But as he moved, the bunny instinct in his brain had something more to say about it.

What if the skalkits smelled him? Or heard? Or what if Eyanna couldn’t slip away? What if the skalkits went after her? Could Denton do what she had done, draw their attention? No. No freaking way. He didn’t have her speed or stealth; it’d be suicide.

He went on.

From the trees behind Eyanna he could see the way her arms were tied. They were red and swollen; the vines were tight. He tucked his spear under his arm to free his hands and slipped out into the clearing. He was a nervous wreck by the time he reached her. His hands were all goosey, and twice the edge of the knife slipped off the rubbery vines. He cut and cut and cut, his ears ringing with the pounding of his own blood. He couldn’t see the skalkits but he could hear them. They did not seem to be getting any closer. The freaking vines took forever.

And while he cut, Denton did not feel brave. He’d thought that he might, once he was in action, that some latent testosterone might kick in but, no. He was petrified and sweating and nauseous and not remotely manly. He hated this.

The vines broke. Eyanna was free.

Denton wanted to turn immediately and flee but he made himself edge around the tree to make sure she was okay. The skalkits came into view. One of the skalkits was yawning hugely, but one—the smart, evil one—was already looking at his next victim. He was stalking the boy with that intent expression. The Sapphian was tied to the tree, his head slack on his chest in either unconsciousness or resignation.

For a moment, Denton was mesmerized. Then he remembered that he was, like, in danger, and he turned to look at Eyanna and she was gone. He scanned for her, panicked… and saw her white-gold hair like a beacon. She was across the clearing, just inside the trees. She was standing there, watching him, and he thought she must have run when she’d found herself freed, and then had remembered to worry about him and had come back to make sure he got out.

Good old Eyanna. Wasn’t she sweet?

He motioned at her to go and started backing away toward the woods himself, quietly, quietly. And for a moment he thought they were actually going to make it. The skalkits were full and not paying attention and, anyway, the boy appeared to be next on the menu. They were going to survive this intact, and then all he had to figure out was how to get her…

Eyanna moved into the clearing. She was not leaving. She was heading for the boy.

Denton ran through about a million curses in his head. Of course it couldn’t have been that easy. Oh, no! He had way too much payback coming for that. Somewhere up there, someone was having a laugh riot.

He ran into the trees, still cursing. He ran for quite aways before he realized what he was doing. He was running away from the clearing. He was abandoning Eyanna.

He stopped, overcome with frustration. He stood there debating with himself. It was the old Denton and the new having it out. The old Denton was adamant, and he had a point. He had already risked a lot to free Eyanna. It was not his fault if she wanted to throw herself back into the frying pan. He was not responsible.

Crap.

He got glimpses of the clearing through the leaves as he snuck back, spear in one hand, knife in the other, and neither one feeling any less ridiculous. He saw the skalkit nuzzle the vine that held the unconscious boy’s arms, lips drawn back, teeth gnashing. He saw Eyanna creeping toward them from the side of the clearing, completely exposed.

Denton stopped at the edge of the woods, not knowing what to do or if he’d do anything at all. Everything seemed to be happening so slowly. The skalkit’s nuzzling loosened the boy and he fell, slumping forward. He was delicately caught and lifted in the skalkit’s open mouth. Eyanna, close to the skalkit now and still unseen by the monster, darted forward and grabbed one of the boy’s arms.

Man. She was a freaking lunatic.

The skalkit saw Eyanna then, all right. It roared lustfully with a full mouth. Eyanna pulled the boy’s arm. The skalkit moved its head back. In a minute the two of them were engaged in a full-out tug-of-war. The skalkit could have just closed its jaws and crushed the boy, but it apparently didn’t want to, because it held him just enough to keep Eyanna from taking him away.

The unusual sounds attracted the attention of the second skalkit, who looked up and let out a bellow that was so loud and so enraged that it made every hair on Denton’s head stand to attention. But Eyanna didn’t seem to hear. She was still playing push-me-pull-me with the boy, and now she was yelling and kicking at the skalkit’s front legs. She did not see the other skalkit coming. It blindsided her, snatching her right off the ground with a whip of its head.

The skalkit had her left arm and shoulder and upper chest in its mouth, and it was not being delicate. Her legs kicked and jerked. She pounded at the skalkit’s nose with her fists.

And that was it. Denton found himself plowing out of the trees. He was running across the clearing with his spear raised in one hand and from his mouth came a scream that was only slightly lower in decibel than the skalkit’s. He screamed from somewhere deep inside him and it sounded… by god, it sounded pissed.

For a moment, as he closed the distance between them, he was both in his body and observing himself, stupefied, from someplace high above. Then he reached Eyanna and the skalkit and the spear was in his hand so he thrust its as hard as he could into the beast’s side. The knife went in, deep. Denton was amazed. He had actually pierced the thing and hurt it. It let out a bellow of pain. He grabbed the spear and pulled. He was afraid the knife would be lost in the skalkit’s thick hide but it came out, still secured to the branch. The skalkit snarled and dropped Eyanna. It reared back, its front legs coming off the ground, and Denton saw the white flesh of its belly. He thrust the spear again, aiming for the heart.

The skalkit’s cry became deeper, more enraged, but it did not fall over or give up. No, it was still very much alive and more dangerous than ever. Gripped only by blind necessity now—kill or be killed—Denton pushed down on the handle of the spear, fishing around inside the skalkit, looking for the heart. It was hard. The skalkit thrashed. The handle of the spear cracked.

Then something struck him a massive blow from behind. He flew, like a pebble being tossed, and struck the ground. It almost knocked the breath out of him. He gasped and rolled over. Above him the second skalkit had discarded the boy and now fully, enthusiastically focused on ripping him to shreds. It waved its clawed feet at him, letting out a growling yelp of lust and greed and rage.

Denton lay there, looking up at the hideous, deadly thing. And he laughed.

Ho ho ho. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. He had no idea where it came from. It was not a feeling Denton Wyle had ever had before. But suddently he felt freaking great. He was not afraid. Even with that thing hovering over him, he was not afraid. For the first time in his life he felt free and powerful and so brilliantly, wonderfully pleased with himself.

He, Denton Wyle, was fighting two enormous skalkit. And he loved it.

“Denton!” Eyanna yelled.

He rolled out of the way just as the skalkit’s front legs came crashing down to crush him. He bounced to his feet, grabbing the knife from his belt.

Ten feet away, he could see Eyanna looking at him with triumph. She was holding on to the end of the spear. It was still embedded in the skalkit and she had managed to find the heart. Blood was spurting from the wound in huge, splattering bursts and the skalkit was dying, its eyes half-closed in agony, its jaws frothing blood.