Wapun Meadow [m] I am not a martyr, I'm a problem

Too late to ask what her problem is now, Sylianos thought when Mae's snarl broke the uneasy silence. So he had been right to be on his guard, a fact which became readily apparent when she picked up her pace.

The boy hunched his shoulders and dropped his head low. It was one of the few defense maneuvers Arsenio had taught that really sank into his thick skull. Suddenly, he wished he had paid more attention. How foolish of him to search for the creature that attacked Saleem without committing every single one of his father's lessons to memory; now he was being threatened by one of his own kind and felt terribly unprepared. He would have to trust his instincts.

When Mae brushed past him, Sylianos wasted no time waiting to see what she would do. He had read the threat in both her voice and her body language and needed no further information; he was already wild-eyed with both adrenaline and unexpected fright. He parted his jaws and snapped for her exposed flank as she wheeled, seeking not to hold but to slice flesh and release.