The satisfaction of his victory was short-lived. From the dark, winding tunnels high in the cavern walls, answering shrieks echoed—sharp, piercing, and filled with fury. One after another, massive, feathered forms emerged, their eyes glowing with malevolent intelligence.
A Murder of Cave Rocs. Four of them. They circled high above, their shadows crisscrossing over Adam and Alice. The one he had killed was not a lone hunter, it was a scout, a sentry for its flock.
"You have got to be kidding me," Adam thought, a familiar, weary exasperation cutting through his triumph. "My luck is a physical law of the universe, and it is always, without fail, terrible."
Alice immediately Void Stepped to his side, her back pressing against his coils. Her mental voice was not fearful, but fiercely determined. "It does not matter. They hurt you once. They will not get a second chance. We will break their entire flock."
