“You’re giving this one to me, too?” Fox said, a smile in his voice. “I thought you were better than that.”
The wolfshifter whipped around at his voice, and Sofia took that moment of distraction. Her dagger sank into his gut. She twisted it up and under his ribs, pushing with all her strength until she met her mark.
He gave a guttural cough and fell, writhing in pain on the ground. His breaths turned wet and gurgling.
Sofia had missed his heart and hit his lung instead. She turned away. He’d die eventually.
“The others,” Fox said, stepping over him and looking down the tunnel.
Sofia nodded, already running. She glanced long enough at the two eggs the shifter had dropped to see that they were okay before she darted past them.
The tunnel began to widen, the black shadows turning gray with a distant light. The air grew colder by the second.
They ran for another few minutes before Fox finally slowed her with a hand on her shoulder. She was wheezing, each ragged breath echoing in the tunnel.
“You’re no use as a fighter if you’re dead,” he said, preempting any argument.
Sofia knew he was right. She still had the coldfled in her bag, but that was back in the cavern. Her ears strained. The tunnel was silent other than her breathing. The other wolfshifters were gone, along with the rest of the dragon eggs.
“We can’t give up,” she said, no conviction left in the words.
“It’s not that simple and you know it.” He looked down at her, and his face pinched in concern. “And you’re bleeding. We need to head back.”
Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Two was better than zero. They’d made a difference, even if it didn’t feel like enough. She nodded and let Fox turn them back.
By the time they made it back to the eggs and the shifters, the one she’d torn the lung of was dead. They each picked up an egg gently. They were heavier than they looked and large enough that Sofia could barely see over the egg as she cradled it in her arms. She had to take breaks occasionally to rest, but they made their way slowly back to the main cavern.
They heard the keening wails of the dragon before they were out of the tunnel, the sound making Sofia’s chest ache. They’d saved two, but even more had disappeared with the wolfshifters. Each egg was a potential dragon for Harlow to manipulate and control. Or perhaps he’d simply smash them. She didn’t know.
Chalia was at the tunnel opening when they came through, eyes searching over them both, noting their wounds before taking in the two eggs in their arms.
“You saved them,”she said.
“We only saved two,”Sofia said, arms shaking as she made it to the edge of the lake and set the egg down in one of the empty spots.
Chalia’s father was there, along with the three other dragons.
He bent down, lowering his head until he was looking her in the eyes. They were a deep blue that made her think of the sky just before dawn.“You saved two of our kind. We couldn’t have saved them without you. Thank you.”
Sofia couldn’t hold back her tears and words escaped her, but she nodded.
Fox was beside her, pulling her into his arms, his chin resting on the top of her head. “You did good,” he said, his words murmured into her hair. “You did so good.”
“They got away with so many of them,” she said, the words cracking something in her chest.
“But not all of them.”
She was so tired of losing people—of losing.
Fox seemed to sense her thoughts. He pushed her gently away until he could look her in the eye. Callused fingers lifted to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his blond stubble having turned into a full beard at some point over the past few weeks. His face was drawn, but he looked at her as if she held the world.
“You’ve done more than you could ever know. You’ve saved more than you can count. You saved me.” He waited until she gave a small nod, and he rubbed his thumb across her cheek, wiping the tears. She believed him in that moment, his eyes so earnest and honest. “You can cry and grieve, but it doesn’t change what you’ve accomplished.”
She didn’t move, breathing him in. He smelled of sweat and salt, and it made her feel safe, even if only for a moment. She stepped back at last, feeling more centered.
“Your wound,” Fox said, fingers gently pulling her bloody shirt up to look at the damage.
She looked down, too, expecting the worst. But the cuts weren’t as deep as she expected from the amount of blood. They were barely scrapes.