It’s a moment I wouldn’t have the words to fully capture, even if I had all the time in the world. And time is something we don’t have. The crowd grows ever more restless around us.

“Let’s do what we must,” says Sethran.

“Yes, sir,” we reply together.

The lioness waits on the far right of the arena, sides heaving as foam and saliva drip from her jaws. One of the soldiers guarding the arena’s edge reaches down with a pole with a flame burning on the end of it. He shoves the fire into the lioness’s hide, and she roars in pain. The sound slices into my chest.

As the lioness starts to charge, Rowan and Sethran run to the right together, coming up on her blind spot, where blood seeps from the wound on her nose, but the animal aims at me. I count down the seconds, waiting for the precise moment to dodge …

Swinging my axe to the side, I let the momentum carry me out of the animal’s path just as she stops short, pivoting to face Rowan and Sethran. In a flash, Ox appears on the opposite side and sinks an arrow behind the lioness’s right foreleg. The animal collapses with a thunderous sound. She kicks out feebly, blood trickling from the wound. Rowan wordlessly tosses one of her knives to Sethran, who catches it by the handle. In a swift, smooth motion, he kneels beside the dying beast and takes the killing blow at her throat.

We’ve won, but it doesn’t feel like it. Rowan drifts toward the lioness, kneeling beside Sethran. She cradles the animal’s enormous, proud head in her arms. As Rowan presses her face into the animal’s fur, our commander puts his hand on her shoulder. Above us, the crowd’s mood has turned like a tide going out. They’ve never seen anything like this. They’re curious, shouting to one another and trying to understand.

I take a place on Rowan’s other side, while Ox bows his head. My chest tightens at the sound of Ro’s crying. When I look to Sethran for answers, I find a shine in his eyes, too.

We did our best. It just wasn’t enough.

“Stand,” our commander says quietly.

The four of us get up together. Taking a step back, Sethran drives his sword into the ground, and I follow suit to drop my axe. Then he raises his gaze as the clouds above us shift, covering the arena in patchy light. We are Leonodai, not humans. We are different, and we’ll make sure they remember us.

Rowan’s hand searches for mine, and I take it.

The crowd’s din fades from my ears. I look up and realize it’s not my imagination. The humans’ eyes are on us, quieted by confusion and unexpectedness. Some boo at the stillness.

Seconds pass like seasons.