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I felt him begin to purr under my hand.
“How is your mate’s wing?” I asked. I gestured to the tray. “Hawl prepared all of this for her. To help speed her recovery.”
Nightclaw didn’t answer, just eyed the tray, then serenely turned and padded back over to the deer. Approaching Sunstrike, he licked her neck, then bit it playfully, drawing her attention to me.
As the female exmoor watched curiously, I crouched and carefully placed my tray down beside the dead deer.
The two bowls Hawl and Danielo had put there had seemed enormous down in the kitchens. But now, compared to the deer, they seemed rather small.
“I suppose this could be your dessert,” I suggested, standing back up. “Or a snack for later?”
Nightclaw nudged his mate, clearly trying to convey that it was meant just for her. Sunstrike made a sound of annoyance, but backed up and began to unfurl her wings.
From what we had eventually been able to gather, the younger exmoor had gone off hunting by herself on one of the windier days we’d had. When the wind had picked up and became a strong spring storm, Sunstrike had already been tracking her prey—a large tusked boar—and, understandably, hadn’t wanted to give it up.
But when the boar ran into a dense patch of woodland, Sunstrike had recklessly followed. And that’s when her injury had occurred. Snagging herself painfully in the trees, the delicate membrane of her left wing had ripped.
When she hadn’t returned, a distraught Nightclaw and I had flown after her. When we found her, the wing was a wretched sight, torn and tattered and dripping with blood.
But now, as Sunstrike carefully opened her wing to its full length, I could see how significantly she had already healed. The golden threads that veined the membranous surface seemed to glow with renewed vibrancy. Her fur had regained its lustrous sheen. Though the mending process was not quite complete, her wing showed huge improvement, and I felt filled with relief.
I also knew I’d have to tell Draven we’d be able to leave within the next few days, which might not be exactly what he wanted to hear.
But in the meantime...
“I don’t suppose you’d fancy another flight?” I said to Nightclaw, touching a hand to his fur again to sense his response. “Just a quick one? With another rider?” I hesitated. “I wouldn’t normally ask, but this one is very special to me.”
I’d only requested this of him once before, and that had been my mate. It also hadn’t really been a question. We’d been under attack then and desperate to get into the fight.
But this wasn’t going to be a battle. Just a short flight over Camelot.
Perhaps I wanted to show off a little. Or perhaps I simply wanted to share a little of the joy the exmoor had given me with my friend.
After all, few could say they had ridden on the back of a battlecat.
I felt Nightclaw’s acceptance. There was no reluctance or hesitation. He’d already eaten his fill and was prepared to go.
I saddled him while Sunstrike nibbled on the delicacies I’d brought her, making little sounds of appreciation. Nightclaw watched her the way I sometimes sensed Draven watching me—as if he couldn’t take his eyes off her. As if she were the most beautiful thing in the world to him.
“We’ll be back soon,” I murmured. “You won’t have to leave your mate for long. Just a quick jaunt to the temple. Maybe a few circles over the city. You can leave me there and I’ll walk back.”
The exmoor said nothing, not that I’d expected him to. But I knew he understood every word.
When we emerged from the roost, the crowd let out a roar of excitement. Amusement mixed with annoyance again, and I knew Nightclaw felt much the same.
Then I saw the little girl was still there, waving her tiny stuffed Sunstrike eagerly.
Before I could help myself, I met Nightclaw’s eyes and inclined my head in a question. The older battlecat let out a long-suffering sigh. Then he padded over to the fence, right up to the little girl.
The crowd went silent. I watched the little girl’s eyes become wide as saucers.
Then, slowly, she reached out a hand through the slats in the fence and touched Nightclaw’s fur.
She squealed with glee. “Mommy! Mommy! I touched him! I touched an exmoor!”
I could see envious looks in the faces of adults in the crowd around her. Well, too bad. This wasn’t about to become a regular thing.
Lancelet was still waiting in the same spot on the other side of the enclosure. Draven had disappeared, probably to tend to Medra, and Sir Ector had replaced him.
