Both boys nodded without noticeable reluctance. The mountain air was a lot colder now that the sun had gone. Even with the modest fire burning three meters from the fuselage, the boys wrapped thermal blankets around their shoulders.

The moroxes began calling to one another. Dellian was convinced there were now at least six of them out there in the darkness beyond the firelight. Yirella’s right. What do they eat?

Dellian flung some more logs on the fire. Sparks skittered up into the night, swirling like orange galaxies. Boulders glimmered yellow, transforming to dusty moons in a frozen orbit around them. The moroxes were closer now, the cries lower, more intense. Something moved in the gloom between boulders, a deeper shadow eclipsing empty air.

“Come back in,” Yirella said from the fuselage split. “Pile some more logs on, and get safe.”

Dellian was inclined to agree. Looking at Falar and Orellt, he couldn’t see any argument. He bent over to pick up a couple of logs.

“Look out,” Falar yelled.

The morox came hurtling out of the dark, skipping onto a boulder and leaping. The beast had pale gray skin like wet leather, mottled with green webs. The forelegs had huge paws, with seven knife-like talons fully extended. Its head was slim and streamlined, almost aquatic somehow, with wide white eyes and fangs longer than a human hand.

Some deep xenophobic instinct told Dellian this rapacious creature had never been born on Earth, adding to his fright. It was the fear of the other. He dropped to one knee, swiveling as he did so to bring the axe around in a powerful arc. On either side of him, Falar and Orellt were assuming a lunge pose, their knife poles stabbing forward. The three of them acted in unison as they’d done so many times in battle games, coordinating as fluidly as any munc cohort.

Too late, the morox tried to turn from the trio of deadly blades. Dellian’s axe caught its flank, ripping open a huge cut. Dark purple blood squirted out. The morox howled and landed badly, legs scrabbling for purchase.

“Fall back,” Dellian shouted. “Falar in first.” He could see another two black spectral shapes circling the fire’s radiance, biding their time.

“I’m in,” Falar called. Then: “Danger left!”

Dellian and Orellt faced the new morox as it sprinted toward them. This time Orellt dropped to his knees. Dellian instinctively knew what he was doing—thrusting the knife blade ahead and low, forcing the morox to leap. Orellt began his swipe. Sure enough, the creature saw the blade solid and unmoving at its own head height, and sprang—

The axe hit it directly on the side of its short neck, penetrating so deep Dellian could barely wrench it out. Only the inertia of the creature’s falling corpse helped free it.