The tracker didn't back down. On the contrary—he faced them head-on.
His breath whistled through his curved fangs, and his carapace gleamed under the mist like a slick, armored shell. He wasn't injured enough to flee, but he was hurt enough to be dangerous.
Maggie charged at him—without her axe—but her body spoke for her. And it was no less lethal than blades.
Her fists clenched, her muscles coiled. She dodged the first tail strike, dropped low, rolled to the side, then struck the underside of the monster's jaw with the flat of her palm.
The impact cracked like a blow against stone.
Her punch wasn't strong enough to break it. But strong enough to throw it off balance.
That's when Élisa jumped back into the fight. Despite the pain in her shoulder, she leapt onto the creature's back and drove one of her daggers into a joint. A metallic scream ripped through the monster's throat, raspy and distorted.
It reared back instantly.
And this time, Dylan lunged forward.
