"You know," Gabi whispered. "The first time I got drunk, like drunk, drunk, I was getting on the bus home and right at the back, hiding under the seats, I found a dog. I thought he was a stray. Don't know how he managed to sneak onto the bus, but turned out he had a collar and everything – belonged to someone on the other end of town from my house."

Luke shot her an amused glance. "What did you do?"

"Well, because drunk Gabi is apparently a complete idiot, instead of just taking him to a police station, or checking to see if his collar had a number on it, I decided it was time for a crusade to take him home myself. Personally."

"Uh-oh."

"Yeah..." Gabi smiled bashfully. "So long story short, there's me, four a.m. tugging this poor guy along by the collar down some suburban picket fence nightmare, and then I'm ringing somebody's doorbell."

Luke tried to stifle a laugh. "Jeez, what did they do?"

"It was a mix of 'so happy to have my dog back' to 'some underage drunk is beating down my door at four in the morning'. But, you know, I got that dog home."

"Good for you." He fixed her with a questioning look. "What's your point, exactly?"

"Oh, nothing." She twanged her bowstring experimentally. "Just, I thought that was a weird night."

"Well, buckle up, Gabs," Kenny chuckled darkly from his position tucked against a tree a few yards further down the ridge. "I think tonight's going to top all our stories."

Luke nodded, turning an arrow between his fingers as he waited for the signal from the others. The trio had found a clump of trees over looking the barn where they had a good vantage point to take shots at the patrolling guards. Fortunately it didn't seem like the poachers really expected anyone to track them down. There didn't seem to be much of a pattern to their wanderings, and their eyes generally remained rooted to the dirt track – the only normal way someone would be approaching the compound.

Somewhere out there Mercy was creeping through the woods, as quiet and deadly as a knife in the dark. Kasper, with Kyan in tow, had circled around to the far side of the barn, where a long row of windows waited. Once Luke and the others started their distraction from the front, Kyan would cause further mayhem by smashing those windows to pieces with his bat.

Between them, this would hopefully provide enough chaos for Kasper and Mercy to strike.

"Hey guys," Luke said quietly. "I just want to say, thanks for doing this. I wouldn't have blamed you if you just walked away."

"Careful now, Arbor," Kenny warned. "Still time for that."

"I think you'd have done the same for us," Gabi told him. "Let's just get through this all in one piece, alright?"

"Be careful, both of you," he said, fighting down the catch in his throat. "If anything happened to you guys, or to Kyan, I don't think I'd be able to live with it."

"I'm not getting any closer than I have to." Kenny winked, patting the air rifle. "You're the hero today, buddy. I'll stick to the supporting cast."

Then his phone vibrated. Sucking in a steadying breath, Luke pulled it free from his pocket and looked down at the text from Kyan.

Ready when you are.

"Alright, we're ready to go." He looked at his friends, silently praying to anyone that might be listening that they would get through this unscathed. "Good luck."

No more waiting.

Luke brought up the arrow and knocked it to the bow. Breathed in and out; leaned out from behind the tree trunk. Drawing the string back tight, he looked down on the guards. There were two in range right now, one wandering back and forth with a rifle crooked in one arm, another puffing on a cigarette as he leaned on the fence. He opted for the stationery target.

As he fixed another human being in his sights, a sudden rush of revulsion and self doubt came bubbling up from his gut. He'd never shot at anything more animated than a piece of plyboard. What the hell was he even doing? Could he even do this?

The man was a poacher, he reminded himself, a murderer. But what did that mean to the police? To the law? What if he actually killed someone here tonight and was found out? How would they prove anything about their motives? In six months his life could go from one of bright-eyed enthusiasm to the cold certainty of a jail cell.

Oaklynn's face forced itself into his mind. He thought of her smile; thought of the storm in her eyes and the chime of her voice. He thought of the first night she showed him what she really was; the first night she trusted him with a secret that would change both their lives. He remembered her crashing through the cabin wall, rescuing him from DeVergne. The whole thing was a dream, a weird, wonderful, wonky dream that he suddenly realised he wouldn't have traded for anything.

He really did love her.

Now's your chance to prove it.

She'd been willing to kill for him, and he needed to be willing to do the same. With a final effort of will, Luke shunted his worries to the back of his mind. Oaklynn was down there and right here, right now, he had the chance to help her, but he had to act. He focused his mind, trying to imagine this as just another day at the range, just with different targets. The technique was the same. He could do this.

With painstaking care he drew the bow back, sighting down towards the guard most directly in his eyeline. He took aim at the man's lower body, aiming for a leg, ideally. He could feel a tremble in his fingers and desperately crammed those nerves back down inside him. It was now or never.

He exhaled.

His fingers snapped open.

The bow tipped forward.

The arrow whipped silently away through the trees.

From this distance it was difficult to visually follow the flight of the arrow, but his aim was proved true an instant later. The man he'd targeted suddenly jerked upright, sending the smouldering ember of his cigarette flying, before he collapsed screaming to the forest floor, clutching at his thigh. The shaft of the arrow was just visible, sticking out of the man's leg.

Adrenaline went surging through Luke's body as he whipped another arrow from the quiver and knocked it to his bow, heart pounding as the other guard rushed over in alarm. He started to aim, but a twang sounded from his left. The second guard spun to the ground with a shriek, an arrow embedded in his shoulder. Luke glanced across to see Gabi, eyes wide but hands firm as she slid another arrow into place.

"Nice shooting guys," Kenny murmured. "Dibs on the next one."

As if on cue, a third guard came pelting around the side of the building to investigate the noise. A sharp snap echoed through the trees as Kenny fired. The woman let out a howl of agony, clapping a hand to her face and staggering back behind the cover of the building. She leaned out and fired a wild shot into the woods from her rifle.

Luke started in terror, knowing that someone was actually shooting at them, but it quickly became apparent that the woman had no idea where her assailants actually were. The bullet ripped harmlessly into the forest, nowhere near them. A second shot rang out, again disappearing into the night and hitting nothing but bark.

The two injured guards tried to scramble out of their vulnerable position, the one with the injured arm half-dragging his companion towards the barn doors. A flicker of movement from the right snagged Luke's attention, however, and he swivelled towards it, drawing back his second arrow.

A fourth poacher – the last of the perimeter guards – came slinking around the corner of the building, hunting rifle locked up to his shoulder as he scanned for targets. Luke wasn't about to take any chances, and he let fly.

Hitting a moving human with an arrow was always going to be a tough ask, even for someone with Luke's skills, and he spat a curse when the shaft hissed wide – just. It thunked into the wall of the barn a couple of feet from the poacher's skull.

The man leapt out from the wall with a yelp, eyes flashing towards the arrow. He hesitated for an instant, startled.

And Gabi's arrow hit him in the stomach.

Coughing in pain the poacher dropped his gun and collapsed, pawing at the shaft protruding from his gut, eyes wide with shock as he lay there. Voices from within the compound were beginning to rise now and Luke shrank back against the tree trunk when he saw the barn doors begin to slide open. More guards spilled into the clearing rifles raised, scanning the trees and barking orders at each other.

From the back of the compound there came the sudden, unmistakable crash of breaking glass.

Then another, and another. Kyan was working his way along the rear wall of the barn with his bat, smashing the windows to pieces. Some of the guards that had just exited the poacher hideout looked back in confusion. The snap of Kenny's air rifle sounded again and one man screeched, staggering back towards the safety of the building, one hand clutching the back of his neck.

The other guards started firing, blasting bullets into the treeline. Someone swung one of the outside flood lights into the forest, but for now they still didn't seem to have any idea where the attacks were coming from.

Luke knew that wouldn't last. He waved Gabi and Kenny back, and the pair didn't need much urging to hunker down out of sight, hugging their weapons close. Peering out from his own refuge, Luke tried to find a fresh firing spot they could move to.

That's when he spotted them, two boiling globes of light hurtling through the trees toward the barn. The one at the far side must have been Kasper, to the right he assumed Mercy had been waiting to make her move. In a matter of seconds the Karkadda came exploding out of the woods, both of them clearing the fence with ease as they bounded vengefully forward.

More shouts of alarm went up from the poachers and a couple of rifle shots rang out, but it was too late. The Karkadda hit the building like a pair of guided missiles. Luke heard the splintering crack as the barn walls gave way, and closest to him he got a clear look as Mercy simply smashed her way inside.

"Holy shit," Gabi breathed, staring in amazement. "I ... what do we do now?"

"We help." Luke rose from his hiding place, a third arrow in place.

The guards that had left the building were now piling back inside to deal with the new threat, and he managed to catch one of them in the lower back as he loosed another shaft. The woman tripped forward and crashed into the ground, half-rolling, half-dragging herself into the building and out of sight.

A bullet cracked a branch a few meters away. Someone had figured out their hiding place. A floodlight swung across them and he ducked back down again. More shots lashed up into the foliage and to his left he saw Kenny tackle Gabi to the ground, lying across her as bark and sap showered them.

"Time to go, Luke!" Kenny yelled. "I think we've done enough!"

Luke glanced across at them, then back down at the unfolding chaos. Screams and cries came spilling from within the barn, but his eyes were drawn to one of the discarded rifles that now lay unattended on the ground outside.

He needed to see Oaklynn. Needed to know she was alright. He couldn't just sit and hide up here while the Karkadda risked their own lives.

"Look after this," he shouted back, tossing his Hawkshot and the quiver of arrows onto the ground behind him. Then he was off, sliding down the muddy slope in an awkward, scrambling run.

"LUKE!" Gabi's panicked scream chased him down the hill, but he ignored it, fixing his eyes on the gun. No-one was paying any real attention to him now, with the eruption of noise from within the barn itself. The guards spun away from the floodlit ridge and rushed back inside.

He hit the ground, rolled and bounced to his feet, panting for breath as he sprinted out across the open clearing. In one swift movement he jumped, vaulted the low perimeter fence and landed on all fours on the other side. Luke crawled crab-like over to the abandoned rifle and scooped it up, checking the sight, and checking that the chamber was loaded. He'd been to a shooting range before; he knew the basics. Hopefully that would be enough for now.

Gulping down his fear, he stood up, hefted the rifle and advanced into the barn.

All hell had broken loose inside.

For a moment he just stared as all around him poachers were fighting for their lives. Pistols, rifles and knives were pitted against the ferocious, feral power of the Karkadda. More than thirty of them remained chained up along the walls, but Kasper and Mercy had freed several others, igniting a brutal melee within the confined space.

The room was a long rectangle, with an upper gantry level. The walls were ill-maintained wood, and he could see the gaping chasms where Kasper and Mercy had made their entrances. Bullets cracked back and forth; one poacher went soaring through the air, hit the gantry rail and came tumbling back down to earth, landing on his neck with a nauseating crunch.

He saw two poachers already dead. A Karkadda lay nearby, a bullet hole in his skull. Further down the room he could see more dead Karkadda, but these had not been killed in the fighting. Their heads bore the horrific wounds where their horns had been extracted by DeVergne and his butchers.

Past them he saw the row of shattered windows at the far end of the building – Kyan's handiwork – but his eyes were drawn to something else entirely.

A grey cuboid of metal squatted on a slightly raised platform, its structure stained with the unmistakable gore red of dried blood. Luke's heart slammed in his chest when he saw the figure strapped to it.

Oaklynn.

She was alive – he could see her struggling at the thick leather straps that pinned her to the slab like some kind of human sacrifice. Then he was running, hurtling unheeding into the chaos without another thought.

Luke ducked and twisted his way through brawling humans and Karkadda. He spotted Kasper in the middle of it, his horn driven through the shoulder of a screaming female poacher as he exacted his vengeance. She flailed helplessly as he flipped her over with a violent jerk of his neck muscles. The woman sailed through the air and smashed clean through one of the side windows, tumbling out into the night.

One of the poachers tried to run, sprinting for a side door that lolled off its hinges. The man just made it over the threshold before a figure stepped out from the shadows. Kyan emerged, swinging his bat with both hands and smashing it into the poacher's chest with stunning force. The sheer impact flipped the man head over heels and he slammed to the ground face down, wheezing for breath, and Luke suspected sporting a few extra broken ribs.

He darted forward, clutching the rifle tightly as he moved. A bullet ricocheted off a railing a few yards away and he spun, looking for the shooter. A shell-shocked looking older man frantically worked to reload his pistol.

Luke didn't hesitate, not with Oaklynn's life on the line. He aimed the rifle and shot the man in the chest.

They were barely ten yards apart. Even for an amateur like Luke, it was hard to miss. The man fell with a strangled howl, spluttering his life blood out onto the barn floor. Luke wrenched his gaze away, forcing himself not to think about it, focusing only on Oaklynn.

A bullet whacked into the floorboards right in front of him and he stopped sharply, panic rising up in him afresh as he tried to spot the culprit. Wrestling with the hunting-rifle's firing pin, he looked around frantically. For a moment confusion reigned in his mind. The bullet could have come from anywhere.

Then he spotted the figure on the gantry.

He recognised the woman, her pearl-white skin and short blonde hair – one of the thugs who'd kidnapped him for DeVergne what felt like weeks ago now. She cocked the rifle effortlessly and took aim at him, her face a mask of pure anger. Luke tried to shoot back, hefting the rifle with desperate speed and squeezing the trigger. She didn't even flinch as the bullet clanged off the metal roofing behind her, looking down her sight at him.

An arrow hit her in the neck before she could fire.

She spun drunkenly with the impact, bouncing off the railings on either side of the gantry and dropping her rifle. Her hands pawed at the arrow in her throat for a few futile seconds before she lost her balance and pitched forward off the railing.

The poacher thudded to the ground, dead.

Luke looked back over his shoulder to see Gabi standing at the entrance to the barn, a stunned look on her face, empty bow in one shaking hand. She gathered herself; looked at him.

"GO!" she screamed over the din.

Luke didn't need to be told twice. He bolted free from the melee, breaking out into the open space ringed by the dead Karkadda. Forcing himself not to look at the bodies, he focused only on Oaklynn. Light raged beneath her skin, her clothing scorched and torn all over. A bloody, red welt scarred the left side of her face.

"Luke?!" her voice was a sob. "How are... how are you here?"

"You can thank Kasper for that," he answered quickly, examining the straps. "How about I explain once we're out of here?"

"Yes, please."

"Alright, hold still. I'll get you loose."

The straps were simple enough – hard leather held in place by thick metal buckles. He worked quickly, tugging at them hard and one by one peeling Oaklynn loose. From the top down he worked until she could sit up, leaning forward to help unbuckle the last ones. Then her head snapped up, eyes fixing on something over his shoulder.

"What-"

"Behind you!"

Too late.

Strong hands grabbed him from behind and wrenched him away before he could release her from the final bonds. Oaklynn let out a shriek of panic as Luke found himself spun round, and something solid smashed into his jaw.

Pain exploded in his skull and he went spinning, crashing into a wooden support pillar. The rifle skittered away across the floor and Luke collapsed, head spinning and tasting blood. He looked blearily up to find his assailant standing over him.

Simon DeVergne stood there, his face twisted in hatred. He had a cut above one eye that spilled crimson down his aquiline features, and his long coat was coated with mud and dirt. In one hand he held his enormous knife, its blade slick with blood.

No more words would be wasted. DeVergne leapt forward, stabbing the knife towards Luke's throat with a scream of rage.