“No, we’re not,” he agreed with Trenton. “One of us will do it.”
“I didn’t expect anything else.” Shea gave Fallon a half smile. “I could never make that throw. That’s why Wilhelm will do it.”
Wilhelm lifted an eyebrow. “I will?”
“Wait a minute. Why not me?” Trenton asked in outrage.
Shea ignored him to answer Wilhelm’s question. “I’m not skilled enough with a spear. Same for Witt, and the doubter over there is still recovering from cracked ribs and internal bleeding. And if we let Fallon do it, I’m pretty sure Caden would murder us all once he found out about it. That leaves you.”
“Hey!” Trenton protested.
Fallon looked like he wanted to argue, but he must have seen her point. Of the five of them, Wilhelm was the one with the best marksmanship. Beyond all of the other reasons, that was the one that counted the most and Fallon knew it.
Wilhelm stared off into the mist with a considering expression before looking sideways at Shea, his face serious and intent. “We’ll only get one chance at this.”
“Guess you’d better make the shot count, then,” she told him.
“Incoming,” Witt murmured.
They snapped to attention.
“From the left,” Trenton confirmed.
They moved as one, diving out of the way as the bashe brushed past. Shea glimpsed feathers arranged in a crest around its head and vestigial limbs tucked close to its serpentine body. Then, it was gone, leaving them standing once more alone in the mist.
“Let’s move,” Fallon shouted as soon as it was past. In a cluster, they ran for the horses.
Panicked and afraid, the horses were loath to let anyone close, even their human riders.
Wilhelm made soothing sounds with his voice as he crept closer. It would have been safer and easier if they split up and let Wilhelm approach alone, but Shea was too afraid of one of them getting taken by the mist.
He held his hand out, even as Shea thrummed with impatience. They had little time. The bashe could strike at any moment. So far, it seemed to be playing with them, allowing them to get out of the way of each attack. Perhaps it was entertained by their feeble attempts at survival, or maybe it found their struggle humorous. Either way, she didn’t want to wait until it got bored.
The horse dipped its head as Wilhelm cupped its nose and slid his hand along its cheek. With the other, he reached for the spear and slid it free.
Shea took a knife, moving carefully but surely as she cut the leads, so the horses would have a fighting chance in the event they weren’t able to kill the giant serpent.
Trenton grabbed a spear and his bow while Witt watched the mist all around them.
“What are the little mice up to?” A serpentine head crowned with a mane of feathers rose in front of them, its eyes intelligent as its tongue flicked out with each word.
Shea stepped back, her eyes wide as its neck extended until the head towered over them. Somehow its size still managed to surprise her, despite being surrounded by its body.
“Ha,” Shea said, slapping her horse’s rear and sending it running. Trenton and Witt did the same with theirs.
Together they backed away from the head looming in front of them, while Wilhelm lagged behind, so it appeared he was the tip of their little train. He held his spear loosely next to him, not quite hiding it but not brandishing it like a threat either.
The bashe watched the horses flee with interest before its head swung back toward them.
“How fast can you run, Shea Halloran?” the bashe asked, its alien face still managing to express coy amusement.
Shea paused, her feet stumbling to a halt. It knew her name.
Fallon yanked hard on the rope, dragging her out of the way as the bashe’s head snapped forward, its mouth wide open, the serpent fangs fully extended.
It missed them by bare inches, close enough that Shea could’ve reached out and touched the scales as it slid by.
There was a scream of rage and a violent jerk from the bashe as it sank back into the mist.
