Five

Castor helped me sit up and brought his flask to my lips as shadow lapped his shoulder. Tension gathered, as if the darkness would pounce. I heard the chest rumble before my adjusting eyes caught bared fangs bigger than my thumbs.

Water spilled down my chin. I coughed.

“No,” Castor barked. “The boy is mine.”

The panther’s ears flattened at the sound of it. Castor stared at me, unblinking. He took the flask and rested a calming hand on my shoulder as he’d done so many times in the past. When I tensed, he shook his head slowly and gestured toward the fire.

My muscles were stiff as I rose to follow. We hunkered by the fire and I noticed the cuts across my chest and left side. Seeing them made me realize how much they stung.

The panther followed too, and crouched by Castor’s other side. I couldn’t tell how many others there were. At least three across the fire, their shoulders flexed. And I glimpsed motion beyond them in the trees.

I still saw the world through a colored lens. Even with the heat sharp against my face I wondered if I still dreamed. A panther on the other side of the fire leaned forward smoothly, twisting its head, yellow eyes never wavering from mine. Something potent and ancient—far older than Geo—kept me from looking away.

“They smell the city on you,” Castor barked. “So it follows that you’re a threat to their Growth.”

Flames coruscated in the panther’s eyes.

“And when you were struggling, they thought you were trying to kill me. I told them you were in a trance. You came closer to killing yourself, backing into that butterfly swarm.”

Castor fell silent. I forced myself from the panther’s sneer, watched Castor’s neck pouch bulge and deflate. “What are you talking about?” I said.

Nostrils flaring, he only glanced at me. He leaned forward and poked a stick in the fire, launching an explosion of sparks.