Bai Yue did not stop screaming for the first hour.
Not the entire time. She couldn't. Her voice gave out somewhere between the clouds and the first mountain peak, reduced to a raw, ragged whisper that still tried to form the same words over and over:
"Give her back. Give her back. Give her back."
Han Shān held her. His arms were iron around her waist, the only thing keeping her from launching herself off Cāng Jì's back and into the endless sky after the ancient dragon who had stolen her daughter.
His chest was pressed against her back, and she could feel his heart hammering, fast, terrified, nothing like the steady rhythm of the stoic Snow Leopard Alpha she knew.
"She's alive," he murmured against her hair. Over and over. "She's alive. He caught her. She's alive."
"She's GONE, Han Shān! She's gone and he's not—he's not GIVING HER BACK!"
"I know. I know." His arms tightened. "But she's alive. We'll get her back. We will."
