Jac had to admit that in a strange, patchwork way, the beast was kinda cute. From a certain angle, when it was swaddled in its blanket on Belle’s lap, jiggling along with the sway of the carriage, it could almost pass for a bear cub or a baby panther—even its eyes were a brilliant yellow-green, despite the daytime. But then it would crack open its face to reveal inch-and-a-half long fangs, or it would let out a bone-chilling shriek, just to remind you it was, in fact, a tiny little terror.

Until it grabbed one of its back paws in its mismatched front paws and stuffed its toes into its mouth to chew happily. Those paws, Jac noted, were quite large. Nearly as large as its enormous head. A clear indication that this cuddly little creature would not stay little nor cuddly for long.

Belle had named it Kitten.

“Belle,” Jac said gently, but firmly. “We need to take it out of town and let it free.”

The stream of monstrous nonsense Belle had been spouting ever since they’d left the coop ceased. She pulled her pink lips into her teeth for a moment before letting them pop out. “He’s alone.”

“You know he can’t follow us to Broken Earth.”

Z argued, “We’ve got a whole trip to Luvatha before we have to—”

Jac silenced Z with a look. “He needs to be free, not living hidden inside a city,” she reminded Belle. “And the longer, the closer you keep him, the more it’ll hurt when you have to peel him from your side.”

As Belle scratched behind the beast’s one fuzzy ear, her chin puckered. Next to her, Z rested an arm across her shoulders. After a few moments, Belle spoke quietly, “I think his mother must have rejected him. His pattern, his eyes—I think he’s mixed between nightbeast and daybeast. He may not be able to find a pack, or get back to his own. He’s exactly the type the Great Cassiix Circus would take in—a little of everything, but not fully anything. A mismatched beast with a mismatched coat. If … if I just dump him somewhere…”

“Then he’ll have a chance,” Jac said, leaning forward to boop the little beast’s nose, only to have it snap its jaws at her finger before returning to munching on its own toes. “The little shit got inside a busy mail coop in the middle of the day—just that act names him Determined and Resourceful.”

It got a tiny smile out of Belle, though that didn’t live long. “If his mother already abandoned him, how can I? He’ll think he’s unlovable.”

“No. He’ll remember the nice lady who rescued him from the mean birds and then set him free,” Jac corrected. “What’s the alternative, Belle? You can’t raise this thing in Broken Earth.”

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Her chin puckered again, and her lip trembled. The monster choked loudly on one of his own toenails. Shakily, “He could live in the graveyard with Julius and Tater and the others.”

“They’re full grown, Belle,” Jac said. “He’s a baby. He’ll get out of the graveyard just like he got into that coop.”

Belle turned big, pleading, shiny eyes to Z.

To his credit, Z did seem to be wracking his brain for a solution. Finally, he said, “There’s a place or two in Broken Earth’s outer circles that keep monsters. I’ve got the coin to keep him cared for there, but—it would be life in a cage.”

“Places that keep monsters in Broken Earth…” Belle said. “You don’t mean for the Arena? For the Games?”

“The Arena isn’t the only home for monster fights in Broken Earth, Nyx. But with enough coin, I could keep him out of the fights.”

“Mother Dark…” Belle whispered. “No … no, I won’t cage him.”

“He’ll be alright, Belle,” Jac said. “Free, like he should be.”

Belle gave her those big, teary eyes. Jac hated having to be the one to do this to her, but a bit of pain now would prevent a hell of a lot more later on. Belle did a short, jerking nod, and Jac relaxed a bit. Some part of Belle must not be eager to relive the Clarix experience any more than Jac was eager to watch her relive it.

Still teary, Belle talked to Kitten while Z made one more stop to buy some extra supplies for their journey, and after a while Kitten started to respond. Jac didn’t think he was actually saying anything with his conversational rahr-wahr-rahr-ing, just piping up the way dogs and cats did when their owners talked to them, but it sure did sound like they were having a full-on conversation. And what the hell did Jac know, maybe they were.

Z picked up an extra, fresh turkey leg for Kitten—or perhaps it had been for Z, but once the little monster had launched itself at Z and clamped his jaws on the turkey leg, the rest of his patchwork body dangling until the meat slipped from the bone and he fell to the carriage floor with a flump, Z at least claimed he’d intended it for Kitten all along—and then they were off to Luvatha.

Belle got quieter and quieter as they neared the city walls. Kitten, who had picked the turkey leg clean, now wrestled with the bone on the floor, repeatedly smacking it against each of their legs and hissing when the bone presumably returned fire.

Then, all at once, the bone clattered to the floor and Kitten was asleep, legs splayed, fuzzy/scaly belly and little penis on full display.

“Mother Light,” Jac mumbled, and Belle snorted.

Belle leaned forward and lifted the beast’s limp body into her lap. He didn’t so much as flutter his eyelids.

Once they were a good distance from Ace, Z rapped on the little door on the wall between them and the driver. The carriage slowed to a halt and Belle, crying silently, gathered up the little beast and headed for the carriage door. Z immediately moved to exit first and help her down, but Belle waved him off.

“You want company?” Jac asked, but Belle just shook her head.

Several minutes later, they heard Belle return and retrieve something from the back of the carriage where their bags were, and when she climbed back inside, she was wrapped protectively in her cloak, swiping her face with a handkerchief. She settled onto the seat next to Jac this time and flopped against her.