Fifty-two
The talons tore into muscle on Keelin’s arm, and the pain was excruciating. But it was only pain, and she could use that.
She concentrated on the heat in her arm, and that reduced the hammering around her head, gave her clarity.
Her own hand ripped free from Enya’s stomach, and in a flash Keelin saw the wound was not as deep as she first thought. To a NeoGen, it was little more than a scratch.
Enya’s voice overflowed with hatred. Keelin glanced into her eyes, and there was no spark, no life. Only a black emptiness.
Enya attacked.
She came at Keelin like a dervish, twisting and spinning, arms and talons slicing this way and that. Sweat and blood flew from her body, a mist that helped mask her movements.
But Keelin knew them. Enya’s training had been the same as her own.
Ke
