Carefully, almost on tiptoe, Jason moved through the beast territory under the bracelet's constant direction. Every few dozen paces the cool voice in his mind would cut in—*left here, not that path; freeze; wait until the wind shifts*—steering him away from faint scents or distant rustles that would have led him straight into another predator's path.
After nearly an hour of this tense, stop-start progress Jason finally spoke aloud, voice kept low.
"Are you sure this is still the right direction?"
*Stop asking questions and just do as I say.*
"I'm not doubting you," Jason muttered. "I just really don't want to end up as someone's meal."
*Do you have any idea how many beasts you would already have walked into if I let you choose the path yourself?* the bracelet replied, dry as old bone. *Keep moving.*
Jason closed his mouth and obeyed. The forest here felt older and hungrier than the woods near the Fox camps. The canopy was denser, the undergrowth thicker, the air heavy with the coppery scent of recent violence. At last the trees opened into a wide, trampled clearing. Broken branches, deep gouges in the earth, and dark spatters of blood marked the place where the morning's battle had raged. But of the combatants themselves there was no sign.
Jason spent long minutes circling the area, searching every depression and thicket. Nothing.
"Looks like something already dragged the loser off for a meal," he said at last, disappointment heavy in his voice.
*I doubt it. Keep looking. The trail may simply have left the immediate clearing before the beast died.*
Jason widened the search. Near the far edge of the churned ground he found what he had missed earlier—a long, uneven drag mark leading away through the brush, dark with blood and broken vegetation. Whatever had made it was heavy and already failing.
He followed.
The trail wound downhill toward the sound of running water. When the trees finally thinned, Jason found himself at the edge of a broad, shallow river. Half in the water and half on the muddy bank lay a massive lizard-like creature. One curved horn rose from its brow. Its wings—thin, membrane-like, and clearly meant for gliding rather than true flight—were shattered and folded at unnatural angles. Deep wounds scored its flanks and neck. It still breathed, but each breath was a wet, labored rattle. The beast was dying.
*This is the one,* the bracelet said, a rare note of satisfaction in its tone. *Low-grade dragon bloodline. Weak, but still far more valuable than ordinary beast blood for your purposes.*
Jason's earlier triumph drained away. "It's still alive."
*Barely. It no longer has the strength to stand, let alone fight. Kill it now and you claim both the blood and the core.*
Jason's hand tightened on the hilt of the short sword at his belt. He had never killed anything larger than a rabbit. The creature's golden eye, dull with pain, still tracked his movement.
"I… don't know if I should."
*Kid, that beast already has one foot in the grave. Hesitate much longer and something else will finish it—and take what you need.*
Jason drew a long, steadying breath, unsheathed the blade, and began walking forward. The lizard's eye widened. It tried to heave itself up, claws scraping uselessly at the mud, then collapsed again with a low, broken roar. The sound decided him. He closed the remaining distance in three quick strides and drove the sword down through the softer flesh at the base of the neck, angling for the spine.
The beast's body jerked once. A final, shuddering breath left it. Then it was still.
*Careful,* the bracelet warned at once. *Do not let the blood touch your bare skin. Dragon-line blood is caustic to the unrefined.*
Jason set the sword aside, pulled out the small clay jar that had once held the last of his mother's healing salve, and emptied the remaining green paste onto a broad leaf. Working quickly but carefully, he filled the jar to the brim with the thick, dark-crimson blood that welled from the neck wound. The metal lid sealed with a soft click.
"Is this enough?"
*More than enough for your current level.*
A short, breathless chuckle escaped him. "Then all that's left is the refining."
*Not yet. Something will smell this blood soon. Take the core and move.*
Under the bracelet's precise instructions Jason placed the tip of his sword against the creature's chest, pushed in only a finger's depth, then levered upward. A clear, crystalline stone the size of a small plum slid free along the blade and dropped into the mud. He wiped it clean on a handful of grass, wrapped it in cloth, and tucked both jar and core securely into his belt pouch.
*Now run. Back the way we came. No sightseeing.*
Jason needed no further urging. He turned and began retracing the path at a fast, ground-eating lope, the bracelet once more feeding him small corrections to avoid lingering predators. The return journey felt shorter. The boundary between beast territory and Fox land came into view through the trees—an invisible line he could almost feel, marked by the faint, constant pressure of the protective formation the Fox family maintained.
That was when the real trouble began.
*Kid. Increase your speed.*
"Why? I'm almost—"
*Because you are being hunted.*
Jason glanced back over his shoulder. The trees behind him looked empty. "There's nothing—"
*Look harder.*
He looked again. This time he saw it: a low, powerful shape bursting from the undergrowth perhaps eighty paces back, four-legged, mottled fur, eyes locked on him with pure predatory focus. Whatever it was, it was fresh and fast and had clearly caught the scent of dragon-line blood.
Jason's blood went cold. He put his head down and sprinted.
The boundary was close—so close—but the beast was closing the distance with terrifying speed. Branches whipped at his face and arms. Roots tried to trip him. He could hear the heavy, rhythmic impact of the creature's paws now, growing louder with every stride.
*Faster,* the bracelet snapped. *The formation will stop it, but only if you cross first.*
Jason's lungs burned. His legs, still not fully recovered from days of punishing kicks, screamed in protest. He risked one more glance back. The beast was less than twenty paces behind and gathering itself for a final leap.
*Almost there—*
He gritted his teeth, summoned every remaining scrap of strength, and drove himself forward even harder, the safety of the Fox territory only a handful of heartbeats away.