They knew each other's styles well. Al was patient, more patient than Ed, who could stalk a single prey for hours through the woods just for the sheer determination of taking it down. He wasn't going to circle for hours today. But he would look at the perched Lion as if soaking in the sight of him, poised for Edmund to come to him. And he would let Edmund come to him, and Edmund could never help himself when it came to Al.

He came, springing from coiled back legs, up and over to try to land on Al's back. His body flew like the shadow of an air through the air, supple and dark and graceful. He would land, as ever, on his feet, but whether he landed on Al or not was in question.

Given their record, the odds were low, but there was always a chance.