Day thirteen since leaving Thornwell.

  The mountain had changed.

  Volcanic rock crunched underfoot—black and red and sharp, like the earth had been shattered and left to bleed. Steam hissed from cracks in the stone, warm against Kaelin's legs, smelling of sulfur and something deeper. Older.

  BECKETT: (from above) I don't like this place.

  "You've said that twelve times today."

  BECKETT: I'll say it twelve more. I don't like it. The rocks are wrong. The air is wrong. The heat is wrong.

  "The mountain's volcanic. Heat is normal."

  BECKETT: Normal for volcanoes. Not normal for crows. Crows like trees. Crows like fields. Crows like places that don't try to cook you from the ground up.

  Kaelin stepped over a vent, felt the heat through her boots. "You could wait at lower altitude."

  BECKETT: offended And miss you dying horribly? Absolutely not. Who would steal your buttons after you're dead?

  ---

  [INSIDE]

  MAMMON: The bird cares. In her own weird, feathery way.

  AZRAEL: She cares enough to stay despite discomfort. That's loyalty.

  IRIS: Beckett's threat assessments have been accurate throughout the journey. Her current discomfort may indicate genuine danger.

  MAMMON: Great. So the mountain's trying to kill us AND the bird is nervous. Perfect.

  The path rose steeply, switchbacking along a ridge of exposed stone. To the left, a drop of hundreds of meters. To the right, a wall of rock that radiated heat like a sleeping animal. Ahead—

  Kaelin stopped.

  BECKETT: (landing on a rock) What? What is it?

  "Lycos."

  BECKETT: The wolf? He's not here. He's back at—

  "I know. But I can feel him. Fainter than before. Like... like a thread stretched too thin."

  BECKETT: (tilting head) Can you talk to him? Send messages?

  "I'll try. I don't know if he gets them."

  [INSIDE]

  AZRAEL: The bond is weakening. Distance—almost two hundred kilometers now.

  MAMMON: Don't say that. Don't say weakening.

  AZRAEL: It's fact. The psychic link has limits. We're approaching them.

  IRIS: Estimated maximum range of Lycos-Kaelin bond: 150-200 kilometers based on previous decay rates. Current distance: approximately 180 kilometers. Bond strength: 23% of original.

  MAMMON: quiet He's still there. He's still waiting.

  IRIS: Confirmed. Lycos's life signs remain stable. He is alive. He is waiting.

  Kaelin pressed a hand to her chest, where the bond pulsed faint and warm. Pack-wait. Pack-strong. Pack—

  The thread frayed. Just for a moment. Just enough to feel.

  BECKETT: (soft) He's still there.

  "Yeah."

  BECKETT: Then let's keep moving. The faster we get to this stupid volcano fortress, the faster we can go back to him.

  Kaelin nodded. Turned. Took another step.

  And the sky erupted.

  The bird came from nowhere.

  One moment: empty sky, grey clouds, distant peak. The next: a shriek that split the air, a shadow that blocked the sun, and fire—actual fire—streaming down like a burning waterfall.

  Kaelin threw herself sideways. The flames caught the edge of her cloak, and she rolled, slammed against the rock wall, beat out the sparks with bare hands.

  BECKETT: (screeching) BIRD! BIG BIRD! FIRE BIRD! VERY BAD!

  "No shit!"

  Kaelin looked up.

  The bird was massive—wingspan twice her height, feathers the color of embers and blood and dying light. Its eyes burned yellow, and when it opened its beak, flame licked between its teeth.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  It circled. Calculated. Dove.

  [INSIDE]

  MAMMON: OKAY. OKAY. BIG FIRE BIRD. WE CAN HANDLE BIG FIRE BIRD.

  AZRAEL: It's using magic. Fire magic. We have knives.

  IRIS: Knives ineffective against elemental creature. Recommendation: use environment, flammable bricks, terrain.

  MAMMON: THE BRICKS. YES. WHERE ARE THE BRICKS?

  IRIS: Bracelet. Section C. Eight remaining.

  Kaelin's hand went to the bracelet—but the bird was faster. Another burst of flame, forcing her away from the wall, out onto open stone. The ridge. The drop.

  BECKETT: (diving at the bird) HEY! UGLY! OVER HERE!

  The bird ignored her. Beckett was too small, too fast—annoying but not threatening. Its focus was Kaelin. Only Kaelin.

  [INSIDE]

  IRIS: Pattern recognition: bird is herding us toward the cliff edge. Tactical intent: use environment to limit escape options.

  AZRAEL: It's intelligent. It's hunting.

  MAMMON: THEN WE FIGHT SMARTER.

  Kaelin stopped running.

  The bird, surprised, pulled up—hovering for a moment, wings beating, eyes burning.

  Kaelin reached into the bracelet. Not for bricks. For something else.

  Ghoran's voice, from months ago: "Sometimes the best weapon is the ground they're standing on."

  She pulled out a single, heavy rock—one of the ones she'd gathered for campfires, stored in the bracelet because 100 cubic meters meant you could carry anything. She threw it. Not at the bird—at the slope above it.

  The rock hit. Dislodged others. A small avalanche of stone and scree tumbled down—not enough to kill, but enough to force the bird to dodge, to lose position, to give Kaelin time.

  She ran. Toward the wall. Toward cover.

  BECKETT: (from above) BEHIND YOU!

  The bird recovered. Came fast. Fire streamed—

  Kaelin dove behind an outcropping. The flames washed over rock, leaving it blackened and cracked. Heat seared her back. Her cloak smoldered.

  BECKETT: (landing beside her) That thing is PERSISTENT.

  "No kidding."

  BECKETT: Ideas?

  Kaelin looked at the outcropping. At the steam rising from nearby vents. At the sky, where the bird circled, waiting.

  "One. But you won't like it."

  BECKETT: I already don't like any of this. Go ahead.

  [INSIDE]

  IRIS: Sulfur vents. Highly flammable. If we can lure the bird close enough, trigger an explosion—

  MAMMON: EXPLOSION. I LIKE EXPLOSION.

  AZRAEL: We'll be close too.

  IRIS: Calculated risk. Survival probability: 47%. Bird survival probability: 12%.

  MAMMON: Those are good odds.

  AZRAEL: For the bird, maybe.

  Kaelin explained quickly. Beckett listened, feathers ruffling.

  BECKETT: You want to use yourself as bait. To lure the fire bird into a sulfur explosion. That might also kill you.

  "Yes."

  BECKETT: long pause That's either very brave or very stupid. I haven't decided which.

  "Can you help?"

  BECKETT: (already rising) I can distract. Herd. Make it angry. Angry things are stupid things. Stupid things follow shiny objects. I'm very shiny.

  "Beckett—"

  BECKETT: (already in the air) DON'T DIE. I MEAN IT. I'LL PECK YOUR CORPSE IF YOU DIE!

  The bird saw Beckett first.

  Saw the small, darting crow, the flash of movement, the deliberate taunting. It ignored her—until she got close. Too close. Diving, pecking, then veering away, cawing insults that would have made a demon blush.

  BECKETT: (mid-dive) YOUR MOTHER WAS A LIZARD AND YOUR FATHER SMELLED OF BURNT FEATHERS!

  The bird screeched. Turned. Chased.

  Beckett fled—straight toward the sulfur vents, toward the ridge where Kaelin waited.

  Kaelin ran too. Not away—toward. Toward the largest vent, the one hissing white steam, the one IRIS had identified as most volatile.

  She pulled a brick from the bracelet. One of the flammable ones. Gizmo's gift, green and orange and waiting.

  The bird was close now. Too close. Beckett barely ahead of it, wings beating frantically.

  BECKETT: NOW? NOW? IS NOW GOOD?

  "NOW!"

  Kaelin threw the brick—not at the bird, but at the vent. It struck, bounced, landed in the hissing steam—

  For one breath, nothing.

  Then the world became fire.

  The explosion threw Kaelin backward. She hit rock, rolled, kept rolling—over the edge, toward the drop, fingers scrabbling for purchase—

  Caught. A crevice. Her hand wedged, held, screaming with the weight of her body.

  Above, the bird screamed too. A terrible sound, half animal, half something else. It rose from the vent wreathed in flame, wings beating desperately—and then it fell. Spiraling down, down, past Kaelin's position, into the void below.

  Silence.

  Then: a distant crash. Then: nothing.

  BECKETT: (from somewhere above) ...Did we win?

  Kaelin couldn't answer. She was hanging from one arm, 400 meters above certain death, and her hand was slipping.

  BECKETT: (appearing overhead) OH. THAT'S BAD. THAT'S VERY BAD. HOLD ON.

  "I'M TRYING."

  BECKETT: I'M A CROW. I CAN'T HELP. I CAN ONLY ENCOURAGE. HOLD ON HARDER.

  [INSIDE]

  MAMMON: PULL. PULL. PULL.

  AZRAEL: WE CAN'T—THE ANGLE—

  IRIS: Free arm. Reach for ledge. 23 centimeters to the left.

  Kaelin's free hand stretched. Fingers touched rock. Slipped. Touched again. Caught.

  She pulled. Muscles screamed. The crevice hand slipped—then held. She pulled again, found purchase with one foot, then the other.

  And then she was on a ledge. Not the trail—a ledge, narrow, but solid. Above her, the ridge where she'd been standing. Below her, nothing.

  BECKETT: (landing beside her, trembling) You're alive. You're alive. You're alive.

  "Yeah."

  BECKETT: I'm going to be sick. Crows can do that. Projectile vomiting. Very useful.

  "Please don't."

  BECKETT: Too late. Already not doing it. But I thought about it.

  Kaelin sat on the ledge, catching her breath. The burn on her back pulsed. Her hand was raw. Her whole body felt like one large bruise.

  But the bird was dead. The fight was over.

  She reached for Lycos. Just to feel him. Just to know he was there.

  Nothing.

  She reached again. Harder. Focused.

  Nothing.

  [INSIDE]

  IRIS: Psychic bond status: connection lost.

  MAMMON: What?

  IRIS: Lycos-Kaelin bond strength: 0%. No signal detected.

  MAMMON: No. No, that's—check again. Check HARDER.

  IRIS: Scanning at maximum sensitivity. No psychic resonance. The bond has been terminated.

  AZRAEL: quiet Terminated?

  IRIS: Distance exceeded maximum range. 180-200 kilometers. The bond could not sustain.

  MAMMON: silence

  AZRAEL: silence

  IRIS: after a long pause

  Lycos remains alive. His life signs were stable at last contact. But the connection... is gone.

  Outside, Kaelin made a sound.

  Not a word. Not a scream. Something between—a wounded animal noise, torn from somewhere deeper than voice.

  BECKETT: (immediately alert) What? What is it?

  "Lycos." Kaelin's voice cracked. "I can't—I can't feel him anymore."

  BECKETT: (soft) The bond?

  "Gone."

  BECKETT: pause

  He's still alive. You know that. He's still alive.

  "I know. But I can't—" Kaelin pressed her hand to her chest, where the warmth used to be. "It's empty. He's been there. Every day. Every moment. And now—"

  [INSIDE]

  MAMMON: very quiet He's alone. He's alone in Thornwell and we can't—we can't tell him we're okay.

  AZRAEL: He knows. He knew when the bond was there. He'll hold that.

  MAMMON: But we can't—what if he's scared? What if he thinks we're dead?

  IRIS: Lycos's last transmission before termination: emotional content. Love. Pride. Wait. He sent what he could.

  MAMMON: breaks

  He sent everything. He always sent everything.

  Beckett pressed against Kaelin's cheek. Small. Warm. Feathers soft.

  "I'm not Lycos," she said quietly. "But I'm here. I'm staying."

  Kaelin's hand came up, trembling, to touch Beckett's wing.

  "I know."

  BECKETT: (fierce) And when we go back—when we go back to Thornwell—he'll be there. And you'll feel him again. Bonds don't break. They just... stretch.

  One hundred and eighty kilometers east, in the inn at Thornwell, Lycos lifted his head.

  He'd been sleeping—dreaming of mountains, of fire, of pack in danger. And then—

  Nothing.

  He sat up. Ears forward. Nose testing the air. The bond had been there, faint but present, for weeks. A warm thread connecting him to pack. To Kaelin.

  Now: silence.

  GHORAN: (from the kitchen doorway) Lycos? What's wrong?

  Lycos didn't move. Didn't respond. He was reaching—reaching with everything he had, across the impossible distance.

  Pack? Pack? Where—

  Nothing.

  Pack-hurt? Pack-need? PACK—

  Silence.

  Ghoran approached slowly, the way you approach a wounded thing. He'd seen this before—in soldiers, after battles. The thousand-yard stare. The absence behind the eyes.

  "Lycos." Gentle. Careful. "Is it Kaelin? Is she—"

  Lycos looked at him.

  And Ghoran saw it: grief. Raw, animal grief. Not for death—he'd have known if she'd died, would have felt something worse—but for loss. For absence. For connection severed.

  "She's alive," Ghoran said firmly. "She's alive. You know that."

  Lycos's ears flicked. He knew. He knew.

  But she was gone. Not dead—gone. The thread had snapped, and he couldn't find the ends.

  Lycos stood. Walked to the window. Looked west, toward the mountains, toward where pack had gone.

  He couldn't feel her anymore. But he could remember. Could hold the last thing she'd sent: Pack-strong. Pack-live. Pack-return.

  He would wait. Wolves knew how to wait.

  He would wait forever if he had to.

  Pack-wait. Pack-here. Pack—

  —love.

  That night, Kaelin sat on the ridge where she'd almost died.

  The bird's body was somewhere below—she'd climb down tomorrow, harvest what could be harvested. Feathers. Claws. Maybe something else. But tonight, she just sat.

  The moon was rising. Full and silver, painting the mountain in light.

  BECKETT: (beside her) It's the same moon.

  "What?"

  BECKETT: The moon. It's the same one Lycos sees. Right now. Same moon. Different places. Same light.

  Kaelin looked up.

  Lycos. If you can hear this—if anything gets through—

  I'm alive. We're alive. We're coming back.

  Wait for us.

  Pack-wait. Pack-strong. Pack—

  —love.

  [INSIDE]

  MAMMON: very soft

  He knows. He has to know.

  AZRAEL: He knows.

  IRIS: The bond may restore when distance decreases. Probability: unknown. But hope: 100%.

  MAMMON: You're getting soft, machine.

  IRIS: pause

  I am... evolving.

  AZRAEL: We all are.

  The moon rose higher. The mountain glowed. And somewhere east, a wolf looked at the same light and waited.

  Pack didn't end.

  Pack just... stretched.