The KoraKora caught up to us today while we marched.

The scout’s horn blew off to my right. I never saw him through the rain but somehow he saw us. As soon as we heard that death rattle carry through the downpour we ran. His call was muffled, but the rest of the KoraKora were closer to us than we would have imagined so it didn’t matter. They were upon us in minutes.

We found a small rise on the bank of the river that was clear of puddles and made our stand there. They didn’t bother with arrows in the rain, their bowstrings most likely rendered useless when wet. They simply threw themselves at us through the water.

The puddles were deep; they slowed the attack enough that we could keep the KoraKora from making it to our level. The cannibals came from every direction. It didn’t take long for the puddles to run red. Dionus struck down at them on all fronts, calling the wind to thin them out and make the fight easier on Balthandar and me.

Even Timber drew Balthandar’s Klotian blade from his pack and began hacking at the approaching horde. Though she lacked skill or experience, her ferocity made up for a great deal in the fight.

We fought like that for far too long before a few arrows began ripping through the rain. They were no more accurate for the weather, but they posed a new threat. Dionus was distracted by his efforts to block them. His vision and sense of the air were confounded by the rain, forcing him to react at the last possible moment to each arrow that might have found its mark.

A few of them did. I don’t think any of us walked away without at least one arrow sticking out of an appendage. Balthandar took the most, three in his shoulders and one in the same spot he was cut on his leg.

We would have been overwhelmed had Inifra not kept her promise. As the fighting dragged on, the fatigue and wounds wearing us down, two canoes landed on the bank behind us. The men piloting them shouted for us. We backed away from the fight. Dionus spun his fury for a few moments to cover our retreat, and then we were on the water.

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I saw him watch us go: The chief of the KoraKora. His headdress of bones and feathers were clear in the haze. He stood on the bank of the river, watching until everything had faded into gloom and gray.

We have been on the river ever since. One of the men piloting our canoes speaks enough of the common tongue to communicate. He says that they missed us the day before, traveling too far south along the river. They would have gotten to us sooner had there not been a massive tree in the water this morning blocking their path.

We should make good time now, he says. I hope we make good enough time to leave the KoraKora well behind.

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