The lion circled her, its eyes glowing in the faint moonlight like twin mirrors, lips drawn back in a snarl that exposed long fangs. It was injured but not badly; blood streaked from a shallow gash on its shoulder where Dippy must have kicked it before she woke. Ahnna released the arrow, and it sank into the cat’s flank. But rather than fleeing into the darkness, it lunged at her with a vicious snarl.
Dippy screamed and broke free of his tether. He kicked out wildly and nearly hit the lion, but the creature sprang out of the way. It circled the camp, a ghostly shadow in the red glow of the dying fires. Ahnna scrambled to her feet, her heart a frantic drumbeat in her chest as she nocked another arrow.
Only for the ghostly shape to disappear into the darkness.
Dippy snorted, nostrils flaring with the scent of the predator that had almost certainly not given up.
Ahnna held her bow at the ready, hunting the darkness for a whiteshape. Listening for any sound that might give her a clue as to where the predator was.
Then in her periphery, a shadow moved.
She only barely threw herself to the side, the searing graze of its claws ripping through her coat, warm blood trickling down her shoulder. The pain was sharp, but she forced herself to ignore it. The beast stalked closer, a low, throaty growl rattling the cold night air, its eyes alight with hunger.
She let the arrow fly, striking it in the shoulder. The lion staggered, its snarl turning to a rasping, pained hiss, but still it advanced. It was gaunt, the desperation for food visible in each limping step. It needed this meal and was willing to die for it.
The lion was between her and her quiver, so Ahnna dropped her bow and pulled a knife. She swiped at the lion and it recoiled, but fast as lightning, it pounced.
Ahnna flung herself sideways, claws snagging in her clothes even as her knife sliced along the lion’s belly.
It screamed but though blood splattered the snow, the wound wasn’t deep enough to stop the attack. The creature was hungry, and if it didn’t kill her, it wouldn’t have the strength to take down something else.
This was a fight to the death.
The lion circled, muscles bunching, and Ahnna braced.
But then Dippy attacked. With a scream Ahnna had never heard him make, her horse reached out and clamped his teeth down on the lion’s back. He jerked the cat from side to side and then flung it across the camp.
Before the lion could rise, her horse was on it. Dippy slammed his hooves down, trampling until white fur turned red, bones were crushed, and gore soaked into the snow.
The lion let out one last wet gurgle, then went still.
Ahnna stood frozen, chest heaving. She had not known horses were capable of that sort of violence.
Dippy snorted at her, and Ahnna stumbled over to fling her arms around the gelding’s neck. “Thank you,” she breathed, pressing her face against his sweaty coat. “I will never let you go.”
Lighting the lantern, she examined Dippy to ensure he wasn’t injured, then swiftly rinsed the shallow cuts the lion’s claws had left on her arm. Her coat would need mending, but she could do that while she rode. The stink of blood would draw any number of predators, so they needed to get away from this place.
Ahnna loaded up her supplies and readied to set out. But as she mounted, a speck of light in the distance caught her eye.
It was so far off as to be little more than a pinprick, but it was undeniably a campfire.
“James,” she whispered, every instinct in her body telling her that it was him. Reflexively, she reached up to wipe her face, expecting her hand to come away bloody. It was clean, but from the darkness of her mind, Alexandra’s voice echoed:Such a disappointment. Such a failure. But don’t worry, Ahnna. At least I have the stomach for murder.
“We have to hurry, Dippy.” Ahnna dug in her heels, knowing that for all her horse’s speed, there were some things he could not outrun.
10
James
James.
He jerked upright, certain that he’d find Ahnna standing before him, but there were only the sleeping shapes of his men and the glow of the campfire.
“Sir?” Arthur stepped from the shadows, a loosely nocked bow in his hands. His full head of curls pushed out from beneath his woolen cap, his face red from the cold.
“What was that?” James asked.
“Screams,” Arthur answered, turning his back to the fire so that his eyes were once again on the shadows. “Sounded like a lion caught something farther up the valley.”
