost in his thoughts. Suddenly an apprentice cried and shouted, "Panther!". The entire group scrambled to find their footings and clawed their waists for weapons. The warriors formed a circle around Shaman and faced outward. The Dogs didn't seem to detect the beast. They didn't budge from their original course and pace. The herders put all their effort to keep them from running further. They waited for a while. Nothing moved or made a sound. The warriors clutched their axes and tried their best to make out anything in the woods around them. Even the Shaman pulled out his ceremonial short sword. For a moment it felt like even a falling leaf wouldn't go unnoticed but nothing happened. The apprentice who had shouted, started to doubt his judgment. The group gradually eased themselves and broke the formation. All happened without the orders from the Shaman. He had no knowledge whatsoever about martial formations and tactics. To this day he had thought of the commander as a dog owner who simply lets go of the leash and the beast carries out the job. But today the warriors were on their own and had to rely solely on their training.
The group had softened their stance and started hurling profanities at the apprentice who had raised the alarm. They all had a huge laugh on him and the apprentice wasn't much bothered because the apprentices were accustomed to much worse derogatory treatment, at least what happened today was happening in a lighter mood. The apprentice laughed it off. They had started to move again when a large black figure leapt into their view from behind the Shaman. The panther was not a construct of the apprentice's imagination after all. It looked young but still had a body worth being afraid of. The beast didn't offer the group any time to react and pounced on the nearest man it could find, which unfortunately turned out to be the same apprentice who had alerted them. Poor guy couldn't even muster up enough courage to lift his axe. In an instant he was tackled to the ground and the beast went for his throat. He let out a gargled scream while his brothers couldn't do anything but step back and watch him die. It didn't take long for the apprentice to stop resisting. The beast pulled out the trachea of the unfortunate deceased and threw it in the air and turned to the rest of the group. The pack gasped in horror and scrambled for cover. The Shaman was wide open. Tai sighed and dismounted the horse. The beast stared right into his eyes and the Shaman stared back. The rest of the group realized that they were not on the beast's radar so they stopped and watched. The beast slowly prowled towards the Shaman and Tai stood his ground. The panther broke into a sprint and dashed to the Shaman. The Shaman waited. As the beast took the final jump, he threw a slash with his short sword and stepped aside. The beast was full of energy when it jumped but not so when it landed behind Tai. The panther bounced once on the ground and collided with a tree that stopped its motion. The predator was soon lying in a pool of its own blood.
The whole group was in awe as the Shaman wiped off the blood from his ceremonial sword. He realized it and yelled, "let's move, you good for nothings!".