Damara found her way out of the caves, back through the rocky passage. She felt the air go from damp to brisk. The heavy dark brightened into a wintry glare and she emerged into the snowy daylight, blinking tears out of her eyes.
How long before Chasm comes and destroys everything? When will the new Strong Pack murder everyone- Tide, Rosefinch, even Clyde? Kara, Tyrone…Faren?!
God, not Faren…
The snow came in a flurry now. Damara couldn’t see beyond the length of her arm. She looked behind her. No one had followed her out.
What can I do? she cried inwardly. I’m just as helpless as everyone else.
She didn’t plan to run away. There was nowhere to go in this weather and she didn’t want to stray far from Faren. She’s with her family now, but…I still need to know that she’s safe.
At least, as safe as this world will allow, Damara added bitterly, scaling one of the frigid boulders above the tunnel entrance. She sat at the very top, arms around her knees, cloak around her back. From her heavy hood, she glowered at the snow invasion.
Heavily clothed people began appearing down below, obscured as they ducked under the boulder, herding little children in through the tunnel before them. If they noticed Damara perched like a gargoyle above, they paid her no mind.
The snow let up just as the cloudy sky began to dim and she reluctantly retreated to the caves, not wanting to lose her way in the dark. It took her a while to pick through the rocky passageway, repeatedly running into dead ends and tricky crevices.
Finally, she found her way into the cavern where the river ran through.
What?!
A stunning sight met her eyes. What seemed to be flying lanterns reached as high as the ceiling and as far as the distant walls. They flitted erratically about, clearly alive, whatever they were.
For a moment, her mind was distracted from its many worries.
One landed on Damara, causing her to nearly lose her footing on the rocky floor as she jumped, startled. It was a bat-like wyvern, a freakish spectacle clinging to her cloak. The creature stared up at her with glowing beady eyes, which matched its illuminated chest.
It looks so fragile. She studied the air-filled cavity of its breast, seeing how the parchment-thin membrane inflated and compressed when it breathed.
Would it bite me?
She didn’t try to touch it, hoping that it wouldn’t suddenly feel threatened and attack her. Eventually, the curious wyvern flew away to join the other lights of the cave.
Damara had to squint in the dark in order to see the rocky escalade leading up to the higher cavern, from which voices echoed. She shivered, wrapping her heavy, damp cloak around her shoulders. Could the refugees have fire down here?
In a tentative ascent, her feet tested the path, tapping each flat-topped rock.
Surely Faren is up here…
What will her parents think of me? Will they see me as a witch?
She gritted her teeth.
Let them think what they will.
Damara found that more glowing wyverns whisked about in the higher cavern, bathing the large hollow with dim light. Across the cave floor, a gentle yellow blaze flickered under the chimney shaft. Damara drew closer, hiding her face as she came upon dozens of refugees. Families crowded around small campfires, smoke escaping up into the great tunnel overhead.
A loud chorus of screes came shrilling from the depths of the cave and the refugees turned their heads and held their children close. The lit wyverns seemed excited by the sound, their flight growing frenzied.
Damara gasped as hundreds of small white bodies rushed through the caves.
Bats?! she gasped, pressing up against the cavern wall as the creatures winged past her. Children began to cry and men shouted in aggravation, but the creatures were gone as quickly as they had come, rising up into the chimney shaft and disappearing into the night.
In a massive, bright swarm, the glow wyverns funneled out in pursuit. Without their gleam, the slick cave walls took on the yellow light of the campfires.
Some refugees muttered irritably as others tried to calm the children. Damara wondered if they were familiar with what just happened.
Bats and bat wyverns at war, she reflected. Like humans and dragons.
Damara was relieved to see Faren with her family, staring up at the great disk of sky with a look of wonder on her face. Her brother stood with her, chattering something Damara couldn’t quite catch. Faren’s eyes widened in awe.
Probably telling her some other ridiculous myth, she thought disapprovingly. Isn’t that why she wanders off all the time? To look for things that aren’t real?
. . .
In the morning, Damara awoke to find that sunlight flooded the cavern once more. Cold and stiff, she gathered herself, standing up as Rosefinch flew past to ascend the chimney shaft.
What is she doing? Damara wondered, hugging her cloak tight around herself. Already, her body seemed to be adjusting to maneuvering the caves and she made her way back to the tunnel exit. A group of refugees was there, blocking her path as they picked through the narrow passageway. Following close behind, she eventually slipped out from under the jutting boulder, bracing herself against the frigid wind that met her face.
Her eyes searched the landscape for Rosefinch or the great hole in the ground. Instead, her heart leapt at the sight of Tyrone talking to someone.
It was Tide.
He’s alive!
She hurried to join them, overjoyed to see the teal dragon, untouched and healthy.
Tell me that Chasm is dead and the clutch is destroyed, she prayed, but as she approached she saw his expression and knew no such news would meet her ears.
“What happened?” she asked. Her breath was visible in the clear, crisp air.
Tyrone and Tide turned to her, their faces grim and worn.
“I searched the Golden Dragon’s old hideout but not a single tree was left standing after that mudslide,” Tide murmured, shaking his head. “I can’t think of any other tree the Golden Dragon would claim specifically as her own.”
What? But Iris said…
“Damara, can you think of anywhere else the clutch might be?” Tyrone inquired.
“No,” she moaned. “I heard Iris say she laid it by the duchess’ tree. I know I did! Could Chasm have moved it?”
Tide gave her a strange look. “A dragon would no doubt crush an egg trying to relocate it.”
Damara bit her lip. “Then what can we do? What if the clutch hatches before we can destroy it?”
“Destroy it?!” Tide’s eyes widened in horror.
Tyrone raised his eyebrows.
“Yes…” Damara said, confused. “Isn’t that-”
“Tide, you’re back!” Rosefinch exclaimed with glee, gliding down upon them. “Tell me you found the eggs!”
“They weren’t there,” Tide mumbled, ducking his head.
“Monigons and mock dragons!” Rosefinch cursed. “Where in the dirt did that reptile lay them? We need to go get them!”
“Get them?” Damara was bewildered. They aren’t going to destroy the clutch?!
Tyrone crossed his arms. “Yes. We have to bring the clutch here and keep it safe.”
“Keep it safe?” she sputtered. “It’s a nest full of vipers!”
Rosefinch laughed. “Vipers are snakes, Damara, not dragons.”
“She knows that,” Tyrone told the dragon, then turned to look at Damara. She could feel his eyes studying her as he said, “I think what she’s saying is that the clutch is dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” Rosefinch cocked her head. “What do you mean, Damara?”
Damara stared up at them, dumbfounded.
“I don’t understand,” she forced herself to speak calmly. “Why do you all want to keep Chasm and Iris’ offspring safe? Savagery will come as naturally to them as breathing. It’s in their blood.”
Tyrone shook his head. “We can’t be sure of that. We have to at least give them a chance.”
> Damara swallowed her words as she realized there was no persuading them otherwise.
Would they really bring the entire clutch here, to our only safe haven?
Don’t they see the risk in that?
Tide hung his head. “I should get back to searching,” he exhaled. “It might be somewhere else in dragon territory. The swamp, maybe…”
“Rest for the day,” Rosefinch insisted. “You can go back tomorrow. Don’t work yourself too hard like Tyrone does.”
Tyrone kept himself standing upright, but Damara could see the exhaustion weighing down on him like a heavy cloak. She half wondered if he ever slept at all.
Tide had a bashful expression when he looked at Rosefinch and she smiled, more politely than fondly, Damara thought. Then the female dragon tilted her head, listening.
What does she hear?
Rosefinch tensed.
Damara followed the dragon’s gaze down the immense hole in the ground. A commotion screeched from deep within.
She gasped, leaping back into Tide as a swarm of white bats and screaming glow wyverns shot out, filling the sky overhead.
Rosefinch, however, grinned sportingly.
“Come on, Tide!” She poised with wings unfolding.
Tide shook his head in embarrassment. “No…I’m sure you’d win.”
“It’d still be fun,” she pried.
Still, Tide was not persuaded.
“Fine,” Rosefinch consented. “You should probably get some rest anyway.” She took to the air, soaring for the bats and wyverns that pulsed as one chaotic mass above.
Damara watched as the dragon snapped and darted from side to side.
“What is she doing?” she asked.
“Hunting,” Tide replied warmly. “She challenges herself to only kill the bats, not wyverns.”
That must be difficult, Damara thought. She could barely see the dragon within the storm of battling creatures.
Soon, Rosefinch landed again. Eyes lively, she opened her jaws to let what seemed like a dozen dead bats fall at their feet.
Damara curled her lip back in disgust, stepping back. One slime covered bat slid off another, twitching slightly.
“Not a single wyvern!” Rosefinch stood proud. “These bats should make a fine meal for the refugees. Damara, you can take one, if you’d like.”
“Oh, no thanks,” Damara declined. Not even a dog could slobber that much!
A roar echoed up the chimney shaft and she whipped her head around to see Lynx ascend from the hole, faster than the eruption of a geyser. Spiraling around in the thick of the swarm, he unleashed a flurry of flames.
“Mindless monigon!” Rosefinch cursed as the burnt-black bodies of bats fell to the frosted fields and peppered the ground. The wyverns, however, appeared untouched, flying on as the flames glanced over them.
“Lynx!” Tyrone shouted as the marine green dragon spun about in a frenzy, orange flames clearing the air.
At last, the dragon appeared to be out of breath. He dove for the ground, crashing carelessly into the frost and dead bats.
“Lumpish scut,” Rosefinch growled.
Lynx grinned, heaving. “I beat you by a blaze,” he snickered, sweeping dead bats with his tail.
“You cheated,” she argued.
“More importantly,” Tyrone interjected, “you put us all at risk. Chasm could have seen you. Do you realize what trouble we’d be in if he were to find the refugee camp?”
Damara froze as she thought of something, horrified. “Chasm! He can find me just by my scent! What if I’m leading him to the refugee camp right now?!”
“Don’t worry about that,” Tide reassured her. “Chasm’s not going to find you here.”
“But that’s how he found me the first time,” Damara said. “He picked out my scent from the entire kingdom!”
“I’m sure he only told you that to intimidate you,” Tyrone replied. “If his sense of smell was that good, he’d have found us here a long time ago.”
“Lynx said he could smell me from far away when Tide brought me to your house,” she protested.
Lynx nodded, looking very pleased with himself.
“You were bleeding then,” said Tyrone. “Dragons are drawn to the scent of blood.”
“Yeah, and we can’t even tell from that distance whose blood it is,” Tide pitched in.
Then how did Chasm find me? Damara wondered, trying to remember the day she first met him outside her town. Did he actually come looking for me, or was it just by sheer coincidence that he found me?
“Damara, there really isn’t any need for you to worry,” Rosefinch told her, clearly reading the pained expression on her face.
“But I was never able to evade him before…”
Tyrone shook his head. “The way things are now, Chasm isn’t going to find us. That is, unless,” he gave Lynx a look, “we draw attention to ourselves.”
“Aw,” Lynx lulled, “that flameless cur couldn’t take us.” Straining his neck, he licked a scorched bat up off the ground and swallowed it whole.
“Chasm is clever,” Tyrone reasoned. “He could find a way to lead the King here. Chad sees all dragons as a threat, and you’d be no exception.”
Chad? Damara had never heard anyone refer to the King of Wystil so casually.
Lynx made a face. “I’m not afraid of some huffy king either! That man’s just as rump-fed as the rest of humanity.” He turned to devour a couple more bats.
Damara’s skin crawled. “Why are you even here?” she asked him.
Lynx paused with a bat on his tongue, eyes settling on her. Then, gulping down the morsel, he laughed. “I’m protecting your sorry, scaleless hides! With all you humans dead, who would be left to humor me?”
Damara seethed, clenching her fists.
“Do you ever wonder why nobody likes you?” Rosefinch hissed.
“Not at all,” he answered, rising to his feet and trotting away. He stopped not far from them and cocked his head at a bunch of dead bats. Dropping to the ground, he scooted himself along with jaws wide open.
“Stop eating those!” Rosefinch shouted. “The refugees need them.”
Lynx’s head shot up. “I killed these bats,” he yammered at her. “They’re mine.”
Rosefinch groaned, turning to face Tide. “Lynx is an idiot, Chasm is a murderer, and I’d hardly call Clyde ‘normal’,” she grumbled. “Are you and I the only sane dragons left?”
Tide simpered, avoiding her gaze as Damara had seen Catherine do countless times before around Xander.
‘The only sane dragons left?’ Rosefinch’s words cycled through Damara’s head.
Is she jesting? Damara studied her face. Could she be the last female dragon?!
“What is it?” Rosefinch was suddenly speaking to her.
“Oh.” She blinked. “Nothing.”
“Ah well, we better get these bats to the refugees before Lynx eats them all.”
Rosefinch and Tide began sweeping dead bats into a pile with their tails. Damara helped gather them, deep in thought.
Are the dragons going extinct?
How many have died from the firesap? Didn’t Clyde say it keeps the dragons’ eggs from hatching? That must be a lot of clutches lost. And how many dragons are dead because of Chasm or the Wystilian army? And who knows if the Colony even survived their migration…
Tide and Rosefinch, Lynx and Clyde…besides Chasm, they’re the only dragons I know to be alive!
Damara paused with a bushel of bats drooping in her arms, their fur coats once white, now charred completely black. Her mind returned to Iris’ clutch, wherever it was. Now she understood why Tyrone and the dragons were all so eager to find the eggs.
That clutch, Chasm’s offspring…they’re hope for dragonkind.
Chapter 25