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We couldn’t leave. Not now. I had made a horrible mess of things. We couldn’t leave, and we couldn’t stay.

The beating of wings filled the air overhead. I looked up, relief flooding my veins as Nightclaw and Sunstrike came into view. Moonlight gleamed on the cats’ sleek fur and glinted along their sharp claws as they descended, eyes gleaming as they prepared to join our struggle.

The sound of my quickened breath mingled with the rhythmic thuds of the exmoors’ wings, air vibrating with the impending clash.

And then the battlecats touched down.

Instantly, their powerful roars exploded, reverberating off the mountains and shaking the stones around us.

The clash of claws against scales mixed with the beating of heavy wings and the whistling of wind. Sand churned and rocks heaved as the exmoors attacked the serpents with ferocity, claws finding purchase on the snakes’ invisible forms wherever they could catch one.

Heavy paws stamped upon serpent heads with sickening accuracy. Sharp exmoor teeth tore into invisible flesh, ripping through their adversaries with primal determination.

Then it was over. The once-invisible serpents lay dead or writhed in agonizing defeat.

The exmoors stood in the moonlight, their claws stained with spectral ichor, breath billowing hot in the aftermath of the struggle.

I lowered my hands and stepped forward, my eyes linking with Nightclaw’s. The cat sat on his haunches, looking at me with inhuman intelligence. I gazed back at him with pride and sadness, remembering a time when his sleek and lustrous gold-and-black striped fur had been unkempt and matted, when his true worth had been ignored, undiscovered.

Now, his amber eyes were filled with reproach, as if he were asking why I had not called for him as soon as we had been attacked.

I cast my eyes away, tears unexpectedly pricking at the corners.

“I will not use you,” I said aloud. “I will not be like him.”

The cat stared back at me in silence, then lifted a paw and heavily slammed it down onto the ground. He gave a low growl and prowled towards me.

I held my ground, waiting, until finally the exmoor lowered his majestic head and pressed his furred forehead against mine.

“I chose you,” he told me. “There is a difference.”

The tears pricked more painfully. I squeezed my eyes closed. “You have your own life to live. I won’t have either of you risk yourselves.” I opened my eyes and looked at Sunstrike who was watching us in silence. “Besides, you have your mate to think of. I know what she’s been hiding.”

Draven had come up behind me. Now I sensed him freeze.

“She’s carrying your cubs,” I said aloud, not caring who heard anymore. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t matter. I won’t put either of you in any more danger.”

Nightclaw let out another low growl and turned his head towards his mate.

Had he known? Surely he must have. Animals could sense these things. They could even smell them. And Nightclaw and Sunstrike were no ordinary animals.

“If you truly want me to ask for your help,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Then please keep watch over my friends tonight. I... I did something stupid. They need me, but I can’t be here.” I turned and pointed upwards at the door that was, thankfully, still glowing in blue and silver. “I’m going inside there. Only Draven can come with me.”

Nightclaw’s growl was loud enough to shake the ground this time.

I flinched but continued, “I need you to stay with Lancelet and take care of Guinevere and Hawl. Where I’m going, you can’t come. Please accept that.”

I reached out a hand and lifted it, gently running it over his head. “You have no idea how much I wish you could be with me, Nightclaw. Don’t you know how much strength you give me just from knowing you exist? That you care?” My voice broke. “But Sunstrike needs you, too. You have to take care of her now. Only her.”

Now Draven stepped up. “I’ll watch over her for you. You have my word. She’ll return to you.”

I brushed a hand over my eyes. “We have to go now.” I looked over at Lancelet. Her face was grim. “Things didn’t go according to plan. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re all alive,” she said. “I suppose that’s all that matters.”

I nodded. Crossing the camp, I grabbed my pack from beside my tent. Draven’s was already across his back. He was wiping his daggers on the rocky ground, trying to clean off the filth from the serpents.

“Time to go.” I tried to make my voice cheerful. “Say good-bye to them for us in the morning, will you?”