As tension from the fight faded away, pain from Kyra’s wounds came rushing back. Demon Riders surrounded Pashla, completely blocking the clanswoman from view. Kyra watched them, swaying side to side as her balance left her, wondering if the Makvani had forgotten her in the excitement. From Leyus’s pronouncement, she gathered that she was safe, but beyond that, she was lost. Another clanswoman took Kyra’s arm and she stifled a scream.

“Come,” said the clanswoman. “I will take you back.”

“But Pashla—”

“She will see you when she’s ready.”

Kyra was too exhausted to resist. The clanswoman escorted her back, and Kyra spent the rest of the day drifting in and out of sleep. The forest was quiet during the afternoon, but as it grew dark, Kyra couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Occasionally, between layers of cricket chirps and cicada calls, she thought she heard footsteps. When she closed her eyes, she saw snapping teeth and flying fur.

Halfway through the night, Kyra awoke to a racket she couldn’t ignore. Something was crashing through the underbrush. She scrambled unsteadily to her feet, gasping at a jolt of pain through her middle as a doe lurched into view, falling to its knees a stone’s throw from Kyra’s shelter. Before Kyra could react, a demon cat burst through the trees, knocking the deer over with a massive paw and closing its jaws around its throat. The doe kicked at the air and fell lifeless.

Kyra edged out of her shelter, shocked by the brutal kill, yet drawn to the raw display of strength. The demon cat paid her no heed as it tore into the deer’s flank, ripping away chunks of flesh. There were more crashing sounds, both from the ground and the trees above her, as other demon cats arrived. The other cats watched from a distance, amber eyes reflecting the moonlight, tails swishing in anticipation. Finally, the first cat raised its head, shook itself, and loped away. One by one, the others took their turn, each tearing off a chunk of meat or limb. As in the Challenge, Kyra was once again struck by the strange coexistence of brutality and intelligence. The cats followed some sequence that Kyra could not understand. Once or twice, a cat approached the kill only to be chased away with a warning growl. It was frightening. Horrifying. Yet she found herself moving closer.

Another growl stopped her—not the short growl to warn others away from the kill, but a deep-throated snarl that froze Kyra in her tracks. A light-colored cat with brown stripes across its legs turned from the deer and advanced on Kyra. A few other demon cats jumped between the two of them, only to move away when the striped cat bared its teeth. Kyra stumbled back, mind spinning. Hadn’t Leyus ruled that she was to be spared? But the cat came closer, its eyes narrowed in rage.