The creature watched her retreat with the patience of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run.
He was smaller than the one who’d carried her through the storm—leaner, built for precision rather than raw power. Brown fur covered his frame, darker along his spine and lightening to gray at the edges. His ears swiveled toward her, tracking every ragged breath she took. Amber eyes studied her with clinical detachment.
Around one thick wrist, a black band gleamed. Set into its center, a tear-shaped blue gem pulsed with the same rhythm as the lights in the walls.
The same blue that had flashed through the forest before the creatures vanished.
Technology. They have advanced technology.
“Who are you?” The words scraped out of her throat, sharper than she’d intended. Fear sharpened them further. “Where am I?”
The wolfman tilted his head. Something that might have been amusement flickered across his muzzle—a subtle pull of lips that didn’t quite bare teeth. “You won’t do any damage with that medgun, little one.” He gestured toward the table she’d been eyeing. “Hand it over before you hurt yourself.”
Elsa followed his gaze. The weapon-like device still sat there, within reach if she could just—
She lunged.
Her upper body carried her forward, arms outstretched, fingers closing around cool metal. She swung the device up, pointing it at the wolfman even as her legs tangled uselessly beneath her. The bed shifted. Her balance wavered.
The wolfman moved faster than anything his size should have been able to move.
His paw closed around her wrist—not painfully, but firm enough to freeze her in place. Claws pressed lightly against her skin, a reminder of what he could do if he chose. His other pawplucked the device from her grip as easily as taking a toy from a child.
“Or,” he said, voice dropping to something darker, “I will have to take it from you myself.” His amber eyes met hers, unyielding. “You won’t want that.”
Elsa jerked her arm back, but the movement sent her tilting sideways. Her knees buckled—or would have, if they’d been working. Instead, she toppled like a felled tree.
The wolfman caught her again. Of course he did.
This time, he simply picked her up and placed her back on the bed with the kind of efficiency that suggested he’d dealt with difficult patients before. His claws clicked against metal as he returned the medgun to the table, setting it down with a firmclinkthat felt pointed.
“Don’t move,” he ordered.
Elsa’s jaw tightened. “What did you do to me?”
“Saved your life.” He turned back to her, ears flicking with what might have been irritation. “You should be thanking me for taking you in and healing you.”
“Healing me?” She gestured sharply toward her useless legs, the movement wild, uncontrolled. “I can’twalk!”
“Aftereffect from the Tear Dome.” The wolfman’s tone suggested this should have been obvious. He loomed over her, his imposing frame blocking out the blue lights above. “You’ll be fine soon enough.”
“How do you know?”
His muzzle pulled back slightly, revealing the edge of teeth. Not a threat. Closer to the expression someone might make when explaining something painfully simple to someone painfully slow. “Because I’m Healer Yarx, and I’ve been supervising both your and your companions’ recovery.”
Healer.The word lodged in her brain, refusing to connect with the creature standing before her. Healers were supposedto be gentle. Reassuring. Not seven feet of muscle and fur with claws that could rip through steel.
But his amber gaze held no malice. Just a kind of weary competence that reminded her of every overworked medic she’d ever encountered on theStardancer.
Elsa forced herself to breathe. To think. Panicking wouldn’t help. Antagonizing the one creature who seemed remotely invested in keeping her alive definitely wouldn’t help.
She unclenched her fists. “What happened to the others?”
Yarx gestured toward the other domes with one clawed paw. “They’re still in stasis until the Tear Dome completes their healing process.” His ears swiveled back toward her, attention sharpening. “You’re the first to wake. Lucky you.”
The sarcasm in his tone was unmistakable.
Elsa glanced at the domes again. Through the translucent barriers, she could make out shapes—a man’s broad shoulders, another figure smaller and curled in on itself. Her fellow prisoners. Her fellowcaptives.