Eleanor did not give the remaining hyenas any chance. She charged forward, thrust her spear into the head of a retreating beast, and pulled it free at once. The creature collapsed to the ground, its face frozen in horror.
She drove into the pack and took control of the battlefield with brutal, surgical efficiency. Every movement served a purpose: kill, disable, or dominate space.
She stood amid the carnage, the spear tip dripping black fluid, her breathing steadying. The leader lay at her feet, staring up at her with bulging eyes filled with cold hatred.
Eleanor had no time to spare on dead opponents.
More than ten crows entered the battlefield with sky-piercing cries. Each was shaped like a giant crow, larger than a human. Their feathers were a profound black, as though fragments of the night sky had been torn loose and given form.
