Zamson remembered the race. The look on Naia's face. The shouting of his friends' voice. And Noctavion's wickedest ploy. The stinging pain of Noctavion's bone blade. The way his skin burned and flayed. The look on Naia's face as she was undoubtedly afraid. If not for his friends and the stranger's pull of the trigger, Zamson would have been slain.