Her prey gave a sudden jerk and shuddered, as if the blow were no more than a fly landing on his coat. Then as the pain blasted through him, he fled in a staggering run down the game trail toward the river. She grinned harshly; at least he was moving in the right direction! And she followed him, keeping to the trees. She wouldn't drop down to his level until she was sure he was dead or nearly so.

He ran more and more clumsily and fell once, his front legs folding under him. She thought he was done then, but he staggered up and moved on, blowing blood from his nose and mouth as he huffed out his pain. The second time he went down, he stayed down. Knife drawn, she moved closer and then went down to him. His large brown eyes regarded her malevolently. 'I'll end it,' she told him. It took all her strength to drive her knife into the hollow behind the angle of his jaw. The blade punched through thick hide and muscle, but when she jerked it out, she was rewarded with leaping gouts of blood. The elk closed his eyes; each burst of blood was less than the one before, and when it slowed to a trickle, she knew he was gone. She had a moment of regret that she pushed aside. Death fed life. He was meat now, and all hers.

Skymaw would be pleased with her. But only if she got the meat back to the dragon; there was no bringing Skymaw to this kill. The thick forest and undergrowth were impenetrable for a creature the size of a dragon. The only way to get the meat back to her would be for Thymara to pack it out. She sized up the animal. She could probably drag a front leg and shoulder back on her own. Then she'd find Tats and they'd come back to cut up the rest and drag it back. Tats could take a share for Fente, and they'd have meat to share at the camp-fire with the other keepers. She felt a surge of pride at that thought. She doubted that anyone else would have fared as well at the hunt as she had.

The marsh elk's hide was thicker than she had bargained on. Her knife seemed small in comparison to the task and it dulled fast. Twice she had to stop and sharpen it, and each time she thought of the daylight passing. It was already dim back here in the rainforest. If she didn't get back and reclaim the rest of the meat before dark, it would be hopeless trying to find it at night. And by morning, scavengers would have reduced it to bones. Ants and buzzing insects were already trooping to the feast.

When she had finally sliced all round the tough hide and cut the meat down to the bone, she had to use every bit of strength she had to wrestle her blade into the animal's shoulder socket to get the front leg free of the carcass. It finally came loose with a suddenness that made her sit down flat on the ground, the leg half on top of her. She wiped her knife on her trouser leg and sheathed it and then wiped her hands. She pushed sweaty hair back from her scaled brow. The scales felt tighter and more complete; they were growing. In a few more months, she might not even sweat there any more. For a moment, she wondered what she looked like, and then pushed that concern aside. There was nothing she could do to change how she looked; best not to think about it.

She pushed the leg to one side and stood up, groaning at how much her back ached. She didn't look forward to the trudge back to the riverbank through the underbrush. She glanced again at her kill. 'One leg down, three to go,' she said wryly.

'And the head. Don't forget the head.' Greft's words warned her only a fraction of a second before he dropped down beside her, landing as lightly as a lizard. He looked at her kill and hissed in astonishment. When he lifted his eyes to her, they gleamed with admiration. 'You weren't bragging when you said you were a hunter. I congratulate you, Thymara! If anyone had asked me, I would have said this was an impossible task for a girl like you.'

'Thank you,' she replied uncertainly. Was he complimenting her or suggesting this was a fluke? A bit testily, she added, 'A bow doesn't know who pulls the string. Anyone who is strong enough and can shoot straight can bring down an animal.'

'True. Undoubtedly true, as the evidence lies right here before us. All I'm saying is that I never thought of it that way before.' He licked his narrow lips and his eyes gleamed blue as he smiled. His glance was approving, but it wandered over her in a way she found unsettling. His voice was both warm and wistful. 'Thymara, you have every right to be proud of this kill.' He gestured at his hip. Tail feathers protruded from the game bag he carried. 'I wish I could say I had fared as well as you had. But the day is winding to a close and two birds are all I have to show for it.'

'We have a few hours of light left,' Thymara replied. 'And I'd best use them or I'll lose the meat. I'll see you back at the camp, Greft.' She knelt and put a hasty wrap of line around the elk's leg just above the hoof, and then knotted a loop big enough to fit over her shoulder. All the while she felt him standing there, watching her silently. She thrust her arm through the loop of rope as she stood. 'See you back at camp,' she repeated.

But she hadn't gone two strides before he asked, 'You're just leaving all the rest of the meat?'

She didn't want to look back at him but she didn't want him to know that she felt slightly afraid of him. He was bigger than she was and heavily muscled. He had never threatened her but the weight of his attention made her uneasy. She found that she wasn't comfortable being alone with him. The worst of it was that beneath her fear there was a darker current of attraction to him. He was handsome in a Rain Wilds-touched way. The gleam of his eyes and how even dim light shifted over his scaled countenance made her want to look at him. But how he returned her look always spoke of forbidden things. His presence stirred her in a way that was dangerous for her. Best to get away from him.

She tried to let none of that show in her eyes or sound in her voice as she said casually, 'Tats and I will be coming back for it.'

Greft straightened slightly and glanced quickly about the surrounding forest. 'Tats is hunting with you? Where is he?'

'Tats is probably still back at the river.' She shouldn't have answered his question, she thought, for it suddenly made her feel more alone. 'When I tell him I've got meat, he'll come and help me with it.'

Greft smiled, relaxing, but his expression only made her more tense. 'Why bother? I can help you with it now. I don't mind helping you.'

'I need to talk to Thymara's dragon.'

Alise snapped her head around, startled and annoyed at the interruption. It was so hard to get Skymaw talking. Things had been going so well, with Skymaw telling a story of someone in Kelsingra creating a fountain around a life-size sculpture of three dragons. To keep her talking, Alise had been standing beside her while the dragon rested her head on her front paws, carefully grooming the scales around her eyes. Fishing in the silty river splashed water into the dragon's eyes and ears, and when it dried, fine dust remained near her eyes. It was careful, ticklish work to remove it, one better done by human fingers than the dragon's own claws. 'I beg your pardon?'

The dragon keeper stared at her for a moment. Rapskal, she thought to herself. That was his name. She'd spoken to him twice before, and each time found the experience a bit unsettling. His eyes were a very light blue, and sometimes when he blinked, as he did now, the colour and the faint light that came from them seemed to be one and the same. He was very handsome, in a Rain Wilds way, and would be an extraordinary man. Right now, his face had that unfinished look of a youth venturing toward manhood. The jaw was shaping into firmness. His wild hair, she realized, made him look more boyish than he truly was.

Sedric spoke to the boy's silence. 'Why do you need to speak to Skymaw? She was in the midst of giving Alise some very important details about Kelsingra.'