The hike to the hidden nest was slow going. The party scrambled over rock slides, moss soft and thick enough to suction their boots, and over decaying trunks hidden by lichen and leaves. More than once, Royse stumbled into one of the Glavenus's massive footprints. At least they were still going the right way.

The nest itself was hidden behind a thicket of undergrowth in a fissure of a rockface shelf. From Emil's earlier scouting, he'd discovered two entrances that essentially made the fissure a crooked hallway of rock and damp moss. The fifteen-foot cliff was easy to scale. The party knew the plan.

Marco pushed past the trampled brush and bloodied dirt while Emil readied his barrel bomb. Royse and Tavia were already halfway up the rockface. They planned to hit it hard and fast—Emil's bomb would flush the brute wyvern out to the opposite side, where Royse and Tavia would wait to ambush it from above. They couldn't afford another day of chasing it, and more importantly, Tavia wanted to be back in town and in a tub by nightfall.

"It's gone," Marco said as he returned. His voice was just loud enough for the women to hear. "There's a Queropeco in the nest now."

Royse groaned in agitation and pulled herself up over the lip. She crouched there, her eyes burning through her helmet. "Are you serious? It was there last night, right, Emil?" she called while she helped Tavia up.

"Must've moved after I scouted." Emil scratched his bearded chin through his open-faced helmet. "Were there any tracks inside? Don't tell me the Queropeco fought it and won."

"It definitely wasn't in there, and I didn't want to risk waking the damn bird, but I think I saw tracks going out the other side."

"Well it couldn't have gone far with how beat up it is. Let's split up."

The men continued west while Royse and Tavia took a moment to catch their breath. Royse grumbled and paced, one hand on her hunting knife while the other swatted at low hanging branches.

They followed the broken edge of the rock towards the opposite entrance while avoiding the loose roots of trees trying to grow over the empty air. Most of the mist had dispersed during the hike, the sun striking through thick green leaves and dappling the ground even so high up.

It was obvious the Glavenus hadn't climbed up anywhere. The trees were tightly packed and undisturbed. Only the small fauna stirred the greenery, and that alone was a solid clue the monster had disappeared somewhere. When they reached the northern edge of the fissure, Royse pulled out her binoculars and scanned the ground below.

"There's some blood but I don't see any prints," she growled. "What a waste of time."

"Maybe we should climb down and get a closer look," said Tavia. "Last time we tangled with it, it jumped as far as a Tigrex to tackle me. I wouldn't be surprised to find tracks further under the trees."

But the trees below were also undisturbed. Tavia was six-feet tall and barely reached one thick knee on the Glavenus; it couldn't have gone through the trees without crushing or uprooting a few.

Royse stretched her back, arms swinging wide, hammer knocking against her spine. "This whole trip has been a waste. Three days for one hunt." She rolled her eyes.

Tavia shrugged. "It's good pay for an easy target. Think about it, you could be handling eggs or mushrooms right now."

The other woman removed her helmet and spat in the dirt. "You won't catch me doing grunt work. Deliveries are for greenhorns."

"Money is money. We all start somewhere."

"I've never delivered more than a whetfish in my career. Oh, I get it. A few days ago you said you're usually a solo hunter, right? No wonder."

Tavia was going to let the comment slide—she'd dealt with Royse's type before—but something bristled in her stomach and the words came out before she could stop them.

"No wonder, huh? No wonder being just a solo hunter gives me the freedom to accept any job I want? Yes, how tragic that my pockets are overflowing from my third delivery of the day while you're still waiting for your group to sort through—"

"Alright, Sword, save it for the wyvern," said Royse. She replaced her helmet and started back the way they came. "It wasn't a personal attack. I don't know you from Schrade, and I really don't care to know you."

Tavia followed, her eyes trained on the hammer snapping delicate branches. Her blood still ran loud in her ears. She knew that heavy hammer could be drawn in an instant, her skull fractured before she realized. She didn't believe Royse would try anything yet Tavia's nerves stayed coiled tight.

It was rare to run into stigma in the Guild but there was something about solo hunters that often set people off. Solo hunters were braggarts, they couldn't work in a team if their life depended on it, they let team members suffer to save their own skin—Tavia had heard it all and then some. And it was all lies.

Tavia didn't have a preference, if she was honest. She enjoyed the freedom of going solo; she didn't have to jump when her group demanded or split any money. But she loved the feeling of fighting with someone, of the possibility of a team so in sync they could finish a hunt without losing the monster once.

She was never selfish to the point her team would get hurt. It was unthinkable.

She took a deep breath of the mountain air to clear her thoughts. "Then we're on the same page," she muttered.

"You haven't done me any harm. Yet."

"We've been out here for three days and you're still alive. I shared my burn salve with you. I'm literally watching your back right now."

"And I offer the same courtesy. I just want you to know where I stand." Royse stopped and turned to Tavia, her shoulders squared.

The crack of gunfire was like lightning to Tavia's senses. An explosion followed.

Small creatures scattered from the treetops and the earth below; a family of kelbi bolted from the mist like terrified ghosts, disappearing in a blink.

Royse was already moving. She tore through the trees and brush, her hammer already in hand. Tavia followed close behind. The stand-off was instantly forgotten as a familiar roar climbed the cliff and flooded Tavia's body with a rush of adrenaline.

They made it back to the southern entrance. The sounds of battle, of blades and bullets and hoarse cries from monster and man, came from beyond the edge of the cliff. The rockface they'd climbed had collapsed and scattered boulders over the field; getting down would be tricky.

Royse didn't pause. She flew over the shattered rock, her own battle cry joining the fray. Tavia stopped at the loose rubble and assessed the field.

Marco was at his preferred distance and quickly reloading his massive bowgun. Emil kept the monster busy by jabbing at its legs, shooting when the monster's attention faltered to Marco. Emil swept between its legs and unleashed a bolt of wyvern's fire on its belly. The Glavenus screamed, staggered backwards, just in time for Royse to land a blow between its shoulders as she fell. The Glavenus tried to swirl and rear back all at once and instead tripped and fell.

Tavia watched it all unfold in two heartbeats, and then her long sword was thrumming its ancient song in her hand. She slid down the rubble and jumped from the collapsed rock, landing and rolling on the ground still seven feet below. She was grateful most of the cliff had come down; although her knees would still complain later, a seven foot drop was easier than fifteen.

She ran for the downed Glavenus. The team was already there pummeling it with blows. Emil was trying to set up another burst of wyvern's fire. Tavia's sword struck the monster's thick plates and sang a note of pure bliss.

It wouldn't take long. She was ready to slice through plates, muscle, bone—whatever it took.

The Glavenus rolled back to its feet with a belch of fire. Its massive bladed tail swung with newfound precision; Emil threw up his shield but Tavia wasn't so lucky. The tail hit her chest with the force of a stampede. One second she could breathe—the next, her lungs felt compressed to her spine. She was flung back into the rubble, her helmet echoing with the impact and jarring her neck.

For a terrible moment everything was black.

Tavia existed in a weightless, ringing void of nothing. Realistically she knew she had limbs, but for some reason they weren't attached. She tried to wiggle her fingers but they refused to respond. And then she heard something familiar.

Her sword was there in her hand, the song of its strength as loud as the ringing in her head, and warmth flooded her body. She opened her eyes and air came back to her like a drink of cold water in the desert.

Someone shouted from far away. Tavia was back on her feet, sword raised as she spit the coppery taste of defeat from her mouth. Through the tough layers of her gauntlets, she felt the pulse of power from her sword. It was angry. It was hungry.

The Glavenus breathed an inferno as Royse and Emil rolled clear; the surrounding trees were too damp to do anything but smoulder. Tavia dodged the small fires catching on the underbrush and charged the Glavenus while it swung its massive head after the others.

She managed a clean slice through the Glavenus's side; her sword hummed gratefully. She followed the first swing with another to the nearest leg, then the other, working her way towards the back where the tail hung heavy and red. The Glavenus continued its volley of fire and then rushed forward, its massive jaws ready to snap, but stopped just short of Marco to swing its tail around. The Glavenus clamped its tail in its mouth.

Marco ran. Emil's shield was ready. Royse took the chance to pound its already-ruined face before dodging out of range. Tavia grinned behind her helmet as she surged forward—this was it.

It never happened with rational thought. Tavia let herself get lost in the song of her sword, let the music take over and direct her steps. Her blade danced gracefully with each arc, every attack aimed just so, honing into the weakest spots as she let loose against the meat of the tail. For a breathless moment, her blade was caught, the dance unfinished. But the sword always knew what it wanted and what needed to happen, and her body was happy to answer the call.

With a hitch of her shoulders, an unthinking flex of her biceps, the sword cut clean through.

The Glavenus seemed to pause for a heartbeat. Tavia expected it to unleash its newly sharpened tail and send her flying again, but before she had control of her body to brace, the monster cried out. And when the massive jaw opened, the severed tail fell to the ground.

Her muscles burned from overuse. Her sword was louder than ever, it's blade glowing softly with power. The hilt pulsed with need, demanding the use of Tavia's body if only she would surrender.

"Tavia, move!"

Sound came back to her all at once. Her ears rang from the Glavenus's enraged roar, and she realized she was in the direct path of a blast of fire.

Blood made the ground slippery. Before she could sheathe her sword, before she could move, she was surrounded by blinding white and molten heat.

"Hey, you good?" someone asked.

When she opened her eyes, Emil was next to her, his massive shield covering both of them. She was grateful he couldn't see her goofy grin.

"Thank goodness for shields," she said with a laugh.

"You might try one sometime. C'mon, let's finish this thing off."