“I don’t know,” I say finally. “But we’re not sticking around to find out.”
We push on. The terrain grows rougher: exposed rock faces, ravines cutting through forest, elevation changes that leave Ember breathing hard. She doesn’t slow. Doesn’t ask for breaks. Just keeps moving with that quiet determination that reminds me uncomfortably of myself at her age.
Before the clan wars ground it into me.
The light starts failing around sixteen hundred hours. We’ve made maybe six miles from the crash site. Not bad, given theterrain and her ankle. But we need shelter before full dark. The temperature’s already dropping.
I find an overhang. Limestone shelf tucked beneath a granite face. Defensible. Concealed. Cold as hell, but that’s what dragon-heat is for.
“Here.” I drop my pack. “We wait for total darkness, then shift and fly.”
Ember’s face brightens, the first real hope I’ve seen since Mara fell. “How far?”
“Fifteen miles northeast to the helicopter landing site. We push hard, we can be there in under an hour.”
“Then what?”
“With any luck, Radu will still be waiting for us. We’ll have comms to reach out to Aurora and the Craven clan.” I check my watch. Ninety minutes until the light fails completely. “Get some rest. You’ll need strength for the flight.”
She settles against the overhang wall, but her eyes stay on me. Measuring.
“You’ve done this before,” she says quietly. “The survival thing.”
“Different battles. Same principles.”
“Clan wars?”
“Among other conflicts.” I don’t elaborate. The territorial disputes I survived between clans aren’t stories for quiet mountain evenings. They’re scars I keep buried where they can’t bleed into the present.
Mostly.
Ember’s quiet for a long moment. Then: “Thank you. For getting us out.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We’re not clear.”
“But we’re alive.” Her voice softens. “That’s something.”
It is. Though I’m not surealivemeans the same thing assafe. Not when the forest feels like it’s watching and my dragon stirs uneasily in my chest, sensing something I can’t pin down.
I settle into guard position and wait for darkness.
Ember sinks back, her lashes fluttering shut. It takes a while, but I finally hear her breathing leveling out.
Good. She needs rest after what she’s just been through.
I close my eyes, sinking into that place where my mind stills while my body stays on full alert.
When the last light finally bleeds from the sky, I stand.
“Time.” My voice cuts through the growing cold as I walk into the clearing. Ember jolts awake, her expression hazy as she struggles to find her bearings.
“Where…? I… Mom?” Her voice is husky with sleep.
“Hardly,” I say. “It’s time to go. Strip down.”
Ember’s eyes widen, suddenly awake. “What?”
“Dragons don’t shift fully clothed.” I’m already unbuckling my vest. “Everything comes off, or you shred it mid-transformation.”
