Ciara's arm snapped forward — and the egg went sailing in a wild, wobbling arc that could generously be described as a terrible throw. The trio didn't wait to see what happened. They bolted toward the alternate exit the second it left her hands.
Dem's eyes widened.
Really? That's the throw?
The world slowed.
Rat blood surged hot through his veins, pupils brightening until the cavern lit up in crisp detail. The Tatzelwurm lunged with predatory force, its entire upper body coiling and striking toward the airborne egg.
Dem launched himself.
He drove a foot into the beast right where lioness shoulders met serpent body, using the momentum to vault higher. His hand closed around the egg a heartbeat before the Tatzelwurm's jaws snapped shut.
Then the beast's strike hit empty air — and the shockwave of power blasted Dem forward like an arrow loosed from a war bow.
He flipped, twisted, and landed lightly on both feet, already sprinting. His form was a lean blur, the egg tucked safely in one arm, silver dagger in the other — Rave's Cold Steel enchantment hissing against the warm air.
Up the tunnel he ran — feet knowing every groove and loose stone — until daylight slammed into his eyes and he burst out of the den.
Ahead, Dern anchored the front line of three spears, braced for impact.
"Here he comes!" Tori shouted from the ridge. Her first arrow was already in flight as her fingers reached for the next.
The Cold Steel broadhead hit perfectly — sinking nearly to the fletching into flesh above the hardened knot near the end of the creature's tail. Ice spiderwebbed instantly across the thick mass.
Dem shoved the egg into his storage ring and slipped between Dern and the Huntmaster to his right, vanishing behind the spear wall.
The Tatzelwurm struck an instant later.
The crash of metal and bone echoed through the valley as the three front spears caught the brunt of the blow. Their boots carved trenches into the rocky soil as they fought to hold their ground.
Dern angled his spear up and jabbed the creature's sensitive snout. The point barely nicked it — but the beast's shrieking hiss proved the pain was real.
The flank spears closed in, six more stabbing deep into scales and muscle.
From above, Sark's first arrow punched into the creature's furred shoulder.
"WATCH OUT!"
The Tatzelwurm's tail surged upward — then smashed down at the spearmen on its left side.
Two tribals dove aside, rolling behind outcroppings. The center hunter had nowhere to go. He threw himself backward, spear braced like a shield.
The spear shaft cracked like thunder.
The Huntmaster was hurled ten feet, his weapon splintered in two. The hammer of the Tatzelwurm's tail slammed into the earth and exploded — shards of frozen bone and ice spiraling outward in a deadly spray.
The creature's scream was deafening.
A piercing yowl ripped through the valley, a sonic blast so intense spears dropped from hands and warriors fell to their knees, clutching their ears. Pain lanced through skulls like hot needles.
Dem winced, teeth gritted, blood already running from his ears.
He took a step toward the fallen archers—
Then stopped.
The Tatzelwurm turned toward him.
Whatever sanity it had left — whatever mother-instinct had been holding it back — burned out of its eyes like a candle guttering in the dark.
It recognized the thief of its egg.
And it chose its target.
Dem.
Shadows rippled across Dem's crouched form as he summoned the armor. A shadow blade solidified in his left hand; Rave's Cold Steel dagger gleamed like a shard of winter in his right.
The Tatzelwurm reared to its full height, a towering wall of muscle and fury—then crashed downward.
Dem moved like poured water, flowing around the impact. The ground shook where he'd stood a heartbeat before. As the beast struck, he drove his shadow blade deep into the thick muscle of its upper shoulder.
The mangled tail whipped toward him, the broken knot now a sword of splintered bone.
Dem didn't dodge.
He dropped low, sliding beneath the counterstrike. Both daggers carved up into the soft underbelly—shadow blade blackening flesh, Cold Steel freezing it solid in the same instant. The beast howled, body convulsing.
Dem stayed on it.
As the tail withdrew, he leapt onto it, boots striking the slick scales. He sprinted up the serpent body, blocking a sweeping talon with the Cold Steel dagger while stepping inside the reach of the other. His shadow blade flashed three times in a blur—each strike spraying blood in arcs across stone and sand.
The Tatzelwurm snapped its massive jaws closed where he'd been an instant earlier. Dem was everywhere and nowhere—slipping around the beast like a shadow chased by the sun.
A sudden opening appeared.
Dern saw it.
The Huntmaster drove his spear deep into the beast's neck with a roar, burying the blade to the haft.
"Retreat!" Sark shouted from the ridgeline.
Dem and the spearmen pulled back, giving the archers clear sightlines.
Arrows rained down.
The Tatzelwurm sagged, its massive frame shuddering. A long, rattling exhale vibrated through the valley—a sound full of disbelief, fury, and fading instinct.
Then the creature collapsed.
Blood spread across the rocks in a thick, slick sheet. Its final breath escaped in a whispering rattle, eyes clearing for a single heartbeat before the last glimmer of life slipped away.
Darkness claimed it.
Sark whooped, lifting his bow high as the other tribals followed suit, their cheers echoing off the valley walls. Laughter replaced the tight, battle-strained silence — a release of nerves and relief. The hunters had escaped with only ringing ears and one badly bruised flank-spearman. It could have gone far, far worse.
Sark grinned broadly, pale eyes studying Dem with almost grandfatherly amusement.
"Swiftwind… got room on your sentry force for an old man?"
Dem rubbed blood from the tips of his ears, unsure he'd heard correctly. "I was thinking about recruiting a sub-chief scout. You know someone like that?"
Sark nodded solemnly. "Indeed. I've got a few more good years left in me. Stepping down as Huntmaster didn't put me in the grave."
"You've got the job," Dem said simply, then stepped toward the fallen beast. The Huntmasters had already stretched the carcass to full length for examination.
"Bigger than we thought," Dern muttered as he began working on the massive fangs. Others were already setting knives to snakeskin and fur.
"I have an egg from its nest," Dem announced. "The trio from Thaigmaal tried to steal it. Were caught red-handed."
"Idiots," Sark snorted, glancing toward the alternate exit. "No sign of them? They just handed it over?"
"Took a little convincing," Dem admitted dryly.
Sark chuckled. "If you don't want it, we'll pay a fair price."
"I'll keep it," Dem said.
Tori approached and handed back the black oak quiver — half the arrows were gone. "Going to check the den for anything else."
"Watch out for the male," Dem said without blinking.
Tori froze mid-step, eyes widening… then groaned. "Dammit. Don't say things like that with a straight face."
"Sorry," Dem said, not sounding sorry at all.
He drifted closer to the Huntmasters, watching with fascination as the Tatzelwurm was harvested: snakeskin peeled clean, fur separated, teeth and claws collected, sinew pulled free, meat carved into heavy slabs.
"What are the sinews for?" Dem asked.
"Bowstrings," Sark replied.
Hours later, the hunters sat around two fires, enjoying a hearty meal and rehashing every moment of the hunt. Dem sat with the other seconds, relaxed for once.
Tori slung an arm around his shoulders. "I'm glad I didn't argue with you about flushing that thing out. I'd have been eaten."
Dem grinned and pulled a dark bottle from his storage ring, uncorking it.
"Hey… what do you have there?" Tori leaned in as he took a long drink. "Is that highberry?"
"Sure," Dem said innocently, passing it to her.
Tori grabbed it — and immediately sucked in a gasp as fire ripped down her throat. She coughed, covering her mouth. "Oh… gods…"
Dem held a finger to his lips and nodded toward the Huntmasters' fire.
"How's the highberry?"
Tori cleared her throat twice, then defiantly took another drink before handing it back.
"Surprisingly good."