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As before, the discussion moved along as if without him. At first, comments were meant for his ears, but they soon caught flight and others joined, until they were discussing openly his decision in front of his very face. In a sense, it was fascinating how his words kept themselves alive in this discussion. However he soon grew bored of their insolence, as one after the other proclaimed they would not join the raid, and some slipped away quietly. Chitsa asked to leave and he stared at her coldly, but did not object. She was a free flame, she could do as she pleased, though he preferred that she did as he pleased. He paid no mind to the insolent child and her pathetic mother; the rest of the tribe saw them as they were. They were no more than specks, dirt under his paws. He could have them removed if he so wished, but for now he felt generous. Staring at them as Ralla stepped forward to apologize, and as the newest Guardian reprimanded her severely - and others - Maska finally saw fit to speak again.
"All able men will attend the raid or face punishment. Wounded may stay behind; J'adore, I can understand your dilemma. I ask that you choose between assigning a Guardian to care for them, or care for them yourself." He paused. "We will NOT risk our tribe, nor any member of it!" They were beginning to understand. "We will NOT risk our future." Though frail-looking and lean, Maska was a powerful sight as his cloak and long hair were caught in the wind, and the Great Fire shone on his fur and lit it dramatically. "I have chosen Wematin to lead the raid. I trust in him to lead you in the darkness, along the river, to retrieve what is ours and secure our tribe once again." Finally, he turned and walked away. He could not be bothered to listen to more of their chatter.
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