Thea cursed again, louder and rougher than before. I felt her scrutiny, hard and accusing, but I didn't glance at her.

One elbow locked around the son's neck, I pulled back my free hand, the one holding the knife, and thrust down toward his chest.

I landed without warning on the rock-strewn ground. The impact surprised and jarred me. My jaws snapped together and my fingers flew open. The knife fell to the ground and I tumbled onto my back. Unarmed, I didn't pause; I shoved myself up and, seeing it now only inches away, grabbed my staff.

I pivoted slowly, looking for the son. He was close and back in his animal form. We were alone now; Thea had left, in pursuit of the bird, I assumed. I had no idea how she meant to catch it, or if she could, but here and now I had my own battle to fight. I focused on the son.

I moved forward, my staff low and positioned to strike against his now smaller body. The snorting growl I'd heard earlier grew louder, and his eyes glittered with dark emotion.

I swung. With a sickening thud, the end of my staff collided with his head. He slid backward, his claws scrambling at the ground and his growl growing so loud it was almost a roar.

In seconds he was back on his feet. He circled to my left, his teeth snapping. He was watching me, calculating my next move.

He bared his teeth, declaring a challenge.

Deep in the battle, I released a yell, sidestepped, and jabbed at his head-this time with enough force to kill.

My staff collided with dirt and rock. The impact reverberated up my arms and into my body. I jumped back as if electrocuted and surveyed the ground, searching, wondering what the hell had happened, how I'd missed.

A hand shot forward and grabbed my staff, or tried to. I sidestepped, twisting the staff up and over my head, then lashed sideways, aiming for where a lifetime of practice told me a throat would be located.