Raxka stood twenty meters away. Relaxed and Confident. Her silver-grey fur rippled in the desert wind. The tracker in Owen's chest pulsed in rhythm with her presence.
"You're early..." Owen said. His voice was steady despite the fear crawling up his spine.
"Am I?" Raxka tilted her head. "Or did I simply decide to start my hunt when I wanted?" She gestured to the empty oasis. "I've been watching you. Waiting for the perfect moment."
Gorvax's scythe materialized. "The hunt doesn't officially start until day twenty-five."
"True." Raxka's grin widened. "But who's going to complain? The Tribunal? They'll love the drama. Early hunt means higher ratings." She cracked her knuckles. "Besides, I have special permission. The whelp is marked. He's my prey specifically."
Owen's gauntlets hummed. His CE gathered. 6,000 baseline. Against her probable 1,500,000.
The gap was insurmountable.
But he'd faced insurmountable before.
"Gorvax..." Owen said quietly. "Run."
"No."
