nd not be seen in his humanoid form.  That was a solution that Renoit hadn't considered, most likely.
	"It's going to be tricky practicing on the deck of a ship," Tarrin said dubiously.  "The ship moves, there's people in the way, and I'll lose too many arrows.  I don't have a good bow, either."
	"Where is your bow?" Faalken asked.
	"Walten still has it," Tarrin replied.  "After this happened, I didn't see much need to keep it."
	"That's not a problem," Sarraya piped in, flitting up and landing lightly on Tarrin's shoulder.  "How long did you have the bow, Tarrin?"
	"Years," he replied.  "My father made it for me."
	"Easy enough.  Hold out your hands."
	"What?"
	"Just do it, Tarrin," Sarraya said winsomely.  "Trust me."
	Tarrin wasn't sure what Sarraya wanted, so he held his paws out.  The Faerie left his shoulder and hovered just in front of his paws, and he felt her reach out with her power in a peculiar way.  She held her arms out to the sides of her body, and she actually began to glow with a very faint light.  Then she pointed at him, and to his surprise, his bow simply appeared in his hands.  It was his bow; its every curve and faint scratch were still intimately known to him.
	"Impressive," Faalken said appreciatively.  "How'd you do that, Sarraya?"
	"Magic, Faalken," the sprite teased with a grin.  "Druidic magic lets us conjure things.  We can also use it to summon an object intimately connected with someone, so long as it's not that large.  Tarrin's father made his bow, he owned it for a long time, and it's small enough to fit in his hands.  That connected it to him, and let me summon it to him."
	"Neat trick," he commended.
	"I've learned a few useful little tricks here and there," she said grandly.  "Here's another trick for you.  Hold it still, Tarrin," she commanded.  Tarrin did so, and the Faerie reached out and touched the bowstring.  His bow shimmered for just a second, then faded.  "There.  Now the bow and the bowstring can't break or be cut.  Just in case you want to use it with your paws," she told him with a smile.
	"That could be useful," Faalken chuckled.
	"Just trying to be more than a paperweight, Faalken," Sarraya told him.  Tarrin could sense the underlying need to make amends in her voice, one of her ways for atoning for what she did.  Tarrin could accept that.  Sarraya had started off on the wrong foot, but she was steadily working herself back into the good graces of those around her.  Just like Camara Tal and Phandebrass, Tarrin rather liked the little sprite.  She had gotten on his nerves, but he'd felt that way about nearly all his friends here and there.  It was part of his nature.  He still didn't trust her, though.  He pulled on the bowstring tentatively, feeling its familiar pull, a pull that felt much weaker now that he was so much stronger.  He extended a claw and put its cutting edges right on the bowstring and tried to sever it, but true to her word, the bowstring would not cut.
	"Thanks," Tarrin said, nearly involuntarily.  "It'd feel weird using some other bow."
	"You're welcome, Tarrin," she replied.
	"Well, I guess you can practice the bow while I teach you," Camara Tal said after a moment.
	"I'll conjure you some arrows, Tarrin," Sarraya promised.  "They won't have steel heads, but I can weight the front of them to simulate that.  That way you'll have an unlimited supply."
	"I guess that would work," Tarrin said, but he privately worried that being exposed to both Camara Tal and Sarraya may be too much for his nerves.  Especially since they didn't seem to get along with each other.  Well, scratching them up a bit would convince them to be civil in his presence, and he wasn't going to give up on learning how to accept them.
	He'd have to wait and see.
 
Chapter 19

	It felt strange to hold his bow again.
	Tarrin stood at the bow of the ship in human form, holding the bow in his hands and letting his mind wander over memories of what seemed to him to be long ago.  Back when he was human.  He would range through the Frontier with his bow in search of deer, going alot further than he was supposed to go.  It was a very good bow, made by his father's careful hands, and with a pull so strong that not many men could draw it, and fewer could hold it pulled for very long.  That draw was customized for his strength, at least back then, giving the bow power.  His father's careful craftmanship had ensured the bow had deadly accuracy, depending only on the condition of the arrow used with it.  He had owned the bow for only a year before leaving Aldreth.  He had given his old bow to Jenna, which had been made for him when he was fifteen, and his father had made him a new bow, a much larger one more suited for his size and strength.  Jenna still hadn't grown into his old bow, and now that she could use Sorcery, he doubted she ever would use it.  A pity, it was a very good bow.
	The pain of holding the human shape gnawing at him, he pulled the string back and sighted down an imaginary arrow shaft.  It felt lighter to him now, easier.  His human form was human, but because he was Were, his human shape was stronger than it had been before being turned.  Not a whole lot, but it was enough for him to feel the difference in pulling the bow.  Of course, compared to his inhuman strength he enjoyed in his natural form, he felt like a little kitten.  Just pulling back the bow flooded him with memories of lessons from his father, memories of bucks he'd had in his sights, memories of how to shoot his bow with proper aim.  The memories were enough to drown out the pain and the nagging unease he felt with the Amazon and the Faerie so close to him.  Camara Tal sat on a short barrel, whittling knife still worrying at a piece of wood, as Sarraya hovered in the air with her wings buzzing just beside her.  The two of them were quiet, for a change.  All that morning, they had been sniping at each other.  Camara Tal didn't like Sarraya, and Sarraya wasn't too fond of Camara Tal.  Their fighting had upset him, upset him so much that he didn't want to practice the bow.  It was nearly enough to make him abandon them to their arguing.  They'd settled into an uneasy silence now, probably because they'd run out of bad things to say to each other.
	He looked out over the expanse of ocean, feeling very relieved.  They had left the Tears that morning, and had not been challenged by anyone else.  Odds were that the pirates they let go had warned everyone else that trying to attack the garish ship was suicide.  The average pirate was just like any mercenary or hireling.  They were interested in getting as much as they could with as little danger as possible.  A little deckfight was normal in the pirating business, and it was something the average pirate would risk for some booty.  But a pirate would not tangle with a ship that carried a pack of dangerous magic-users.  That was just too much risk for only the chance of some booty.  The raw power they were carrying was as much a security blanket as the fact that their ship was so distinguishable.   They wouldn't even be attacked by accident.  Only a blind man could mistake Renoit's ship for some other.
	Sometimes Tarrin thought he could learn to love the ghastly pink ship.
	Free of the Tears, the performers had gone back to their practicing.  Allia helped one of the acrobats learn a new move near the stern, and Dar was practicing his Illusions near the mainmast, conjuring up portait-like Illusions of people and landscapes.  The strongmen and jugglers were taking their turn as the ship's sailors, handling the sails and rigging to catch the erratic wind as it wavered from the southwest to the northwest.  Faalken was with Dolanna on the steering deck, with Renoit.  He knew Dolanna was watching him.  She knew he was having trouble with Camara Tal and Sarraya, and he bet that she wanted to see what he would do when he was exposed to both of them at the same time.
	"Alright, here's an arrow," Sarraya piped, holding her hands out from her tiny body.  A wooden arrow simply appeared in front of her, with gray fletching and a wooden head, and it clattered to the deck.  "Tell me what you think."
	Tarrin picked it up and inspected it.  It was straight and rugged, but its balance was off.  "It's too front-heavy," he replied.  "A steel head doesn't weigh that much."
	"How much lighter?"
	Tarrin measured the arrow and set his finger under the effective centerpoint of the arrow's center of gravity.  "It should be balanced at this point," he said, holding the arrow up for her to see that point, some fingers forward of the shaft's middle.  When he removed his steadying hand, the arrow sagged at the front until it began sliding off his finger.
	"I love it when I have visual aid," Sarraya grinned.  She pointed at the arrow in his hand, and it simply disappeared.  A second later, a new one was in its place.  "How's that?"
	Tarrin weighed it, and nodded.  "Perfect."
	"Well, you can't be shooting down the ship's deck, for obvious reasons," Sarraya said.  "I thought I'd make a small target made of light for you off the rail, and let you shoot into the sea instead."
	"That's a pretty good idea," he agreed.  "Can you control the light?"
	Sarraya nodded.  "I know you'll be shooting into a crosswind.  At least if we do this from the side.  We could go up to the bow, or up on the steering deck instead."
	"The bow would be better.  Tailwinds don't affect an arrow's flight as much as a headwind."
	"Why is that?" the sprite asked curiously.
	"A tailwind pushes the arrow ahead," Camara Tal answered for him.  "A headwind slows it down.  Shooting into a headwind means you have to raise the bow and fire at a trajectory.  That's not easy to calculate."
	"I didn't ask you," Sarraya said shortly.
	"You didn't not ask me either."
	"Hmph," Sarraya snorted, flitting away from the Amazon.
	"Pardon my opinion, but you look strange like that," Camara Tal told him, pointing at his human form.
	"It feels as strange to me as it looks to you," he replied.  "This isn't very comfortable for me."
	"I know, Triana told me about that," Camara Tal assured him.  "You going to be alright?"
	"Allia taught me ways to ignore the pain, at least until it gets too bad," he replied.  "I'll be alright for a few hours."
	"Good.  But if it starts bothering you, let me know," she said.  "I know a spell that deadens pain.  It could help."
	The idea of letting her use magic on him made his heart seize in his chest.  That required trust, and he wouldn't let her get that close to him.  Goddess only knew what spell she'd really cast if he allowed her to use magic on him.  "No thanks," he said curtly, turning and nocking the arrow on his bow, then smoothly drawing it to get a feel for the conjured missle.  He tried to empty his mind of stray thoughts as he was taught, to prepare to fire the arrow with accuracy.
	But as soon as he tried to center on the arrow, he got the strangest feeling, like a phantom collar had been snapped around his neck.  That was enough to throw him into an absolute panic, making his heart lurch and his breath catch in his throat.  He let go of the bowstring immediately, causing the arrow to fly off the bow in a wobbly arc and making him whirl around quickly to see where they were.  Camara Tal was still sitting on the barrel, looking up at him, and the Faerie was hovering some distance from her on his other side.  The Amazon gave him a calm look and put away her whittling knife, then stood up.  "That was pathetic," she said calmly.  "Let me see that bow."
	What she didn't seem to sense was the momentary sense of panic Tarrin was suffering.  He had turned his back on them, and when he did, just for that fleeting instant he thought one of them had done something.  The feeling of that collar around his neck was something that he would never forget, and it still had a tremendous power over his behavior, even though it was long ago destroyed.  Seeing the Amazon, the stranger, approach, Tarrin threw down the bow and changed form, returning to his more powerful humanoid shape, and he put his ears back in warning of her approach.
	That got her attention.  "Don't raise your hackles at me, boy," she said in a commanding voice.  "I'm not going to bother you.  I just want to see if the bow is damaged."
	"Just get away from me," Tarrin hissed threateningly, settling into that slouching posture that served as his fighting form and extending all of his claws.
	"I told you not to take that tone with me, Tarrin," Camara Tal said ominously.  "I'm not going to hurt you."  She didn't stop, though, continuing to approach him.
	"Uh, Camara, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Sarraya said in a very serious voice.
	"Do what?" she asked, turning to look at the Faerie--
	--and found herself laying flat on her back, frantically grabbing at the clawed paw that was clutching her by the neck, holding her down.  Those claws were driving into her neck and shoulders, drawing blood, penetrating past skin and digging into flesh as the pressure behind them increased.  "I said get away from me!" Tarrin shouted at her with a vicious glare, picking her back up by the neck, then tossing her across the deck like a rag doll.  She landed on her side, sliding a few spans on the scrubbed wood, then coming to a stop.  She raised up on one arm and looked back at him, blood flowing from her neck and shoulders.
	"Do that," Sarraya told her.  "When a Were-cat shows claws, you don't take another step towards him."
	"I see," she said ruefully, wiping the blood away from her chest and looking at him calmly.  Tarrin's eyes were lit from within with their greenish aura that marked his anger, and he glared at her flatly, eyes and body posture promising something worse should she try again.
	Red haze clouded Tarrin's judgement.  The panic over the feel of that collar allowed the Cat to overwhelm him, and he no longer saw Camara Tal as an associate.  She was a stranger, and that made her an enemy.  Work and practice on the deck stopped as everyone turned to look at the disturbance, but Tarrin didn't see or even register their presence.  His entire attention was affixed on the Amazon, and should she rise and invade his personal space again, he wouldn't be so gentle with her the next time.
	Then Allia was there.  With quick, soothing words and hands on his shoulders, the Selani quickly and efficiently talked him down.  Sanity returned to his mind, the Cat retreated back to its place in his mind as her reassuring presence and scent washed over him.  He put a bloodstained paw to his forehead and shook it as if to throw off cobwebs, then looked at Allia with a little uncertainty.
	What had caused that?
	"Allia," he said in a shaken voice.
	"What happened, my brother?" she asked soothingly.
	"I turned to shoot the bow, and all I could feel was like something snapping around my neck.  I just couldn't help myself.  I thought Camara Tal tried to collar me."
	"She didn't do anything at all," she assured him.  "She was sitting there the whole time."
	"I know, but I couldn't help it," he said with a sigh.  "I'm going to go lay down a while."
	"Go ahead, I'll be there in a few minutes," she told him, and Tarrin rushed away, one paw's claws still dripping Camara Tal's blood onto the deck.  It had been powerful and completely uncontrollable, and he knew that what he needed was some time away from everyone else, some time to calm down and try to make sense of what had happened.  Well, he knew what had happened, but he needed some time to understand what had caused him to remember that feeling at just that time.
	Her magic.  He was thinking about her using her magic on him, and it made him afraid.  Maybe that's what provoked it.
	Scurrying quickly to the stairs, he moved to get himself away from the gazes of the performers, of his friends, seeking a place of quiet and solitude where he could get his nerves untangled.

	"That was stupid, Camara," Sarraya teased the Amazon from a safe distance.
	"I've dealt with him in that mood before," she said with not a little uncertainty.  "He's knuckled under to me.  What set him off?"
	"If you wish to deal with my brother, learn to respect my brother," Allia told the Amazon stiffly.  "You did not respect his wish, and you paid for it.  He does not trust you.  He will kill you if you press him too far, and he will not even bat an eye over it."
	"I'm trying to win his trust, Selani.  Sometimes that means I have to take chances.  He won't respect me if he thinks he can push me around."
	"It is your life," Allia shrugged.  "I suggest you care for it more.  And if you wish to live long enough to stand on dry land again, I suggest you listen to the Faerie.  She knows much more about the Were-cats than you, and she can warn you off if you do something so foolish again."  She gave the Amazon a steady, unwavering look, then she rushed off after Tarrin.
	Camara Tal glanced at the grinning Faerie, then snorted.  "Shut up," she said gruffly, getting back to her feet.

	After spending an afternoon and evening curled up in a little ball against Allia's stomach, allowing her to spoil him a little bit, he returned to what Renoit asked of him.  Camara Tal and Sarraya were there, but they gave him a large breathing space, large enough so he could turn his back on them and not be unsettled by their proximity.  That had to be what it was.  He knew them, but that was the first time he had turned his back on them and tried to concentrate on something other than them.  He had lowered his guard, and the fact that he did caused his mind to conjure up a memory of what had happened the last time he turned his back on someone he thought was trustworthy.
	And in a strange way, it gave him a little hope. That he would in fact drop his guard with his back to them, even for a fleeting moment, gave him hope that he could do overwhelm his fear of them and accept them both.  After all, he did like them.  Sarraya was funny, and Camara Tal was a staunch, dependable woman with a personality he could understand.
	He made no apologies to Camara Tal, and she didn't bring it up.  She had pressured him beyond his breaking point, and she paid the price.  If anything, he saw it as a learning experience for her.  He could tolerate her presence, he even liked her a little bit, but she had to respect his personal space, and also give ground to him when he was adamant about being left alone.  It was little to ask of her, and if she couldn't follow those simple rules, maybe it was better if he killed her now, just to get the inevitable overwith.  He knew what she wanted from him, and it was something he was trying to give, but she had to just back off and let him try to sort through it on his own.  Trying to push him into things only triggered his defensive instincts, and she'd already learned what his defensive instincts did.
	It set up a pattern for Tarrin that continued for nearly a ride.  He would practice with his bow during the morning, shooting at little target balls of light that Sarraya created for him out over the open water, then he would spend time with Camara Tal after lunch and let her teach him her language.  After that, he would eat dinner with his friends, and then spend the rest of the evening with Allia, playing stones or chess, reading, or just dozing on her lap or against her side.  Sometimes Faalken, Dolanna, or Dar spent the evening with them, talking, playing King's Castle or betting games like Tall Man's Bluff.  The time of quiet normalcy eased Tarrin through the episode with Camara Tal, and got him back to a point where he could stay in close proximity with her for extended periods of time.
	Sarraya was another matter.  He often stood as host for her as she sat on his shoulder or on top of his head, and he often forgot that she was there.  She knew many interesting stories, and entertained Tarrrin and Allia more than a few nights with her old folk tales as they played chess or stones.  She knew as many stories as Phandebrass, but hers were stories of the Fae-da'Nar, so they were much more original and unique than the doddering wizard's tales from around the world.  Since the misadventure with Turnkey, she had stopped being such a pain, and that had made her much more accepted both by Tarrin and by the rest of the ship's population.  She still played a few pranks, but they were very mild and nothing that would make anyone angry.  And he had to admit, she was a rather funny person.  She had a sharp tongue, a razor wit, and a flare for the melodramatic.  Tarrin was alot closer to accepting her than Camara Tal, though he didn't entirely trust her yet.  She didn't impose on him or push him or make him feel uncomfortable anymore.  She simply talked, made jokes, and quietly worked herself back into Tarrin and Allia's good graces.
	Eleven days after leaving the Tears, the Dancer found itself coming out of a light shower.  A strong tailwind pushed the ship along, emanating from the gentle rainstorm, sending them faster and faster towards their goal.  Tarrin was at the rail with his bow, shooting arrows in long, arcing trajectories towards small targets that hovered some three hundred paces away.  Each shot took time, because of the winds and the distance involved, but he was always very close.  He hit four shots out of every five.  It didn't take him long to get back into form with his bow, but he still didn't feel as comfortable with it as he had at one time.  The annoying pain of holding the human form was one thing that distracted him, as well as the twinge he felt at turning his back to Camara Tal to shoot over the rail.  She was too far away to make him feel threatened, but that thought was always in the back of his mind.
	"Look, a rainbow!" Sarraya said in wonder, flitting up to his side and pointing back to the stern.  "Isn't it pretty?"
	"They say that the woman who can find the end of the rainbow will have her heart's wish granted," Camara Tal mused as she came up beside the human-shaped Tarrin and looked at the rainbow.
	"I know what you'd wish for," the Faerie said in a wicked tone.  "A man that never gets tired."
	"I'd settle for just getting my husband back," she sighed, a bit forlornly.
	"Which one?"
	"I may have more than one husband, but only one counts, bug," she replied.  "The others are political marriages.  I barely see them.  They all have their own concubines, so they don't really need me."
	Tarrin saw Phandebrass and Dar on the other side.  Phandebrass was pointing at the rainbow, his arms making gestures as he prattled on to the young Arkisian.  Dar seemed fascinated with whatever he was saying.
	"A man is a man," Sarraya dug.  "Especially when it's multiple choice.  Do you line them up at night, or is it first come, first serve?"
	"You're very close to getting your wings ripped off," Camara Tal snapped at the Faerie, putting a finger the size of the sprite's leg in her face.
	"I thought you said marrying Koran Dar was political," Tarrin said.  He had no doubt which husband to which she was referring.  He was the only one beyond her reach.
	"It was arranged, it wasn't a political marriage.  We were married when we reached the age of adulthood.  I really liked Koran, so I had my mother get him for me."
	"Sounds like he wasn't quite so enthusiastic," Sarraya teased.
	"I guess he wasn't at that," she grunted.  "Koran doesn't hate me, he just wanted more out of life than being a house-husband.  He was cursed with an adventurous spirit.  That's a bad trait in an Amazon man."
	"So why did you take him?" Tarrin asked curiously.
	"I happen to like bad traits in men," she replied honestly.  "If you'll excuse me, I want something to drink."
	"Huf-fy," Sarraya chimed after the Amazon left.
	"I think you hit a nerve there, Sarraya," Tarrin said as the sprite landed on his shoulder and sat down.  "Camara Tal has some very serious feelings for Koran Dar."
	"I know.  She loves him, but that Amazon pride won't let her admit it.  No wonder he ran away.  If my husband never heard me say 'I love you,' I think he'd run away too."
	"You're married?" he asked, looking down at her.
	She nodded with a smile.  "A hundred years next summer solstice," she replied.  "Aldio is a sweetie."
	"I didn't think Faeries married.  I thought you were too erratic for that kind of commitment."
	"Erratic?" she huffed.  "Excuse me!  You think someone who likes new things can't settle down with one person?  That's ludicrous!"
	"Sometimes I wonder," Tarrin replied.  "Faeries seem too flighty to concentrate on one idea for more than a few moments, let alone a hundred years."
	She smacked her heel into his upper chest.  "You rat!"
	Tarrin ignored her, concentrating on Dar and Phandebrass.  He didn't know that the two of them talked all that much, but then again, since Dar was so charismatic and he was so pursued by the ladies on the ship, it was no wonder he sought refuge by talking with Phandebrass.  "I wonder what they're talking about."
	"No doubt the mage is describing the physical process of making a rainbow," Sarraya said with distaste.  "Why can't humans just see the beauty in something without having to classify or quantify it?"
	"You've been hanging around Dolanna again."
	"She does have a vocabulary," Sarraya giggled.  "Impressive for someone who's speaking a language that's not native."
	"Dolanna's an impressive woman," Tarrin said respectfully.
	"In what way?"
	"What way would you like to hear first?" he challenged, looking down at her.
	"Uh, nevermind," she said.  "Looks like her mistressness is coming back."
	Tarrin turned and saw Camara Tal returning.  She was wearing her sword belt, and was carrying  one of Faalken's older weapons, the sword he stopped using when Tarrin gave him the magical blade.  "I need something to keep me busy," she said, tossing the sword to the deck in front of him.
	"What is this?" Tarrin asked.
	"That's a stupid question.  Pick it up.  I want to see how well you can handle yourself."
	It was a bad idea.  She didn't understand that she wasn't like Allia.  Tarrin trusted Allia, and if she hurt him, he wouldn't turn on her.  There wasn't any such prohibition with her.  But then again, in his humanoid form, she couldn't pose any threat to him.  Her weapon couldn't hurt him, and he could easily overmatch her.  Besides, he needed to learn how to trust her, and maybe crossing swords with her would help break down his distrust.
	"Give us some space, Sarraya," he said as the sprite flittered from his shoulder.  Tarrin reached down and picked up the sword, feeling its light balance, gripping the pommel, made so the user could wield it with either one or two hands, and feeling his paw take up its entirety.  He placed the blade in the palm of his other paw and looked at the sword, then looked at her.  "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.  "I'm not a human, Camara Tal.  I'm way out of your league."
	"No, you're way out of mine," she replied.  "I watched you fight, boy.  That was pathetic."
	"Excuse me?" he asked in surprise.
	"I saw a half-grown kid flailing around a stick in the midst of a bunch of toddlers," she berated him.  "You showed no form, no poise, no skill.  You just went in there and bashed on people, relying on your inhuman gifts.  That may work against a pack of untrained scrags, but you'll get your tail chopped off if you do that against someone that actually knows what she's doing.  Dolanna and Allia say you're trained.  That you're trained by the best.  If that's true, they must be really embarassed."
	Her words were starting to work under his skin.  "I can take you anywhere, anytime, and with any weapon," he said threateningly.
	"Like that, maybe," she admitted.  "Not many humans could face one of your kind in a one on one battle and come out on top.  But you're not going to face me like that.  You're going to do it in your human form."
	Tarrin stared at her.
	"You've gotten too used to being the big kid on the block, boy," she told him.  "It's time for some reality.  Now change form and face me, and show me what you really know."
	Her admonishment stung at his pride, but all of him wanted to smack that smirk off of her face.  He was trained by the best.  Nobody, not even him, could defeat Allia in fair combat.  Even in his humanoid form, with his huge strength advantage, he couldn't beat her.  She and his mother and the Knights and the Vendari had trained him, had taught him the true secrets of fighting.  His form may occasionally be sloppy, mainly because he tended to fight up or down to the level of his opposition, but it didn't change the fact that he was convinced he could beat her.  Even in human form, he could beat her.
	Tarrin changed form, feeling the shoes appear around his feet, felt the weight of the manacles disappear as they went into the elsewhere, felt the painful constriction of his form into a mold which was no longer suitable for it.  The sword suddenly felt heavy to him, sagging in his hand, but he gripped it in both hands and bolstered himself.  It wasn't really that heavy, it was just an effect of losing the majority of his inhuman strength in the shapeshifting.  His human form was much stronger than it looked, but it wasn't even a fifth of the strength he enjoyed in his natural form.  In his human form, he was restricted by his human body, and was diminished with human senses.  But those restrictions and senses were still greater than a true human's, for he was Were-cat, and it bled into him no matter what form he held.
	Her words had angered him, but not enough to make him lose his composure.  But she didn't know that.  Sword in both hands, he snarled at her and rushed to the attack, furiously, clumsily, looking to do nothing more than just hack at her wildly.  She set herself to accept his wild rush, but at the last possible instant he pulled up and swept the flat of the weapon low, under her unprepared defense of such a cunning maneuver, and cracked the flat of the blade against her ankle and shin.  The power behind the blow as enough to pin her in place for a vital second, long enough to grab her by her halter with one hand, turn his side to her, then drag her over his presented hip in an Ungardt hip-throw.  Her backside slammed into the deck first, followed quickly by the rest of her, and she bounced once before coming to a rest in front of him.
	He pointed the tip of the sword at her nose, staring down the length of the blade with a flat, unfriendly look in his eyes.  "Cute," she said in a bored tone