The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,36

cell next to hers. The one that would sometimes reach a paw through the bars to be scratched. She had nicknamed him Scavenger. She wished Roshian had picked any of the other animals, but she’d make up for it that night, and slip Scavenger an extra cake after he was revived.

“Hey, you okay?” Lucky asked.

“Yes. It is nothing. Get a carcass bag ready.” She nodded toward the glove box.

She continued driving to the end of the track, where the truck stopped automatically. Jenny and Christopher started readying the rifles. One was a compact model for close-range shots, the other a long-range scope.

Roshian stepped onto the parched soil, but he waved away the rifles that Christopher offered him. He strode twenty feet off, scanning the horizon, motioning for Christopher to stay close, as Jenny slid into the shade of the backseat.

Lucky unfolded a fresh canvas bag as they watched from behind the windshield.

“He’s so short,” Jenny whispered. “He has to be the smallest Kindred I’ve seen. I think he has a Napoleon complex.” Roshian beckoned toward the truck again, and Jenny sighed and opened the side door. “Probably wants a freaking parasol now.”

Once Mali and Lucky were alone in the truck, Mali asked, “What is a Napoleon complex.”

“When a short guy makes up for his lack of height by being a dick,” Lucky said.

Mali considered this. Dick. She’d have to remember that word. She tried to focus on cleaning the dust from her driving gloves, but her eyes kept creeping back to Roshian. He was arguing with Jenny, who looked displeased.

“Why do you wish to see the animals being shot,” Mali asked.

Lucky looked at her with surprise. “I didn’t come along because I wanted to see them shot. Backstage, all I ever see is the stunned animals. Bleeding, bruised messes. Or else cramped up in their cages at night. I wanted to see them differently, for once. Out in the open.” He paused. “Even if none of it’s real.”

Mali looked back at Scavenger. He licked a paw slowly.

“You care about the animals as much as you care for people,” she concluded.

He shrugged. “I’ll always care a lot about you guys, and, hell, even Leon. Even Dane. I’ve tried to help, where I can. I even thought I could lead, once.” He paused, squinting at the giraffes in the distance. “But it’s different with the animals. Who’s looking out for them? We’re all so focused on setting humanity free, but even if Cora beats the Gauntlet, it wouldn’t change anything for the animals. They don’t have a champion. They don’t have a chance to prove their worth.” He let out a sigh and started picking at some marks carved in the truck’s dashboard.

Mali blinked at him. “You.”

“Me what?”

“You asked who is looking out for them,” she explained. “You are.” She paused, considering if she was using the correct tense. “You can.” And then reconsidered again. “You must.”

Lucky leaned back, as if he’d never quite considered this. Outside, Roshian and Jenny were still arguing. They called over Christopher, who rested his hands on his hips, shaking his head. They argued more, and at last Christopher gave in to whatever Roshian wanted. He came back to the vehicle and wordlessly dug through his expedition bag before returning to Roshian with a rifle.

“Why does Roshian want a different gun?” Lucky asked.

“I do not know. I do not recognize it from the armory. I think he brought it himself.” She glanced sidelong at Lucky. She didn’t need to tell him that was against the rules.

Ahead, Roshian cocked the rifle.

Jenny turned away, her face pinched.

Under the acacia tree, Scavenger had picked up their scent. Some of the animals, the newer ones especially, would run at first whiff of a predator. But Scavenger had been through this countless times before and just laid his head back down. Christopher picked up a dusty rock to rouse Scavenger into a run that would make things more sporting.

“No.” Roshian’s voice cut like a knife. “Leave it.”

“But it will be too easy to shoot—”

“Leave it.”

Christopher let the rock fall. He paced back to the vehicle, chewing anxiously on the inside of his cheek.

Mali leaned out the driver’s-side window to ask him what was happening.

“Better if you don’t know,” Christopher said. “Trust me.”

Mali folded her arms tight, squinting into the sun. Last night, Scavenger had slipped a paw through the bars. She’d scratched his head, and his tail had wagged.

They watched as Roshian hefted the rifle. Scavenger’s head swiveled toward them. He was