Sedric quickly shifted his grip. They sat still, waiting. There was a tentative bump against the bottom of the boat. Sedric tightened his grip on the seat, felt his nails press against the hard wood. Carson was turned on his seat, watching him, a tense grin on his face. A short fishing spear was in his hand. Sedric moistened his lips and felt a second, harder bump, followed by a sideways push. Carson mouthed the words “Be still” at him. That wasn’t a problem. He felt too scared to move.

Then came an impact that lifted Sedric’s end of the boat out of the water. It settled with a splash and at the same moment, a gallator struck it from the side. The boat tipped far enough to ship some water, but righted itself. The gallator surged at the boat again but could not get its squat-necked head into it. Carson reared back and, with a huff of effort, sank the fishing spear into the thing’s neck. It gave a gurgled squeal and fell back into the water. The slime it had left on the side of the boat stank.

“Hang on TIGHT!” Carson’s terse warning came just in time. Sedric tightened his grip just as the boat was struck from the other side. His body whipped with the impact, and nearly slammed him against the toxic slime oozing down the side of the boat. A buffet of wind hit them, and then a tremendous splash of water. It soaked Sedric and added more water to what was already in the boat.

It took a few seconds for him to understand that Spit had been briefly airborne. The little silver dragon had actually managed a moment of flight before splashing down beside the boat and nearly swamping it. The cold water had driven the breath from Sedric’s lungs. He was still shuddering and gasping when Spit lifted a struggling gallator from the water and joyously sheared it in half. As the two bloody halves fell from his jaws, the dragon darted his head under the water and came up with a second gallator. This one he gripped by its head, and it thrashed wildly, showering water and toxins in a spray. Both Carson and Sedric cowered in the boat, covering their faces until Spit clamped his jaws and the creature stilled in death.

As they sat up cautiously, Spit wolfed down the body of the gallator and then nosed in the water until he came up with the severed halves of the first one. These he ate with evident enjoyment.

“You’re welcome,” Carson said sarcastically. “I always enjoy being the bait on a hook.” But despite his words, Sedric could tell that the hunter was mildly amused by the dragon’s strategy and respected him for it. He was still shaking his head over this when Carson said in a low voice, “Oh, sweet Sa, no. I didn’t want to find him like that.”

Sedric’s eyes snapped to his face, then he followed his gaze. There was Greft’s boat. It was not quite overturned, but it was tipped up against a tangle of brush. As one, they dug their paddles in and left Spit to his feeding.

Greft was in the boat still. He’d wedged himself in, and the gallators hadn’t managed to dislodge him. Some of the venom from a gallator’s skin had hit him. His arm was a swollen sausage flung across his chest. Sedric judged that he had tried to ward off a gallator attack and got the venom on his skin.

Carson gingerly grabbed the thwart and pulled the boat so it righted itself. “What a way to die,” he observed quietly.

As the boat rocked upright, Greft’s eyes slowly opened, seeming to fight an awful lethargy as he slowly turned his gaze on them. His face had puffed around his eyes, and he looked out at them from under a swollen brow.

Sedric stared in horror as Greft’s mouth moved. Words drawled out. “St-ole em frm er rm.” The hand at the end of the sausage arm moved in a slight flipping motion, as if it would gesture at something. “S’all…gon naw. Din’ mek no-awn rich.”

“It’s all right, Greft. It’s all right.” Sedric kept his eyes on Greft’s face.

“Greft. You want some water?” Carson had opened his waterskin. Spit had appeared alongside the two boats. Sedric didn’t know if the dragon was keeping watch for gallators or hoping to eat Greft’s body.

Greft seemed to consider Carson’s question for a long time. Then, “Yeah,” he managed. Carson leaned across from one boat to the other and directed a tiny stream of water toward Greft’s mouth. Greft sucked at the water; then as abruptly as a falling leaf, his head slumped slightly. His eyes didn’t close, but Carson abruptly stopped the flow of water, stoppered the skin, and carefully restored it to its place in the boat. “He’s dead. The venom causes paralysis. Took a while to stop his whole body, but it did. Horrible way to die.”

“Horrible,” Sedric agreed faintly.

“Well. Time to clean it up,” Carson said grimly.