“You won’t even let me defend myself—”

“I said—”

The Scorphice cried out again. It was nearly level with the ridge.

“Come on!” Anji yelled. “What use is money if you’re dead?”

The Hawk glanced at the ridge, then flipped her short sword hilt first and slapped it into Anji’s waiting palm. Its balance was incredible, the hilt just long enough for both of Anji’s still-manacled hands.

Instinct told Anji to shove the blade through the woman’s gut right there. But killing the Hawk would only serve to chain Anji to her person forever, and by the look of it, forever would only be until she was alone with the Scorphice. She pictured herself freezing and screaming while her insides were sucked out, or whatever these vile things did. No. Fighting alongside the Hawk was her only chance. She squeezed her stinging fingers against the hilt’s worn leather and stood at the Hawk’s side, sword bared as the sun dipped behind a distant mountain, its last warm rays glancing off the rocks around them.

The Scorphice took the ledge just as the light died. It reared, two pairs of legs ascending along with its gleaming claws, each the size of a pony, eyes black and glittering like obsidian. Anji gripped the sword’s hilt, bile building at the back of her throat. The cold was gone. Her aching limbs and freezing skin gave her no pause. The frigid, dry air welcomed her movements. The monster jumped.

It cleared ten feet of ground, then crashed in front of them, claws swiping. Anji dodged away from the left claw, running to the side where the disgusting confusion of clacking legs skittered over loose rocks, punching holes in the packed snow below. Anji swiped at one of the legs, the sword glancing off the rigid, glassy carapace. She had time for a silent curse before she was knocked to her back by a crushing weight in her gut. White flashed in her vision and she scrambled up, spitting snow and bits of rock. She tasted blood and spat that out too, a red trickle staining the snow.