I tracked it through the pale branches overhead, my sword raised despite my burning legs. My earlier vigor was thinning already. The burst I'd commanded from my body wasn't free, and every second of exertion was a withdrawal from an account running dangerously low.
It came again. Tongue and tail this time, staggered, one after the other so that dodging the first put me in the path of the second.
I parried the tongue with my blade and felt the impact rattle through my shoulder, then pivoted to catch the tail on the flat again, but this time the force was calculated. It didn't just hit. It coiled around my sword with terrifying dexterity and wrenched sideways.
The sword tore free from my grip.
It clattered across the pale roots and came to rest ten paces away. The Chameleon retracted its tail and stared at me from the canopy, its head tilted and those pale slit-eyes unblinking.
"I guess we'll find out," it said in my voice. But this time it didn't giggle.
