“Zarsh will live. In fact, he is quite well, all things considered. Only…”
The crowd held its breath as someone prompted, “Only?”
Sighing, the shaman continued. “I am afraid that siring an heir will no longer be possible for him. There is no other option but to bring him to the sacred grounds for the change.”
Murmurs swept through the village at the news. A few individuals gave you dirty looks, but most seemed resigned to this outcome. You even caught one or two snickering.
Turning to your companion, you asked, “So, who’ll be the new leader?”
The older male chuckled. “Oh, Zarsh will still lead, if I know his stubbornness. Female chiefs are not unheard of, though they are rare. Even more rare are chiefs who became female after losing a duel, but that’s only because the duel was usually over the position of chief in the first place. In most of those cases, the victor became chief and got a free bride in the process. In this matter, you were not fighting for leadership but simple marital dominance, which I’m assuming no longer applies.”
“So I won’t be his wife anymore?” Relief flooded you, though with a strange mote of regret.
“You can be if you want, but somehow I don’t think you do. Besides, Zarsh will no doubt be seeking a suitable husband straightaway. Strengthening the tribe is all he cares about, whether it’s by taking a strong wife or bearing strong young.”
At this point, four males came out of the shaman’s tent, bearing a rudimentary stretcher on which sat a gloomy Zarsh. His lower abdomen had been bandaged up and his scales had lost a bit of their shine, but he held himself erect and dignified, still the proud leader.
As he passed you, your eyes met. You expected anger or hatred, maybe even sadness. Instead, he gave you a nod. Respect. That was what you had demanded if you won. Now, in his eyes, you had earned it.