Page 65 of Aryn

Draxyss. At least three, possibly more.

I follow the trail deeper into the forest, moving as silently as I can. The trees grow thicker here—ancient, gnarled things with branches weighted by snow. They hang low, occasionally brushing against my shoulders and sending small avalanches of powder cascading down. The air is clean and sharp, with the faintest underlying note of wet stone and river silt. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear the low murmur of the stream Thulga mentioned.

A sharp crack echoes behind me, louder than a settling branch.

I spin around, blade sliding free from its sheath. My tail flares out for balance, heart slamming against my ribs as I drop into a defensive stance.

Cato stands ten feet away between two thick tree trunks, his massive frame partially hidden by shadow. His jaw is clenched tight, eyes burning with clear frustration. Snow clings to his shoulders and hair from pushing through the low branches, and he’s breathing harder than the cold alone would account for, like he jogged to catch up.

For a long moment, neither of us speaks.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he finally snaps.

I slowly lower my blade, though I don’t sheath it. “Cato—”

“No. Don’t even start with the smooth talking.” He takes a heavy step forward, boots sinking deep into the powder. “You waited until everyone was busy, then came out here alone. Imagine my fucking surprise when I thought you were in bed, resting, and instead I caught you sneaking out the back. You’re not as stealthy as you think.”

“I wasn’t sneaking—”

“Yeah, you fucking were. You’re pulling this lone wolf bullshit while you’re injured.”

“I’m mostly healed,” I say evenly, “and I won’t sit around and do nothing.”

Cato lets out a harsh breath that clouds the air between us. “Mostly healed isn’t fully healed. And even if you were, you don’t just go stalking predators by yourself in unfamiliar woods.” He flings his hand at the tracks near my feet. “Look at the number of prints. I don’t have any clue what they are, but I know enough to recognize it’s more than one person should take on alone.”

“I wasn’t planning to attack yet,” I argue. “I was just going to scout the stream and see how bad the nest is.”

“Yeah, sure. Scout. Alone. With a single blade and no backup.” He takes another step closer, then lets out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You know, for someone so smart, you can be really godsdamn stupid sometimes.”

My ears pull back defensively as my tail flicks behind me. “I’m trying to help.”

“And if there’s a whole herd of whatever these things are?” Cato demands, now close enough that I can see the flush on his freckled cheeks. “What then? You were just going to take them on by yourself?”

I open my mouth, but he keeps going, frustration bleeding heavily into his words.

“You accuse me of being reckless, but when I thought there was a problem, I came to you. I didn’t run off alone. You don’t get to do that shit anymore. Not while I’m around.”

The raw edge in his voice makes something twist in my chest. I look away, staring at the webbed tracks in the snow instead of the disappointment on his face. “I didn’t think you’d care this much.”

“Yeah. That’s becoming a real fucking problem, isn’t it?” He waits until I meet his eyes again. “You might be alright with leaving people behind, but I’m not. That’s not who I am.”

The words sting more than they should, and their truth is hard to swallow. “I wasn’t leaving you—”

“Weren’t you?”

The air between us is so thick I can barely breathe through it, and Cato’s glare is unrelenting. I try to process his concern and blatant protectiveness, try to understand why he cares, but I don’t know what to do with any of it.

Eventually, he sighs. “What are we up against?”

I watch his face, but he only lifts a brow impatiently. “Draxyss,” I answer reluctantly as I gesture at the tracks. “They’re basically large reptiles.”

“Like the ones we saw in that abandoned village?”

“Not quite. These are a lot meaner.”

He crouches to examine the prints. “They don’t look big enough to take down those moose things on the farm.”

“Kravache,” I correct, fighting a grin despite the tension. “They aren’t big, but they’re smart and fast as hell. They work together.”