Page 42 of Thexan

She adjusted her stance, lowering her center of gravity slightly as she looked down the ridge.

“Same as before.”

“Yes.”

“They’ve already checked the obvious route, haven’t they?”

“Yes.”

The terrain ahead narrowed into broken stone and uneven footing, forcing any approach into a staggered line. This was where we held.

“They will not advance as a unit through this section,” I said. “One will move forward. The others will adjust for support.”

“So, we can’t let them support,” she said.

“No.”

I moved forward and took position along the edge of the ridge where the drop limited visibility from below but allowed me to track movement along the approach. Brynn settled just behind and to the side—out of direct engagement, but not out of reach.

Aligned.

We did not speak again.

The first hunter came into view without sound, his movement controlled, his attention fixed forward as he assessed the narrowing path ahead. There was no hesitation or uncertainty in him. He moved the way I had been trained to move—efficient, deliberate, already calculating the terrain for advantage.

He had not yet seen us.

I waited.

Timing determined the outcome.

The hunter stepped forward, shifting his weight onto unstable ground as he adjusted for elevation.

That was the opening.

I moved.

The descent was controlled, not a leap but a precise transfer of momentum, using the angle of the ridge to close distance before his focus could fully reorient. The blade was already aligned as I entered his range, the strike executed before his body could complete the transition from assessment to response.

He reacted.

Too late.

The energy edge passed cleanly through the structural point beneath his upper torso, disrupting internal function before he could generate a coordinated defense. His body locked for a fraction of a second, the signal interrupted before it could translate into movement.

I caught him before he struck the ground.

The impact was absorbed and lowered without sound.

He was already non-functional.

I disengaged the blade and held him in place for a moment longer, confirming the absence of response. Then I shifted my attention to what remained useful.

His weapon was secured along his side.

I removed it quickly, disengaging the locking mechanism with practiced precision. The structure was familiar enough to operate without adjustment, the weight balanced, the interface responsive.

Functional.