The night had thinned into a pale gray, the stars smeared by sand shifting in the desert wind. Dane’s hands gripped the rope tied to the sled, muscles moving in rhythm with each step. Behind him, Zeph lay wrapped in fresh bandages. Dane had changed them the last time they stopped. Lyra slept beside him, shivering, her pale skin glinting faintly in the starlight.

  Dane paused and tossed the only blanket the merchant had over them, and muttered under his breath as he leaned back into the pull. The wood of the sled creaked under their combined weight.

  “Don’t die on me.”

  A faint groan came from beneath the blanket. Zeph stirred, stretching his wings despite the dull ache running through them. His talons dug into the sand as he tried to sit up. Amber eyes blinked open, scanning the horizon with that sharp, hawk-born precision.

  “Dane… why is she on top of me?” His voice was hoarse, in the kind of confusion that comes after seven days unconscious.

  Dane shrugged slightly. “She was cold.”

  Zeph blinked. “So your solution was…?”

  “I only have one sled and one blanket, Zeph. Killed two birds with one stone.”

  Zeph groaned, half-laugh, half-pain. “I almost died, and I wake up to this?”

  “I’m not into interspecies stuff, man,” he muttered, incredulous.

  Dane didn’t even look back. “I thought Sara was a fox.”

  Zeph froze. “That’s… different. She’s still a beastman!”

  Lyra stirred at his outburst, blinking as realization hit. She scrambled off him with a soft curse.

  Dane stopped pulling long enough to uncap his canteen. After a long drink, he let out a refreshed sigh and said, “Whatever you say.”

  Zeph shook his head, ruffling his damaged wings. “You’re unbelievable.”

  "Well, I am glad that you're up... I have no idea where the Beast Tide is."

  “Please tell me you didn’t just walk in a straight line,” he said.

  “Straight’s better than lost,” Dane replied.

  Zeph squinted at him. “Who says that?”

  Dane didn't reply.

  Zeph sighed, rubbing at his feathers, and then began quizzing Dane. “Any rock spires? Dead trees? A dune shaped like a serpent’s skull? Do you smell salt on the wind or hear birds?”

  "I may have seen some of those things."

  Lyra let out a weak laugh. “Great. My heroes.”

  Zeph crouched and scooped a handful of sand, letting it fall through his talons. The grains tumbled and scattered like golden rain. Tilting his head, he whispered, “We’re too far south. If we keep this up, we’ll miss them entirely.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Dane adjusted the sled’s course without argument, going in the direction that Zeph pointed out.

  The Eagle Beastman was still gaining his bearings and riding in the sled. But at least they had a direction to travel. Lyra tried to help Dane pull the sled, but he waved her off since she wasn't actually helping, and he had to slow down four times already to not drag her along.

  Lyra walked beside Dane, kicking at sand drifts, trying to keep pace. “I… uh… don’t mean to nag, but… how do you keep going like this? Doesn’t it ever hurt?”

  Dane didn’t answer at first, his opal eyes scanning the dunes. “Of course it does. But pain is like a song, after you know it by heart. It becomes background noise.”

  "That’s… sad. You’ve had a hard life."

  “Why are we talking about me? I can tell you got something clawing at you.” Dane cut her off, sharp but calm.

  She exhaled. “I keep thinking about Zeph. If you hadn’t been protecting me… he might not have been stabbed.”

  Zeph flexed a talon against the sled’s side. “Don’t. If I’d been stronger, I wouldn’t have been stabbed. He saved you, but that doesn’t mean he failed me. Stop dwelling on what could’ve been.”

  Lyra nodded, shoulders sagging. “I know… I just…”

  “Breathe,” Zeph interrupted, tilting his head. “Look around. Keep moving. You can’t fix the past, only what’s in front of you.”

  The desert stretched silently for miles, sand drifting like waves. Dane never wavered; Lyra followed, letting herself absorb the quiet reassurance. Zeph leaned back slightly on the sled.

  A tremor ran through the sand.

  "What's that?" Lyra said, stopping to brace herself.

  "Dinner, if we’re lucky," Dane replied.

  Dane dropped the sled rope and walked to the small bulge of sand that marked where it was coming up. A small snout with fleshy whiskers barely peeked through the mound of sand. Dane spoke in the Beast Tongue. "We don't want to fight."

  "No fight. I kill." The mole responded.

  "Listen, we are just trying to get back to our pack. Please let us through."

  The monster sat like it was processing what he just said. The Earth began to rumble as it fully emerged from the hole. "This is my territory. If you give me the little one, you and the Eagle shall pass."

  Dane slowly drew the gifted dagger and lunged for the mole. It dodged to the left quicker than he expected.

  Lyra called on her water magic, sending jets at the shrew to trip it, her control improving with each attempt. Zeph coached her softly, tilting his head, “Think. Don’t panic. Keep it off him. You’re doing fine.”

  Dane twisted and struck again, sand spraying, before the creature finally collapsed in a resounding thud with a dagger sticking out of its head.

  Lyra sank to her knees, exhausted. “Thank you… I feel like I am getting better at that,” she whispered.

  Zeph ruffled his wings. “Not bad.You really saved my tail feathers. But, don’t get cocky.”

  Dane sheathed his blade. “Zeph, what’s the best part of the beast?”

  After grabbing a few choice mole-rat steaks, they resumed the march. Dane pulling, Lyra walking beside him, Zeph riding the sled, wings stretching. Conversation returned slowly.

  “I didn’t know monsters could talk,” Lyra said, head down. “The Legion teaches they’re mindless, just waiting for release.”

  “That’s a popular opinion among your kind,” Zeph said, raising the feathers above his eyes. “Most attack on sight. But some C-rank beasts… some start showing real intelligence.”

  “Can you teach me their language? I don’t feel right attacking them on sight anymore.”

  “No,” Zeph replied. “Beast tongue can’t be taught. To grasp it… You must become a monster yourself.”

  “Is that what was happening to Dane's eyes or his body when he attacked the cult leader? I saw horns flash for a moment…”

  “That’s enough talk,” Dane interrupted. “I am not Human but the horns were something different. Once we reach the Beast Tide, you’ll learn more.”

  Hours passed, the twin suns climbing, painting dunes in harsh gold. Zeph’s sharp eyes froze on the horizon. “There,” he said softly. “Do you see it?”

  Dane’s gaze narrowed. On a distant plateau, tents swarmed the landscape, beasts tethered to posts, and the glimmer of water troughs caught the light. Dust swirled with movement; flags, more like kitchen rags than banners, snapped in the wind. It was the Beast Tide. Still half a day away, but Dane wouldn’t stop until they reached it.

  Lyra’s eyes widened. “That’s… them?”

  Zeph nodded, wings twitching. “Yeah. You can almost smell the kebabs from here.”

  Dane adjusted the sled, muscles tensing. The HUD flickered at the corner of his vision: [3 Days Remaining].