Chapter Text
“Rufus! The Commander needs a trumpeter!” shouted Hilarion.
It sounded urgent; Rufus, slightly confused, left his position on the fort wall, Typhon clinging to the folds of his cloak.
“What for, sir?”
“You’ll see,” he said grimly. “On the Dancing Ground.”
Worried now, Rufus ran, trumpet in hand and cat on shoulder. No time to set him down.
As he had feared, they were dancing the Bull Calves. To Aquila, it must look like a real fight, which he supposed it half was.
“Stick close behind me and sound ‘break off’!” Aquila shouted over the drums and clashing weapons, and Rufus nodded. Typhon’s claws dug into his skin.
Rufus lifted the trumpet, and then they were striding through the throng. He sounded the notes again and again, right on Aquila’s heels; someone ran into Rufus, someone else punched Aquila in the face, but soon enough it was over.
Typhon came around the front of his cloak, ears back, irritated; Rufus grinned. “Don’t look like that, we saved the day."
As Aquila approached, Rufus explained, “All the weapon dances aren’t this violent. There are better ones we can show you.”
“I’d like to see them.” Aquila smiled, reaching to pet Typhon.