Page 83 of Where Broken Wings Fly

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I croaked as Raegan and Tonn spun on me, “but I think I might have an idea.”

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My idea was stupid but it worked.

The two armies all gathered within the grass nearest to the walkway, while the marcaich gathered near the rocks closest. Just as the tide began to sink, the rocks that we would need to sprint across became more and more visible, my plan was enacted.

The black-panthers of the marcaich were dismounted and sent across the walkway, pausing at various intervals. And when Queen Tonn called forth a thick mist of sea cloud that engulfed the entirety of the walkway, the panthers resumed a normal, natural size.

Which meant that as the fog dissipated, and the tide dropped to the lowest it would become, the walkway had a dozen black-panthers spread across it.

Needless to say, the humans panicked. Some were so struck with fear that they simply sprinted into the water, refusing to dare the trek back across the walkway out of fear of the next panther along it. Within seconds the long spread of the path was empty, and one of the cats let out a quiet call that signalled the beginning of our movements.

Small groups at a time broke out into an all-out run, wasting no time as their small flecks of bodies moved across the path. Those with wings; the pegasus’ and the hoverflies and the birds, all took to the air with as many as they could carry on them, settling across the sea in Marazion just as the first group made it across.

It took two hours to get everyone across, and it was right about that time that some wildlife officer rolled up with half of a plan to get the panthers to ‘safety’, whatever that meant. Which, for us, signalled the next wave of dense sea fog, and the disappearance of the cats to a size meant for pixies.

By the time everyone was across the walkway, no one was ready for the next, and longest, part of the journey. So we moved off of the roadway, collecting as a large unit within the longest blades of grass, and allowed our bodies the chance to rest.

That was when King Nevan and his host arrived. They floated down from the heavens as if they lived there — which in a way, they did — and settled amongst our ranks like they had been there the whole time. They sat with the others, picking at various items meant for lunch, and shared a laugh with the pixies of the other kingdoms.

Their mounts, mostly birds and the odd insect, all nestled themselves into the cool blanket of grass and set their sights on a long snooze before they would be needed again. As did our own animals, save for Urram and Gliocas that never left our sides.

“Isn’t that strange for you all?” I asked Niamh and Shea, who were sitting cross-legged behind me. Niamh had a large fruit in her hands, the skin all chewed to shreds and the juice within looking a little less fresh than I would have hoped. Shea had an entire backpack filled with just apples. She was on her third one by the time I joined them.

“Isn’t what strange?” Shea asked, her mouth occupied with half of an apple that she devoured within seconds. I couldn’t help but frown at her strange obsession with the fruit.

“Three kingdoms existing side-by-side and yet the world has not cracked open and killed us all.”

They both rolled their eyes at me as they looked out at the sight. Pixies of the woods, the seas, and the skies all in one gathering for a reason not involving drink and dance, but a common cause. It was hard, seeing that, to not feel an ounce of understanding for the Rachainn, for what they had wished of Saoghal when they were still a part of it.

As if Urram knew what I was thinking, he pinched at my earlobe and earned a swat in his direction which he ducked under.

“Look, Olivia, it’s not like we —”

Niamh was cut off by the shrill call of another horn and the appearance of rows upon rows of bodies that sank into the horizon before us.

There was no doubt who rode towards us. The sun haloed each of them as if it was their personal weapon that they tucked behind them. Hair of gold and the faintest green, pinks and purples and reds of flowers, light brown of the dirt beneath us.

Cluaineach had arrived.

Diarmuid pulled his snickering fox to a stop just before Raegan and Killian, sliding down from its side and beginning a conversation with the two of them that I couldn’t hear. Which would have bothered me, if I hadn’t seen Rory and Aisling emerge seconds later, looking as out of place in a meadow as possible for two pixies born to it.

“Rory! Aisling!”

Their heads whipped in my direction and that look of confusion evaporated and made way for joy, instead.

When they finally arrived at our sides, they offered small smiles to Shea and Niamh before turning to me. “I didn’t think we’d see you here.”

“Me neither,” I admitted just as I tried to readjust Urram on my shoulder. He squealed and made to pinch my finger, instead.

I caught Niamh glancing at Rory, her face flushing with a rosy-hue as he noticed her and smiled.

“Go on, Olivia. Tell them what you were just telling us,” Shea growled, earning her a flipped brow.

“What?” Aisling asked, looking between the two of us with a shred of concern.