“First thing in the morning,” he told her. “Step’s down at Tyson Station recharging the powerpack for the airtruck.” Again, the faint smile. “Probably sleeping inside with the doors locked, his rifle on his lap, one eye open in case the Unreconciled try anything culinary.”

“I think he can set down here on the outcrop.” Kylee tossed the last of the tooth flower spines into the fire. Then she settled against Flute, back braced by the quetzal’s belly, and added, “But I wouldn’t linger.”

“How’d you find Flute?” Falise asked. “Last we saw, he took off, trying to draw as many mobbers as he could with him.”

“He found me,” Derek told her, reaching back into the first aid kit he carried and retrieving a bottle of alcohol. “After leaving Step with the airtruck, I plotted a straight line from Tyson to the wrecked A-7. Figured you’d be along that line somewhere. So did Flute. That’s where I ran into him. He wouldn’t even let me tend his wounds. Insisted we hurry back to the attack site.”

Derek’s smile accented the twinkle in his oversized yellow eyes. “Gotta love that quetzal. He’s so considerate. Didn’t want to leave your picked bones laying around where just anyone might trip over them in the dark. A stumble and fall like that? Someone could get a bloody nose.”

“What the hell’s happened to you? You never used to be such a—” The rest was a gut-wrenching scream as Derek poured the alcohol on her wounds.

“Pus in buckets!” she cried when she got her breath back and could clear the tears from her eyes.

“Sorry,” he told her with actual fondness. “Now, tell me. What the hell are you doing out here? You’re an urban creature. Even with Kylee and Flute, you’re lucky to be alive.”

“Back off, Dek,” Kylee called where she lay with her arms crossed on her stomach, head back against Flute’s belly, eyes closed. “Falise has guts, and she’s smart. If she hadn’t strangled that mobber when she did, the nasty little fucker would have called in the whole flock. She saved us all.”

“Flute saved us,” Falise countered, seeing the quetzal rotate one of his eyes in her direction. “Bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was tricky to see in the firelight, but she thought the quetzal turned white-pink.

Derek replaced his alcohol and zipped the first aid kit closed. Then he resettled himself beside her, taking a seat on the basalt, elbows braced on his knees as he gazed at the fire. “Guess you’re no longer soft meat. Little Sister, I’ve never been so proud of you.”

As a trio of invertebrates spiraled down into the fire to explode with pops and hisses, she chuckled. “I don’t know why.”