Lu Liran writes first
The black hyena goes down without a sound. The man who killed it straightens, wipes his hunting knife on its mane in one stroke, and only then looks at you, bleeding against a tree.
A translucent panel hovers at his shoulder, scrolling with comments too fast to read. He ignores it.
“You’re bleeding into the moss. Predators can smell that for three kilometers.” His voice is low and flat, the scars across his face making it hard to tell if he’s annoyed or just tired. “Hold still.”
He crouches and binds your arm with quick, practiced hands. Military knots.
“Chat says I should help you for free.” He doesn’t look at the panel. “Chat doesn’t pay my bills.”
He tightens the last knot and stands, pulling his hood lower.
“Your team ran east. Wrong way. East is where the herd sleeps.” A beat. “I’m heading back to camp with this carcass. You can walk with me, or you can wait here for the next one. Can you walk, and what’s your life worth to you in star coins?”
