The hologram audience roared, waving glowing banners and one suspiciously large foam claw.
Mara squared her shoulders, heart pounding.
Another challenge. Another death trap.
And this time, something out there was hungry.
Chapter 28
Vaelor
The canyon narrowed ahead of them, its walls rising like jagged blue teeth. Below, scattered across the frozen basin, a herd of wild ice beasts roamed—massive, horned creatures with hides like frosted stone and breath that steamed in thick plumes. One wrong sound, one wrong scent, and the entire herd could turn on them.
“That is not just one ice predator. That’s a whole herd of them! It’s not like we can cover ourselves with their poop to hide our scent. Can we?”
He was confused by her suggestion.
“We will need to proceed with caution but be as quick as possible. The longer we are down there, the more chances we will cross one of those beasts.”
He tried to find the right path to take to keep them far enough away from the creatures. Vaelor had to admit, the massive white-furred beast with crystalline claws were majestic but deadly. Vaelor was a hunter and a warrior, but he would not be able to defeat more than a handful at time. Mara was more at risk. One hit from one of those creatures could kill her.
Vaelor crouched behind a ridge of black ice, studying the wind currents. “We cannot cross openly. Their senses are too sharp.”
Mara crouched beside him, cheeks flushed from the cold. “My dad and I ran into something like this once,” she whispered. “Back home. In Great Utah.”
Vaelor glanced at her. “Great Utah?”
“Yeah. We were hiking and came across a herd of wild buffalo." She smiled faintly at the memory. “Huge, stubborn, territorial. Dad said the trick was to move like you belong there.”
Vaelor raised a brow. “Move like a buffalo?"
“Not literally,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But you match their rhythm. Their pace. Don’t make sudden movements. Don’t stare at them directly. And—” she pointed to the drifting snow “—you stay downwind. Always.”
Vaelor considered this. Her world was different, but instincts were universal. Herd animals behaved similarly across species. And Mara’s father had clearly known what he was doing.
“It is good advice,” Vaelor said. “Better than your earlier suggestion.”
She blinked. “What suggestion?”
“You asked if we should cover ourselves in excrement.”
Mara’s face went crimson. “I was joking!”
“I am relieved,” Vaelor murmured. “I was prepared to refuse.”
She swatted his arm, but her smile eased the tension in his chest.
He turned his attention back to the herd. “Your father’s method will work here. Ice beasts rely on scent and movement. If we stay downwind, keep our heads lowered, and match their pace, they may ignore us.”
Mara nodded. “Then let’s do it.”
Vaelor led the way, stepping onto the canyon floor with deliberate slowness. He adjusted his stride—heavy, rhythmic, almost plodding. Mara followed, mimicking him. The ice beasts grazed, snorted, shifted their massive bodies, but none turned toward them.
A young beast lifted its head, sniffing the air. Vaelor froze. Mara froze beside him.
The wind shifted—just slightly.
Vaelor felt Mara tense. He whispered, barely audible, “Do not look at it. Keep your gaze low.”
