CHAPTER 87: AFTERMATH

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Fenna sprinted, broadhead arrow reversed as stabbing lance. Obsidian tip punched into shoulder muscle. It was shallow, but blood hissed where it flowed. She yanked free, pivoted clear.

The leopard planted hind claws, muscle bulging. Resin cracked. Spider-cord groaned.

Zephyr closed. Hatchet high, wrist braced. He met the molten eyes—wild now.

"Message received," he growled. "Here’s ours."

He swung the dagger. The steel wedge crushed into the soft notch beneath the jawline, where even Ember Veil thinned. Heat licked his knuckles raw, but he leaned, twisting the blade until cartilage split.

Star darted in, jaws snapping again—this time at the exposed Achilles above the snare knot. Tiny drake teeth cut tendons like twine. The rear leg collapsed.

Fenna planted foot on a resin slab, drove her arrow’s obsidian point into the opposite carotid in a fierce short-stroke. Char-sap drove deeper like pulverized glass.

The leopard’s eyes flared one last time with defiant coals, then dimmed to dull amber. It sagged, ember mane flickering out.

Silence detonated through the basin. Only the waterfall provided a heartbeat.

Aurora fluttered down in shaky circles and landed on Muse’s yoke strap, chest heaving. She tweeted a high, wobbling victory note. Muse, ears still quivering, answered with a deep, shaky moo—bell chiming once like fragile applause.

Fenna’s shoulders slumped. Bow slipped to the ground. She wiped ash from her cheek, She was breathing ragged.

Zephyr’s arms trembled from fatigue, adrenaline, heat burn and yet he smiled. "Great work. All of you."

Star hopped to his ankles, tail high, exhaling smoke swirls the size of candle wicks. Zephyr ruffled the drake’s head-spines. It was warm but unburning.

He knelt by the corpse. "Confirm Kill!"

Star pricked front claws into the leopard’s ribs—no twitch. Dead.

"Hold still," Zephyr told Fenna. She lowered an arm: sleeve charred, skin blistered. He unstoppered an aloe-vine salve, smeared cool gel over the burn. It hissed on contact.

"That’s payback for earlier med-kits," he teased weakly.

Fenna’s chuckle shook. "I’ll accept." Although, she can help herself with true fire but choose not to do it.

Together they dragged the still-hot carcass to a flat igneous slab by the pond. Fenna ladled cool water; steam billowed. Zephyr flipped the predator with grunt effort—muscle and sinew still twitching micro-sparks. He sawed through jaw to free two obsidian-coated canines. Then, careful of blister heat, he carved between scorched ribs until fingers met the core chamber.

In the cradle behind the sternum lay a beating ember heart—the Rank-D Fire Leopard Core. Orange light pulsed through its cracked-glass surface, each throb hotter than a forge nail. Zephyr wrapped it in double-thick emberfoil, then slid it into a charfruit-lined satchel to leach heat.

Star sat near Fenna, licking a minor scorch on his own wrist; Aurora toddled over and preened one soot-clogged feather.

Muse sagged to kneeling haunches, bell jangling a wearied sigh. She sniffed the dead cat with a triumphant flare of nostrils, then turned away as if to say it deserves it, for scaring her.

The basin stank of wet ash, seared resin, and kill-blood. Yet the trees remained oddly hushed, as if the forest itself acknowledged the end of a harsh examination.

Zephyr paced the ruined trap line, brow furrowing. Every tether had been burned, every pit nullified. "It reads them like a script. Or someone showed it how." He rubbed the foil satchel. A clue, perhaps, to whoever or whatever was teaching beasts. Beasts are becoming intelligent.

Fenna’s lips brushed against the curve of Zephyr’s shoulder—brief, gentle, and warm as ember-bloom. It wasn’t romance, not yet, but something older than that: gratitude pressed into skin, affection without the need for words.

Zephyr blinked, stunned, as the heat of the battle seemed to melt away beneath the far quieter warmth of touch.

Neither spoke. Then She says, "We won. But we need more battle experience."

"And colder tricks." Zephyr gestured at resin shards fused to basalt. "Fire killers."

Star answered with a subdued purrr. The young drake agreed. His stamina bar may have been full, but his small lungs wheezed from repeated Ember Lances. Aurora answered with a high Chirp that translated to food and sleep, please.

A beat passed before Fenna stood, eyes sharp again,"Camp needs restabilizing," she said, voice steady.

"Right," Zephyr murmured, gathering himself. The fatigue in his body throbbed again, but somehow it didn’t hurt quite as much anymore.

They got to work.

The fire pit was still partially intact, though scorched wider from the final heat blast. Zephyr shoved blackened basalt stones into place and re-banked the coals using one unburned log. Soon a flickering fire sprang to life—smaller, but bright.

Fenna knelt beside Muse, who had collapsed like a war-tired general beside the cart. "Big baby," she muttered fondly.

Muse mooed as if wounded in spirit more than flesh. She splayed her legs dramatically, resting her head on the cart’s broken axle.

"Don’t milk it," Fenna muttered, dabbing burnt-leaf salve onto a patch of scorched fur. The salve hissed and smoked, but Muse held still—aside from occasional theatrical flinches that earned chuckles from everyone nearby.

Aurora sat on her perch, wings fluttering every time Muse mooed. The phoenix chick chirped loudly—"Aurora!"—as if proclaiming the entire saga to the rising dawn.

Zephyr gave her a dry smile. "Is she narrating us now?"

"Only the best parts," Fenna replied.

Star, bruised but proud, curled up near the pond’s edge and began cleaning ashes on his foreleg. His scaled hide shimmered faint silver where his scales had saved him from the worst of the leopard’s heat.

Zephyr moved to the cart’s side bin, hands working without hurry. He scooped a palmful of coal ash, let it sift through his fingers as he thought.

He clanked metal cups onto a salvaged tray and prepared a small brew of char-fruit tea. The scent of scorched citrus filled the air. It felt smokey and sharp, like a drink served at the end of the world.

Fenna took hers in both hands and sipped slowly, her gaze never leaving the blackened form of the Fire Leopard. Its carcass now lay across the cooling rock slab, doused and inert. Even dead, it seemed to smolder with menace.