I didn't know how to actually do anything in this fight.

  The thing could fly.

  It shifted directions rapidly, jerking through the air in short, violent bursts, never committing, never staying in one place long enough for me to get a clean sense of where it was going next. Every time I thought I had its line, it twisted, wings snapping as it cut sideways through the clearing. It felt less like a creature hunting and more like a thrown weapon that kept changing its mind.

  Winnie was the only one actually capable of engaging it head-on. She moved without hesitation, planting herself between the thing and the rest of us, Log already swinging as if this were the most natural situation in the world.

  Clarice had finally managed to string her bow. That was good. I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye, the familiar posture settling into place as she tested the tension and brought it up. Once she was fully in the fight, we could start doing real damage. And by we, I meant the two of them.

  Meka was fumbling at her coat, fingers working their way inside as she pulled Bunny free from the inner pocket. The leafy creature peeked out, ears twitching. It looked at the flying shark. It looked back up at Meka. Then it slid straight back into her coat and vanished from sight.

  Nope.

  I could hear the muttered exchange between the two of them, Meka whispering under her breath while Bunny clearly disagreed with the entire premise of being present. I could not spare the attention to focus on it. Under different circumstances, when no one was about to die, I would have laughed.

  I needed my bag.

  My backpack was across the clearing, and I was not. I had spent the last few seconds backpedaling, dodging, reacting to the shark’s feints instead of choosing where I wanted to be. My staff was in that bag. Everything useful I owned was in that bag.

  My feet were still useless.

  I started running.

  The creature turned toward me immediately, snapping around in the air as if it had been waiting for me to make that choice. Its shadow slid over the ground, keeping pace with me far too easily.

  I pushed harder than I ever had at tin rank. My copper core answered.

  I felt it bloom inside me, a sudden fullness that flooded my muscles and joints. My stride lengthened. My breathing steadied. The ground rushed past faster than it should have.

  Barely, I stayed ahead of it.

  I almost smiled.

  Something in me slid into place.

  Understanding arrived without ceremony. My body figured it out before my mind.

  As I ran, I stomped and pushed off the ground at the same time, forcing my weight down and forward in one motion. Heat surged up through my feet. The earth behind me caught, igniting in a jagged line of fire that tore across the clearing in my wake.

  “Hotfoot,” I muttered to myself, and then I laughed.

  The sound came out wild and a little unhinged.

  The ground roared behind me. A pleasant heat washed up my back. The shark recoiled mid-charge, wings beating hard as it jerked away from the sudden wall of fire licking at its underside.

  I needed momentum. When I slowed, the heat thinned. When I ran, it stayed with me.

  “Runt,” Winnie shouted, grinning even as she swung Log again, “you’re running so fast the ground’s catching on fire. That’s awesome.”

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  “Winnie,” Clarice yelled, already lining up her next shot, “stop being an idiot. We are still in the middle of a fight.”

  “Oh. Right.” Winnie surged back in, boots tearing up the dirt as she met the shark head-on.

  Clarice loosed a flurry of arrows. Wind curled around them, her ability bending their path in sharp, impossible arcs. The arrows slammed into the shark’s side, punching through hide and scale. They did not sink deep, but they stuck, drawing an angry, screeching response.

  The shark screamed when Meka started muttering her incantation.

  The sound was wrong. Not a roar. It was a piercing, banshee-like shriek that tore straight through the clearing and into my skull.

  I stumbled. My foot caught. I went down hard, skidding face-first into my backpack and slamming into the chicken cage beside it.

  Clucking erupted in a panicked burst.

  At least they were alive.

  The scream ripped Meka’s spell apart mid-cast. She gasped, hands shaking as mana backlash slammed into her. She folded in on herself, breath coming in sharp, painful pulls.

  Clarice dropped to one knee, bow clutched tight, eyes squeezed shut as she fought through the ringing in her ears.

  Winnie kept swinging.

  Log smashed into the shark’s face. Teeth went flying, white fragments scattering across the dirt. The enchantment carried the blow through, driving the strike deep.

  Then the creature struck her mid-swing.

  The impact threw her off balance. Momentum carried her forward, but her feet never caught up. She hit the ground hard, rolling once before coming to a stop, dizzy and disoriented.

  Even Master Fatty Chunk winced, pressing a finger into one ear as the echo of the scream faded.

  For a moment, it was just me, the shark, the backpack, and the cage.

  My backpack.

  My staff.

  I rolled over the pack, flipped backward, and plunged my hands inside, grabbing whatever I could reach. The bag fought me, weight shifting unpredictably as I dug through it by touch alone.

  I found a jug.

  Lantern oil.

  That would work.

  The shark lunged.

  I tore the cap free and hurled the jug. It exploded against its side, oil splattering across wings and body in a slick, shining spray.

  The creature slammed into the chicken cage.

  The cage collapsed under the impact.

  I did not look too closely.

  I ran.

  The shark tore free of the wreckage and locked onto me again, wings beating furiously as it lined up a straight charge.

  “Come here,” I shouted, breath burning in my chest. “You stupid, ugly flying fish. I’ve got something for you.”

  It came straight at me.

  I turned at the last second.

  I met its eyes, close enough to see myself reflected in them, and said, “I cast Wall of Fire, bitch. Now burn.”

  Fire erupted.

  The thing burst into flames as the fire caught the oil. It sizzled rapidly, heat flashing across its body in an instant. The creature screeched and reeled backward, wings beating wildly, and then it crashed straight into me.

  Its weight was more than I could bear. It crushed me into the ground, a writhing, flaming, flying shark thrashing on top of me. Every movement drove it harder into my chest and shoulders. Pain exploded everywhere at once. I felt bones snap. I felt my hair and face catch fire.

  I tried to pull the flames back, to smother them the way my ability answered me moments ago, and nothing happened. The fire burning the creature did not answer me. It was not mine.

  I screamed.

  The thing continued to thrash, jaws snapping inches from my face as it crushed the breath out of me. Agony drowned out everything else.

  Then Log hit it.

  Winnie smashed the flaming thing off of me with a blow that carried all of her fury. The impact sent it tumbling, rolling end over end across the clearing before it slammed into one of the massive red oak trunks with a wet, final crack. The creature screamed once more, then went still.

  I could not tell if its spine had snapped or if it was already dead. I could not think about that.

  I was on fire. I was broken. Pain swallowed the world.

  A heavy, meaty clap sounded nearby.

  Master Fatty Chunk walked into my blurred vision, looking down at my burning, ruined body. “Good job,” he said, nodding. “Good job. Not great for you, Azolo, but at least you figured out how to use your ability. It's not as good as Winnie’s, but…” He shrugged. “I can work with it.”

  He uncorked a bottle and poured it over me.

  The agony changed.

  Burns stitched themselves closed. Bones ground back into place. Flesh tore and reformed again and again as the liquid soaked in. I screamed as my breath was ripped from my lungs and forced back in, my vocal cords tearing and healing so fast it felt like drowning on dry land.

  I almost blacked out.

  The healing would not let me.

  I wished it had.

  After what felt like an eternity of pure agony, I stood up, threw up, or would have if I had anything left in me. A dull thud followed.

  “Oh,” Master Fatty Chunk said, sounding mildly surprised. “It actually does work. Good to know.”

  A massive chest appeared in front of us, larger than the one we had earned back in the copper zone, its presence sudden and heavy in the clearing.

  My sickness vanished the moment I saw it. The thought of what might be inside sent a thrill straight through me, sharp enough to cut through the lingering pain.

  Loot lemmings indeed, I thought.

  The realization scared me. Knowing this was probably repeatable, knowing that almost dying had not dulled the hunger at all, unsettled me more than the near death experience.