Revan pulled his forehead off the dead creature's shell.
'Get up. Get up. Just two left.'
His vision swam. Red at the edges. Black in the center.
But he could still see. And what he saw was going to get someone else killed.
Lyra's creature had backed itself against the cart, using the iron frame as a wall to shield its spine.
It kept its head low and its armored skull facing outward, snapping at anything that came within range. Lyra was circling it.
Trying to find an angle that didn't exist.
"Lyra!" Revan's voice came out raw and thin, barely carrying over the wind. He swallowed blood and tried again.
"It's protecting its back against the cart. Bait the ram."
She didn't look at him.
"If it charges the frame again, the cart slides on the rail. It'll overcommit. You'll have half a second at the spine."
Lyra kept circling. Like he hadn't spoken.
"Lyra—"
"I know," she said. Flat.
