Each other.
Their maws are bared, fangs dripping strings of saliva, ribs and hips so sharp they almost poke through their dull, bedraggled coats. Some bear gory slash wounds, like they’ve been down there so long, hiding from the Irilak, they’ve been fighting amongst themselves. Perhaps picking off the weak and wounded in their efforts not to starve.
Rhordyn erupts through the entrance and into the shadowed gorge, one of the Vruk launching after us in a desperate pounce—paws outstretched, talons splayed, tail pointed. It collides with the ground just outside the cave’s illuminated embrace.
The Irilak surge like a locust swarm, smothering it, becoming a heaving, suckling mound of black vapor.
I shudder, losing sight of the feeding frenzy as Rhordyn bursts through the trees, charging up the bank so fast my surroundings blur. My creature tucks its wings and scurries through the mess it made, crawling back into my chasm with a swish of its leafy tail—sprigs of emotion shooting from the carnage, packing my insides full again.
We breach the ridge, and Rhordyn flips me off his shoulder. I stumble backward, catching myself against a tree, looking up. His features are a dark twist of wrath and feral condemnation, but it’s got nothing on the sawing fear and slashing rage ripping me up inside.
He could have died.
He could have—
His brows collide, and he peels my layers with a softening gaze.
I spin, giving him my back as I buckle into a knot, digging my hands through my hair, certain a fist is wrapped around my throat—tightening.
He’s okay.
Breathe …
I scrub my face, trying to loosen the snake bound around my neck, restricting my airflow, making my lungs convulse for breath that won’t come.
Breathe!
“Orlaith, open your eyes. Look at me.”He’s okay, he’s okay, he’s okay.“Listen to my voice. I’m here.Breathe.”
My head swims, eyes rolling back.
Weightless.
I become vaguely aware of my body being tucked against his rumbling chest before I succumb to the clawed clutches of my wild panic.
Iwake in a haze, my mind fluffy like the blankets swathed around me and the pillow tucked beneath my head. To the warm brush of evening sunlight pouring through a large window, kissing my cheek, igniting an eddy of dust mites swirling through the air.
Where … am I …
I reach up to rub my aching throat, wincing when my hand brushes the bandage and disrupts the wounds beneath. Visions flash, hard and brutally fast:
Vanth’s flesh melting off his bones as he burned to a crisp.
Sinking to the bottom of The Bowl, trapped in a body that didn’t work.
Cainon’s weight upon me as I scrambled to get free, poison dribbling down the back of my throat.
Calah crunching down on my neck.
Zane falling.
Reaching.
Each memory strikes like an arrow through my chest—so hard and fast I can’t catch a breath before another one hits.
Rhordyn … alive. Charging me against a tree. Lashing emotions that stripped me bare.
Telling me Baze and Zane are okay.
