The residential sections gave way to service tunnels. Narrower passages that most warriors avoided, used primarily by workers and maintenance crews. She was being smart about this, avoiding the main thoroughfares where she'd be noticed.
But she couldn't hide from me.
Her scent grew stronger. Recent. She'd passed through here within the last few minutes. I increased my pace, my tail coiling and uncoiling with each stride.
What was she thinking? The surface of Volcaryth was deadly, even for Drakarn. Heat that could kill in hours. Predators that hunted anything that moved. The vast distances between settlements, the lack of water, the volcanic activity that could erupt without warning.
For a human? Suicide.
The tunnels sloped upward. I was getting close to the outer edge of the city, where the mountain opened to the surface. We had several exits, heavily guarded points where warriors could launch for aerial patrols or trading parties could depart for other settlements.
But there were also smaller openings. Lesser used. Known primarily to scouts and those who preferred to come and go without notice.
I'd used them myself more times than I could count.
Her scent led me to one of those hidden exits. A crack in the mountain's face, wide enough for a Drakarn to slip through,opening onto a narrow ledge that overlooked the crimson desert below.
She stood silhouetted against the opening. The twin suns had set, but the heat from the day still radiated from the rocks. She wore traveling leathers, carried a pack across her shoulders, had weapons strapped to her thighs and waist.
My chest constricted.
She was really doing this.
I stepped out of the shadows. "Going somewhere?"
She spun, hand dropping to the knife at her belt. Recognition flashed across her face, followed by irritation. Not fear. She should be afraid. I was twice her size, blocking her only exit, and she was planning something monumentally stupid.
I saw no fear as she lifted her chin. "I left a note."
A note.
As if that made this acceptable. As if scribbling a few words absolved her of the insanity she was attempting.
Fury ignited in my chest, white-hot and devastating. Three weeks of watching humans die in my imagination. Three weeks of tracking ghosts through Ignarath. Three weeks of failure. And nowshestood here, ready to throw herself into the same danger, as if her life meant nothing.
"Do you not understand how dangerous it is?" The words came out harsher than I intended, edged with the fear I couldn't quite suppress. "You will die out there, and no one will find your bones."
Her expression shifted. Something sharp and wounded crossed her face before hardening into defiance.
"Just like no one will find the bones of Larissa and the others?"
The words hit hard. True in ways that made my scales itch with shame.
"That's different," I said, even though it wasn't.
"How?" She took a step toward me. "How is it different? Because the Council voted? Because it's politically inconvenient? Because you decided their lives aren't worth the risk?"
"We had no leads. No intelligence. Sending more warriors into Ignarath territory without information would have been suicide."
She glared. "So you gave up."
"We made a tactical decision based on available resources and strategic priorities."
"You gave up," she repeated, each word sharp as a blade. "You stood in that Council chamber while they voted to abandon them. Don't dress it up in practical language. You quit."
My claws flexed. The urge to defend myself, to explain the complexities she didn't understand, warred with the knowledge that she was right. We had given up. I had given up.
"And you," she continued, her voice rising, "you stood there silently while Pyroth threatened me. While they dismissed everything I said. You didn't say a word."
