Marc chuckled, but most of the birds only looked confused.

“If someone surrenders to you, knock him unconscious, but let him or her live,” I insisted. We’d discovered that during large-scale fighting it was easier to knock out surrendering enemies, rather than risk tying them up, which could lead to escape, betrayal, or both. We’d sort the bodies—both living and dead—after the action was over. “Everyone understand?”

“Why not simply kill them all?” a familiar voice asked, and when I glanced to my left for the source, I came eye to eye with Neve, the she-bird my father had shot during the onslaught against our Pride. She’d obviously fully recovered.

“For the same reason we didn’t kill you when we could have. Or Kai. We’re interested in winning—in removing Malone from power and dealing out justice. But we’re not in this for the slaughter.” At least, not once Malone’s blood was soaking into the ground and Colin Dean’s innards had been exposed to the rest of the world.

“Then you’re fools.” The old woman watched me in blatant disgust now. “You suffer abuse from a rival, yet you would cut that rival’s head off but let its body live. Your rival will grow a new head and rise again, and again you will make a pitiful effort to stop it, but never truly eliminate it. Mercy is a weakness, child. It is a trait of your human half, and you indulge it like a spoiled child. Just as the wolves did. I assume you know what happened to the wolves.”

Um, yeah. “Extinction. But they were killed by human hunters.”

“Yes, and by the bruins, and by us, and by some of your own ancestors, no doubt. Because the wolves bred weakness as if it were a virtue. If one group had risen to control the rest—or eliminate them—they wouldn’t have made such easy prey.”

“Malone’s allies comprise fully half of the Pride cat population. And you seriously think we should just…kill them all?” I could barely even conceive of such large-scale death, and so much of it pointless! “I don’t know about you guys, but our numbers aren’t exactly swelling. We’re doing well to maintain our current population, and killing off half of us is not going to help that.”

The crone shook her head, as if she pitied my ignorance. “But those who remain will be stronger, and the next generation will be stronger still, from having cleansed the gene pool.” She did not just say that. I glanced at Marc to see him scowling.

“Is that what happened to you guys? Until last week, our most recent thunderbird sighting was more than fifteen years ago. We assumed that was because you keep to yourselves, but maybe that’s not it. Maybe you’ve scrubbed your own gene pool so vigorously there’s little of it left. Maybe you’ll be next to follow the wolves.”

For a moment, the crone looked like she’d either burst into feathers or flames, and my heart pounded so hard the front of my shirt jiggled. Had I just insulted the entire thunderbird way of life, surrounded by several dozen of their best specimens?

But then the old lady burst into harsh, cackling, dual-toned laughter, black eyes shining. “You are soft with foolish, sentimental ideologies, but that comes with youth. You will grow harder and smarter, if you are not ground beneath your enemy’s boot. But if your people fight half as fiercely as you speak, your species might yet have a shot at survival.”

I exhaled heavily and felt both Jace and Marc relax on either side of me. Thank goodness my youth and foolish idealism amused her. They just pissed most people off.

“Let’s wrap this up,” Marc suggested softly, and I could not have agreed more.

“Okay, so that’s basically it. Only kill the enemy, and only if he doesn’t surrender. And no eating the casualties. We’ll let you know when we’re ready to go. It won’t be long, but you have to wait for word from us.”

Speaking of which…

While the birds protested the rules with reactions ranging from strong frowns to angry clucking, I dug my cell from my pocket and held it up. “Does anyone here know how to work a cell phone?” Or even what one is…?

Beck stepped out of the crowd, and I recognized him from the assault on our ranch as the bird who’d come to help Neve after she was shot. “I spoke on your father’s phone. Is yours like his?”

“Yeah.” Fortunately, I hadn’t yet upgraded to a smart-phone, and with fewer options on the device, there were fewer ways for the thunderbirds to mess this up. “Okay, I’m going to leave my phone here with you guys, and we’ll call you when we have a concrete plan.”

“Faythe, you can’t leave your phone here,” Marc said, angling me away from the crowd.

Jace nodded before I could reply. “It isn’t safe for any of us to be out of communication right now.”

I rolled my eyes at them both, already digging in my other pocket. “Relax.” I held up my father’s phone, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I felt guilty for claiming it—like I was taking another right I hadn’t earned—but we couldn’t afford the time for another flight to New Mexico just to tell the birds we were ready for them.

Jace grinned. “Good thinkin’.”

Even Marc looked impressed. Mostly. “What about the charger?”

I smiled and pulled it from my jacket pocket, unreasonably pleased with myself for having thought that far ahead. Fortunately, generators—and thus outlets—were among the few modern conveniences the birds used, mostly to provide light and heat.