The others have all but disappeared around another trunk by the time I trust myself to take my full weight. Even so, my back muscles refuse to loosen, aching like I’ve been beaten with a stick.
Fists bunched, I charge forward, cracking my neck from side to side. I move around the tree, almost smashing into Pyrok, who has paused, head tipped, gaze pinned skyward.
I frown, following his line of sight. Latch on to the faintest hint of a silky tail—minusits usual luminosity—dashing behind a foliage-laden branch.
My heart drops.
Líri …
Shit.
Dropping my internal walls, I open to her emotions, bombarded by an icy flood of concern that nearly knocks the breath from my lungs.
I sigh, certain I’m destined to be surrounded by folk and beings who care too much.
Who care themselvesinto danger.
I glance at Pyrok, his mud-crusted brows almost raised into his flaming hairline. A silentwhat’re you gonna do about that?written all over his face.
Nothing.
There’s literallynothingI can do. Not a Creators-damn hope she’s going to turn back to the mountains with all those boisterous emotions churning in her chest.
I give him a nudge to urge him on, deciding it’s best to pretend Líri’s not there and hope for the best.
She’s quiet. Somewhat camouflaged. So long as she stays amongst the canopy and doesn’t do anything to lure the Moltenmaws pounding the air above, everything should be okay. And if anything goes ass-up … well.
She seems to have an appetite for masticating my problems.
Kaan looks over his shoulder, scanning the rest of us clustered behind a massive tawny rock, ankle-deep in steaming, smelly mud.
He puts his finger to his lips, then gestures toward a gangly tree notthirty paces away, its base cushioned by mossy ground that appears at least sturdy enough not to swallow us.
Crouched forward, he creeps past a patch of spindly shrubs on his left, each step achingly slow. Ensuring his boots don’t make that squelching sound we could afford a little deeper in the forest.
Not here, right on the fringe of the nesting grounds, where the canopy is so thin it’s barely present. Where one too-swift move could draw an unwanted gaze and cause us to get torched by a blow of dragonflame.
Roan follows, then Pyrok—moving slower than a glug of hardening magma. I trail, pausing to tuck back the edge of my hood and peek through the shrubs, seeing the world beyond hasopened. Dense forest giving way to a vast stretch of bubbling, muddy marshland that’s belching steam and sulfur.
I scan the mossy mounds poking above the surface as far as the eye can see—some bigger than others. They double as perches, each pocked with a scatter of spherical nests that remind me of moons.
Shaped from sticks, trees, and vines, each nest bears a single opening. Gaping holes big enough for a dragon to shuffle through, spin around, and tuck upon their eggs within, the bog alive with so many vibrant Moltenmaws tearing about, screeching. Some have limp prey dangling from their claws, others carry sticks or entire trees they’ve ripped from the ground, roots and all. Nest-building materials destined to be snapped, tucked, and shoved until they’re in the perfect place.
Looking to the sky, I fail to see the aurora past the heavy cloud coverage, though I gather it’s late, based on the ruckus. That, and the fact that most nests appear to have both a dam and a buck present, the second parent perched on the mound or doing tight circles overhead. Guarding it.
Guess we’re not collecting the moonshard until the aurora rises.
I push forward another step when a slit of pain drags up my shin, gouging marrow.
My knees buckle into the mud, hands punching wrist-deep, breath caught behind clenched teeth as I scour Kaan’s retreating form. Silently begging he doesn’t choose right now to do another random shoulder check.
Tense moments tick by while I battle through the torture, silently cursing Sereme’s name. Her date of birth.
The fucking color she loves so much.
I’m wrestling a full-body tremble by the time it finally subsides, nipping a glance at Líri peeping down at me from where she’s draped along a thick branch overhead. Though she makes no sound, I feel her concern whining through me like a bow dragging across my frayed heartstrings.
I ply her with all the smooth, sturdy emotions I can muster, repressing the inferno of icy rage now simmering at the base of my throat. The last thing I want is for her to disappear on a revenge streak without me.
