His focus never wavered from the pale figure below. To him the scene was already tidy: an injured child at the bottom of a hole, frightened blue eyes, a prize within easy reach. What he did not see was that he had crossed into another creature's dominion.
Voices argued above in ragged fragments—
"Don't hurt her,"
"Just grab her,"
"Careful with the rope,"
"She's worth more alive."
The rogue sneered at the advice as he found another root with his boot and lowered himself farther. He smelled of wet fur, old blood, and arrogance; when he heard Takoda's ears flatten he grinned, pleased. "Scared?" he called down, more a taunt than a question.
Her gaze did not answer. She was watching the dark beyond him. For weeks, for months perhaps, she had been taught the small mercies of stillness; now stillness was survival.
A flash of lightning washed the pit in sudden silver. The rogue blinked and, in that heartbeat of glare and afterglow, the serpent moved.
