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“The strain could harm you,” I cautioned, feeling protective despite our situation. Through our bond, I already sensed the pressure building within her, like a vessel being filled too quickly.

Her eyes met mine, determination evident in their depths. “Better than becoming that thing’s dinner.”

Before I could protest further, she closed her eyes, focusing her energy through the silver patterns beneath her skin. I felt the burst of disruptive power through our bond, a sensation like being brushed by lightning, painful yet exhilarating.

The drone stuttered in midair, its sensors blinking erratically, emitting a high-pitched whine that hurt my ears. The Trelleth let out a high-pitched keen of confusion as the control signal faltered, its sensory stalks thrashing wildly, seeking the lost connection.

“Now,” she gasped, the effort clearly taxing her. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, and through our bond, I felt the sharp pain lancing through her temples. “Strike now.”

Despite my weakened state, warrior training took over. I grabbed a fallen branch, its wood still green enough to be strong but light enough for my diminished strength. Using it to vaultforward, I ignored the tearing sensation in my wounds as I launched toward the disoriented predator.

My tail whipped forward for balance, the motion sending fresh waves of pain through my fever-wracked body.

I brought the makeshift weapon down hard on the creature’s primary sensory stalk with a precise strike taught to every Shadow Canyon youth. The Trelleth howled, thrashing wildly, no longer focused on us but simply in pain, its primitive brain overwhelmed by the sensory confusion.

The drone sparked and dropped from the air, landing with a soft thud on the damp forest floor. Zara staggered against a tree, one hand pressed to her temple, but her eyes remained fixed on the Trelleth. “It’s retreating,” she said, her voice tight with strain. “The control signal is gone.”

I returned to her side, noting the pain lines around her eyes and the strain evident in her face. “You pushed too hard.”

“I’ll be fine. Just a headache.” She straightened, though I could feel the pain she was suppressing through our bond—a dull throbbing pressure behind her eyes. “We need to move before they send something to investigate why the drone went offline.”

We continued our eastward journey, moving as quickly as my injuries and her fatigue would allow. The ground began to slope upward, the terrain becoming rockier as we approached the ridge line I had identified as our best chance of spotting a patrol. Each step upward sent fresh lances of pain through my legs and back.

The twin suns climbed high, then began their descent. My fever spiked again in the afternoon heat, making the forest swim before my eyes, the double shadows cast by the twin suns seeming to move independently of their casters. Sweat soaked my skin, alternating with chills that set my teeth chattering.

Only Zara’s steadying presence kept me moving forward, her voice a constant anchor, urging me onward.

“Just a little further,” she said, her own breath coming in labored pants as we climbed. “I can see the ridge ahead.”

As dusk approached, we reached the rocky outcropping that offered a view of the valley beyond. The stone was still warm from the day’s heat, radiating against my fevered skin as Zara helped me find a sheltered position against a boulder. The rough surface scraped against my back, but I welcomed the support.

She climbed higher to survey our surroundings, her movements careful on the loose stone. The last rays of the setting suns caught her figure, haloing her in gold and red light. For a moment, she looked more alien than human, her silver markings visible beneath her skin.

“Ravik,” she called down, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. “Look.”

I pulled myself up beside her, every muscle protesting the movement. My vision blurred, then cleared as I followed her pointed finger. There, at the edge of visual range, a pattern of lights flashed in a distinctive sequence against the gathering dusk—three short, two long, one short, repeated.

“A patrol signal,” I said, my voice rough with relief and lingering fever. “Lazrin’s squadron, by the pattern.”

“Can we reach them?” The hope in her voice was almost painful to hear.

I considered our position, the failing light, my worsening condition. I assessed my remaining strength. “Not tonight. But they patrol in a standard sweep. If we descend to that clearing by morning, we should intersect their path.”

Zara’s hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with my larger ones. Her skin felt cool against my fever-heat. Through our bond flowed a complex mixture of hope, relief, and lingering fear.

We had come so far, endured so much. Yet the most dangerous part of our journey might still lie ahead.

“We’ll make it,” she said, the certainty in her voice a balm to my doubts.

I squeezed her hand gently, marveling at how this small human woman had become essential to my survival in ways that went far beyond the physical. My clan’s warnings regarding the marked ones now seemed distant, hollow compared to the reality of Zara beside me.

“Yes,” I agreed, watching the patrol lights move in their methodical pattern across the darkening valley. “We will.”

As we settled for the night in a sheltered nook among the rocks, I tried to ignore the worsening burn of infection in my wounds. I could sense Zara monitoring my condition through our bond, her worry a background hum beneath her outward confidence. My tail curled weakly around her ankle as she sat beside me, the contact instinctive, as though some part of me feared being separated from her even in sleep.

Tomorrow would bring rescue or disaster. There was no middle ground left. As consciousness began to fade, I found myself thinking not of my clan’s warnings or Hammond’s threats, but of Zara’s hand in mine, the shared energy that joined us, and the strange peace I’d found in our unlikely bond.

ZARA