Too much electricity was risky, so she did heat. Someone like the Wolf had combat instincts too good to let her get a blow in, but all she needed was a touch. She got her hand to their shoulder, and watched without pain as the tips of her fingers glowed red, then blinding white.

Faol didn’t make a sound, but their jaw tightened. They took a step back, just one.

Orfeus took a step back too, bracing herself, then turned and sprinted away.

Cowardice was one word for it, but survival was the main one. Someone from the Order had trained their whole life to hunt. Orfeus had done a little bit of everything, but the driving force of her life was music and performance. She was smart enough to know to run.

Smart, and fast, head forward and arms pumping in a sprint that would turn into a jog if she got far enough away.

Before she’d gotten more than a street away, a bike dropped down in front of her.

A hoverbike. She’d seldom seen a single-person transport device, wasteful as they were. Solar foil was visible, tucked in at the sides and between the coiling metal guts of the thing as though to declare that the Wild could be accused of no hypocrisy.

Faol leapt off the bike. In their tough armour they too looked like a carefully designed machine. They didn’t say anything, but looked disgusted.

Running: worth trying, but hadn’t worked. Orfeus braced herself. Trying to hit back would be idiotic, but she wasn’t going to lie down in the dirt again.

She took a deep breath and swung her fist at Faol’s face. Faol stepped to the side, one easy and economical step. Orfeus stumbled past them, and felt claws biting into her back through her cloak.

She loosened the fastening of her cloak and wriggled out of it, diving forward, rolling, coming up in a run. She turned, lifting her hands up by her chin as though to try another hit.

Faol didn’t move. “Make this easy on yourself,” they said. Yes, they were certainly disgusted by her.

“So you don’t know who I am after all,” Orfeus called back. Only her training let her voice carry clearly when her breath was so ragged. Her muscles sang with adrenaline.

The Wolf swiped their claws through the air, a frustrated gesture, certainly nowhere near close enough to hit. She still tensed at that wicked gleam. “Stop fighting.”

Orfeus bunched her shoulders, curling her hands in readiness. “I’m never going to just give up,” she said. “Not for an instant longer than I have to. Never.”

The Wolf shrugged and prowled forward. They were a dramatic series of dark and light, pale skin and dark armour, ragged dark hair like a fringe of shadow. “It’ll happen all the same. You’re my prey.”

“Oh, just stop with all that bullshit!”

And Faol stopped playing.