Jiang's backward claw was saving his life by tearing his leg apart.
It held the saddle loop while the rest of him swung beneath Mottle. Each beat of her wounded wing pulled his weight through the claw and opened the new gap where her flight feather had torn free.
Blood whipped past him in red drops.
Ilex lay across the saddle rail, reaching until her bound knee stopped her. "Jiang!"
He could not climb. His failed flipper slapped leather without closing around it. The good foot found Mottle's side, slipped from the moving feathers, and struck the bad leg hard enough to whiten his sight.
He wanted the saddle above him, the warm family behind the arch, and enough sense to let the hunters finish their own monster. Mottle's blood kept crossing his face. Each drop made the selfish answer heavier.
Below them, the bellwyrm dived toward the nursery.
