It was the most incredible thing Kyra had ever seen. This miraculous beast, a pure specimen of power, chewed through the steel rope and, in a fit of rage, shook his head and tore it to bits. He stood higher and higher, raising the net for all of them, and a moment later, Kyra found herself unrestrained.

Andor leapt forward in a single bound and sank his fangs into the chest of the closest soldier, a man whose eyes opened three times as wide at the sight of him. The man fell, instantly killed.

Andor then swung his head to the side and as another soldier charged him with a sword, he used his fangs to slice his chest in two.

Two more soldiers charged from behind and Andor leaned back and kicked them with his mighty hooves, his kick so powerful that he cracked all their ribs and caved in their chests, knocking them to the ground, unconscious.

Kyra spotted a soldier train his crossbow on Andor and she realized that, in a moment, he would be fatally wounded. She felt a rush of panic, realizing she would not be able to reach him in time.

“LEO!” she cried, knowing instinctively that Leo, closer, would know what to do.

Leo burst into action: he charged across the snow, leapt into the air and landed on all fours on the soldier’s chest, sinking his fangs into his throat as the man shrieked. He pinned him to the ground and the arrow went flying harmlessly up into the air, sparing Andor’s life.

Two more soldiers stepped forward, each raising their bows and aiming at Andor, and Kyra drew her staff, separated it, and stepped forward and threw each half. They flew through the air like spears, and each sharpened end lodged in one of the soldier’s chests. The men cried out as they fell to their backs, their arrows shooting up into the trees, hitting branches with a thwack and bringing down a clump of snow onto the forest floor.

Kyra heard a noise and felt something whizz by her head. She turned to see a spear fly by and just miss her, and saw two more soldiers charging, hardly twenty feet away. Each looked determined to kill her as they drew their swords.

Kyra, in battle mode, forced herself to focus: she reached back, drew her bow, placed an arrow and fired. She did not wait to see if it met its mark before she fired again.

Each shot landed in the chest of an attacker as they charged for her, felling them.

Kyra suddenly heard a noise behind her, wondering how many soldiers were out there, how many would emerge from these blackened woods. She turned, too late, to realize a soldier had snuck up behind her, his sword raised and about to slash her arm. She braced herself, the man too close to deflect the blow.