Page 132 of Starside

The immortal looks over at Raker too, then seems to pale. His smile dims. “Especially when you’re guarded by that,” he says simply.

I almost keel over at the thought of Raker being my guardian. Someone who has practically promised a death at his hands.

I want to laugh, but I don’t. Better the immortal thinks Raker would protect me.

And … I suppose he does. When he wants to.

“What else is valuable about the beast?” I ask, looking it over.

“Well, its saliva has healing properties. You must feel them.”

I look down at myself. I feel sticky. Disgusting. But I turn over my hands. The scratches … they’re gone.

That’s when I remember the half dozen daggers of wood sticking out of my back. I gasp, pulling one out and clenching at the pain … before feeling the wound heal completely.

The saliva will dry. Will its magic dry with it? I won’t take the chance.

Jaw tight, I take all of them out, sealing my lips to keep from screaming. Until they are just blood-tipped shards of wood at my feet.

When I glance back up, the hunter is still cutting off spines. “You’re lucky, you know. Few immortals have survived a creature like that. Let alone humans.”

Lucky he was there with his massive arrow, I think.

I dig into my pockets, until I find an empty vial. I approach the bear, the vestige of fear still prickling across my skin, but I grit my teeth against it and climb up the beast’s paw. Fist my hands in its fur and ascend until I’m high enough to reach its mouth. I wince at those fangs. How close they were to cutting me to pieces. Slowly, I begin to collect the saliva still pooled below its tongue.

“Who gave you those?” the hunter asks.

“A healer,” I say simply, not wanting to get the immortal in trouble. Perhaps it’s frowned upon to share with humans. It’s not like she ever told me her name, anyway, and perhaps for this very reason.

But he just hums in approval. “Those are useful. They don’t shatter. Good quality.”

When I’m done, I climb down and study the rest of the creature. I have little use for poison. Even the fangs in my pockets from those wolves seem almost useless now. They would have done absolutely nothing to slow this beast.

But … maybe not completely useless.

I turn toward the hunter.

“How did you get here?” I ask. That crossbow is enormous. He wouldn’t have just walked all this way with it on his back … And he must have a way to transport all the spines he’s collecting …

His eyes narrow. He lets out a high whistle.

Then another shadow casts across the forest. My bones clench, remembering how the bear towered over me. I take a step back.

And a dragon lands with a forest-trembling force right between us. It stretches out its wings, dappled light filtering through the sheer, forest-green webbing, before the claws tipping them sink into the dirt.

“You have a dragon,” I breathe.

He nods proudly. “This is Invira.”

Invira just huffs. The steam she emits is cold, like what I imagine a winter breeze is like.

I can’t stop the questions spilling out of me. Especially when this immortal seems so content to answer them. “Did you claim her at the Beast Tree?”

He shakes his head. “I freed her from a snare when I was very young.” He frowns, looking at a jagged scar on her foot. I notice she’s missing a talon. “Not all hunters follow the same code,” he says sadly.

“And the code is?”

“Don’t kill anything that doesn’t first try to kill you.”