"Which?" I asked.
His eyes narrowed at the second pole from left. "That one's wearing a left-hip knife scar, real pack, the others… check their wrists."
I squinted and the vines hid skin, but the third "youth" held his hands at an angle no exhausted captive would keep...too still. A plant puppet like a Ink dummy.
"Biat!" I pointed. "Third pole...test."
He flicked a bead of burning pine resin and it struck the stranger's sleeve; fabric curled, no flesh scent just puppet. She'd mixed real and false to slow us.
"Take the human first," Lupus said. "Real life trumps decoy."
I splashed forward; Moon Priest threw a hook line, and together we hauled the second pole sideways, slashing vines fast. The boy collapsed into the water and came up spitting, the bell tone under him died..and the flood glyph stream thinned by a third.
The Vine Scribe's smile sharpened. "You gamble well! But try again."
