Azmond opened his eyes as the light of the morning sun struggled to peak through the fog. He missed it sometimes, but now he had plenty of friends! Azmond thinks that not seeing the sun is worth it for that. He didn’t get much sleep, but that’s okay. He still wasn’t sure why everyone else needed so much sleep anyways. It’s always been like that. Except maybe he didn’t like sleep as much now, ever since the ship. He didn’t like remembering the ship. Not just because he couldn’t see the sun or stars, or the close quarters, or the stuffiness, or Wollow leaving, or all the other stuff. But the monster that tore through the people Azmond met, tearing and killing them like they were insects… Sometimes, Azmond was scared to close his eyes, least he opens them to find the great beast on the horizon staring back at him.

He felt comfortable here, with the big men and women with their big voices and big meals. When he and Rael moved from the cool nest house down to the hotter longhouse-turned-longboat, Azmond was a bit scared. He didn’t want to be on another boat. But Rael wasn’t scared. They were never scared. They helped him on the boat and ran with him as he tried to rock the boat by running from port to starboard and starboard to port. They helped him pick out a room where they would hang their hammocks together. He got the top hammock!

Azmond looked over his hammock to watch as Rael began to wake up. It was a lot better to watch Rael wake up after a long day instead of watching over them as they struggled to stay awake. Sometimes, Azmond would pretend to be asleep as Rael would come back from a long day working at the forge or from a late-night practice with Derrol. They would look over him, caressing Azmond’s horns and face as he pretended to sleep. They’d hum contently and settle gently in the hammock below. Rael would whisper things before their breath would slow as they fall asleep. When they slumbered, Azmond would look over them, just to be sure. When he saw the bruises Rael came back with, he was worried. But when he pointed it out in the morning, Rael laughed and said that he’d be counting less of them in the future. They promised. And like every promise Rael made, it came to pass. Now, Rael had only a few bruises at a time as their body began to fill out once more. No longer was Rael the tall, skinny grump Azmond first saw at the back of the cargo hold, nor the emaciated and sick form they’d had by the time Derrol and his crew rescued them. Azmond wondered where they were last night; all the other adults were celebrating getting the longhouse into the water. When Rael came back, they walked as if in a daze. And instead of doing what as they usually did, Rael just patted his head, chuckled, and flopped into their hammock.

How strange!

So when Rael got out of their hammock to enter the longship’s main room for breakfast, Azmond followed. Most of the others on the boat were already awake, sharpening weapons or helping make breakfast. Rael nodded to most people, and Azmond, despite already knowing all their names, mimicked Rael. When Rael grabbed a single piece of coontie sofkee with squash spread, Azmond did the same. They both sat down at the table, their wooden plates side by side. Rael raised an eyebrow and pointed at Azmond’s meal.

“Don’t you usually eat more?”

“Yea.” Azmond stuffed the entire breakfast in his mouth.

“You should eat more than that. You’re still growing.” Rael chided.

“Pot, meet kettle.” Smith Sherra said as she sat down next to Rael. In one arm, she nursed Hiram, and in the other she had a massive plate of food. Capricorn liver sausages, boar flank, sofkee with jam, simmered apple and nuts, bowls of grain meals, and a few glasses of honied milk. Gault sat by Azmond with a similar plate. “The next few days are going to be intense for everybody, so its best we eat up.”

“Which means the both of you have to eat a lot.” Gault began piling some of the food from his plate onto Azmond’s. “Everybody will be expected to work, either through spell or body. Are you okay with helping some people move supplies to the boats, little Dragon?”

“Of course Az can!” Rael glared at Gault. Rael seemed to do that a lot when people called Azmond ‘little Dragon’. Sherra took advantage of the distraction to shovel some food on Rael’s plate. When Rael turned around, they rolled their eyes and huffed, but ate anyways. “Az is strong enough to help us out.”

“We didn’t see much of you last night.” Gault said as he watched the two youths shovel food in their mouths. “Were my ballads that bad?”

“Having second thoughts about staying?” Sherra ribbed.

“I needed to check something out.” Rael pursed their lips as they began pushing their food around in the plate with a porridge spoon. “I…realize I can’t do things alone. But when I tried to learn more it just seems messy.”

“Politics.” Gault nodded.

“Seems like someone went to eavesdrop on the Jarl.” Sherra sniggered. Rael spun around, mouth agape. “Don’t look so surprised. A lot of young people try to sneak in to listen to meetings between the Jarl and his captains. Every now and then, some kid listens into some heavy topics and has to deal with the revelations. Especially with Feldon.”

“And listening into the first war meeting in centuries must have been a bit much.” Gault added as he snuck in a few more slices of boar flank on Azmond’s empty plate.

“’A bit much’ is an understatement.” Rael noted quietly. Sherra clapped Rael’s back.

“Enough about whatever schemes the council may be up to! Have you been thinking about how to better use your spell?”

Azmond perked up. He loved watching Rael’s magic. Every now and then, Rael would cast their to practice. Every time, it would turn into a performance for Azmond as they played charades or told stories using [Minor Light] to create shadow puppets on the wall or [Shape Water] to form characters and places. Sometimes, he’d wonder what Wollow could have showed him if they weren’t in chains. In the month before they’d met Rael on the boat, Wollow would talk a lot, comforting and helping Azmond through the harder times as they were brought to Nize in a cramped carriage. Azmond understood very little of what Wollow said, but he remembered it all. And every now and then, Azmond would see something and what Wollow said would click into place. Which is why he tried so hard to smell, hear, or even taste magic. It hadn’t worked so far, only getting a mouthful of water when he tried.

“Unless I find a book or somebody to teach me alchemy, I’m not going to make any real headway.” Rael noted as they glumly chewed a stubborn piece of sofkee.

“I’d recommend asking Bak, but his alchemy is awful. I asked for something for my headache, and he gave me alcohol.” Sherra said as Gault held up a hand.

“You forgot to mention it was a hangover and you kept pestering him for a cure.” He turned back to Rael. “But Bak has mentioned alchemy isn’t his strong suit. He’s more of a spellcasting and community shaman. If you want to get someone skilled in alchemy, you should try and find a crew that will accompany the Jarl to the Althing; the Stone Circle is bound to have a few alchemists among the shamans living there.”

“Never mind that!” Sherra cocked her head as she burped Hiram. “You’re trying to rush into the complicated stuff. A good spell is both complicated and simple. If you can’t get the simple part down, there’s no point to doing the complicated. I want you to think on how mixing or combining something could benefit you outside of smithing.” Gault opened his mouth to say something, but Sherra stopped patting Hiram’s back to point at her husband. “Or alchemy! I mean outside of the crafts.”

“Wollow said that understanding something better leads to using it better.” Azmond said, happy to have something relevant to the conversation.

“See!” Sherra slammed a hand on the table. “The kid gets it.”

Just as she was going to continue her rant, there was a knock at the door of the longboat. Gault’s cousin, Kerrik, opened the door and hit his chest twice with his fist.

“Captain. Are you here to see me?”

“Kerrick. No, begin packing your things. We’re sailing off in two days for the Althing.” A familiar voice answered. Ulric. “We just need to grab the Dragonward for ceremonial preparations.”

The ambient noise within the longboat faded to whispers as the word was repeated throughout. Over two dozen faces turned to look at Rael in awe. Azmond smiled at seeing all the people finally noticing Rael. It’s about time other people saw how amazing Rael was! When he turned to look at Rael, though, they were shrinking back under the stares. He reached to pull at their shirt.

“Rael?”

“You were named?” Sherra whispered. “Congrats!”

“Rael?”

“It’s a great honor, only given thrice in our history.” Gault whispered. Rael was unmoving, staring rigidly forwards.

“Rael?” Azmond pulled at their shirt again, harder this time.

“Y-Yeah. I gotta go, Az.” Rael got up and started walking to the door, the heads turning to follow.

“Can I come?”

Rael didn’t answer, facing the captain and motioning towards him.

“Will it be dangerous?”

“Ach, naw.” Kip answered with a guffaw.

“Great.” Rael turned around and extended a hand to the Child of Dragons. “Come on, Az. Maybe I can show you Henry.”

Rael and Azmond joined Derrol on his dugout canoe as Ulric and Kip shared another. They sat down in the canoes as the pullies lowered them down into the water, the fog clearing somewhat so close to the warm water. The sounds of the village faded away as they paddled away from the Grand Mangrove, replaced by the muted sounds of birds, insects, and water lapping against the boats. As it turns out, they did spot Henry, the alligator swimming lazily besides them. Azmond was staring very pointedly at the alligator, his fingers tracing the scales dappled on his cheeks and neck.

“Where are we headed?” Rael struck an oar deep into the water and pushed. The three captains looked at one another. Kip shrugged and Ulric stared pointedly at Derrol.

“We’re mostly flying by the seat of our chaps.” Derrol admitted. “There’s no real tradition for getting a Dragonward ready for an Althing. We’re just bringing you along with us because Feldon told us to help you prepare for the Althing as we would a fellow captain.”

“Aye.” Ulric nodded. “Most things we need have to do with getting Kip here,” Ulric threw his head behind him to motion to the young captain, “ready for his duties.”

“Ugh, tradition.” Rael rolled their eyes.

“Preach it.” Kip muttered.

“Young blood always says the same with tradition.” Ulric chuckled. They all paused as they steered around a swamp boar, chuffing as it swam.

“You were young blood not ten years ago, Ulric.” The oldest captain scoffed. “And while some traditions are a bit dumb, we must remember our roots. Tradition is one of the last things we have left of the Dragons, after all.” Derrol pointed towards a grove of trees that caused the hair on the back of Az’s neck to stand on end. Their branches, their roots, all were arranged identically. As they approached, the grove was revealed to be in a perfect circle. “There is a reason in tradition. A story, a lesson learned, often harshly. That is why we know to avoid fae groves like that one. When nature gives us a perfect circle, it isn’t nature.”

Rael and Azmond perked up as they passed the group of trees. They weren’t too close together, but they couldn’t seem to peer too far past the trees themselves. Rael blinked a few times when a mote of light danced behind a branch and disappeared.

“I think I saw something.” Rael said, pointing.

“Then there’s a fae that’s interested in you. Don’t pay them any attention; so long as you do, they will forget about you. That is the best option.” Ulric averted his eyes.

“Don’t wanna end up like Grom, who came back with ass ears.” Kip hissed, paddling away faster. “Or like Hilda, who drowned in the gold they gave her.”

“Did that really happen?” Azmond was still focused on the glade as it faded into the fog behind them.

“Aye.” Derrol whispered as he leaned over his shoulder. “Every now and then, we hear tale on the grapevine of some new fool. But remember, young one. Fae are not evil, nor are they good. They do not understand the world as we do, or perhaps we do not understand the world as they do. Every now and then, someone will meet with the fae and return to us. Maybe they return with a curse. Maybe a blessing. Very rarely a blessing.”

“What if a fae comes to us?” Rael asked. The glade had disappeared into the fog, but Rael was more focused on Henry, who gave the glade an even wider berth than they did. “Are the rules any different here than they are in the south?”

“Act polite and respectful.” Ulric began counting on his fingers. “Follow the laws of hospitality. Never give them your name. Anything they give you has a price. And never, ever use expressions or anything less than literal.”

“A bit different from the one’s I’ve heard. Aren’t the first two the same?” Rael asked.

“Naw.” Kip pulled his canoe forward so he could speak to Rael face-to-face. “The laws of hospitality work both ways. If a fae violates them, ya can call ‘em out on it. That’s how one of the early High Jarls negotiated a blessing for the Faulk. Now we can’t get lost in the swamps.”

“So long as we leave the fae alone in the lands up north, and not destroy the glades we find.” Derrol clarified, looking ahead to a series of willow trees surrounding a clearing where there was barely any fog hiding the sky above. Azmond hummed contentedly as he felt the warmth on his skin. Within the clearing, long, artificial islands held together by walls of woven reed. Each island had plants in various stages of growth. Squash, rice, berries, and even a few apple saplings.

As a chinampa farmer in his own dugout canoe approached, Henry gave out a dissatisfied groan and swam away. The farmer waved them over as he glared at the alligator.

“Howdy folks!” He dusted his hands on his kilt. “Y’here for—Well if it ain’t Kip! Well done on the last raid, so glad my investment paid off.”

“Cousin Paf.” Kip nodded. “I trust th’ iron worked well?”

“You betcha!” Paf guffawed hard enough to wobble his canoe. “The axes helped me and the fam clear some more space for the chinampa. But I guess yer not here for food or pleasantries.”

“Sorry cuz.” Kip shrugged. “M’first Althing. Which means—”

“Right, right! Y’all are going to need some skins for those awful instruments!” Paf crouched and swerved his canoe in one swift movement. “Follow me.”

“Skins?” Rael pointedly behind them to stare at Derrol.

The grizzled man just smiled and began turning the boat to follow Paf. They reached a submerged reed fence that took up most of the clearing. There were things moving about inside, just where the murkiness of the water would fade the colors to a dull teal. Paf put down his oar and summoned his Tome-warrior, the Tome barely rocking the boat as it appeared. Together, they jumped over the fence and into the water in a synchronized dive. They swam into the dark depths and began wrestling one of the shapes underwater, until the managed to pull it to the surface.

“Goat?!” Azmond exclaimed.

Indeed, it seemed like Paf had dragged a big goat from underwater. It flailed about and screamed like a man would, its horizontal pupils shrinking into slits.

“Not quite, little ‘un.” Paf struggled to keep his breath as pulled a rope from somewhere within his submerged kilt and tied it around the neck of the creature. Then he tied the rope to some mooring on his canoe. “[Greater Reduced Movement].” His canoe stopped swaying and he hurled the beast onto the static platform. It wiggled around, flopping its silvery fish tail, but its four goat legs were tied together. “This here is an ol’ billy capricorn. Gimme a second, I’ll bring up three more. Y’all are gonna need them if ya each want a set o’ bagpipes.”

“No need.” Ulric shook his head. “Still have mine from a decade ago. I actually like playing it. And Derrol is almost a regular at the Althing, so he should still have his.” Ulric cocked his head towards Rael. “I don’t think you have the right spell for it, let alone know how to play it.”

Rael’s eyes glazed over as they reminisced about a bard that came into Tulip’s Hold when they were young, bragging about being able to play a ‘sacred Faulk instrument’. Five minutes after he began playing the squeaking horror out of tune that he was run out of town.

“Yeah, no. I don’t want one.” Paf shrugged at Rael’s curt response.

So it was that after the old fish-goat was properly secured, the two canoes left the clearing of chinampas. They went back the way they came, with the fat alligator joining them when they were far enough away from the chinampas. Henry kept a hungry eye on the capricorn, which was frozen in fear. Soon, they passed where the fae glade used to be. All that was in its place was a crooked old tree. The group passed the tree in silence, only feeling comfortable enough to let the paddles hit the water louder once it had disappeared in the mist.

“What else should I be prepared for?” Rael finally said, voice cutting through the tense fog like a knife. “As Dragonward.”

Azmond looked around, still not sure what the word meant. He could tell Rael didn’t know either. The three Faulk looked at each other with complicated expressions.

“It’s a bit hard to properly explain.” Derrol said. “As we said earlier, we’re mostly flying by the seat of our pants. In all the tales, there have only been three given the name ‘Dragonward’. One was already a Jarl, another a captain, and the last was given after their death. It’s a name that holds more weight than that of a Jarl or captain but has no real power.”

“It’s ceremonial.” Rael grunted. “I’ve been made some sort of figurehead.”

They paddled some more in silence, the noon light suffusing through the fog in an omnipresent glare. A frog with the heart of a Faulk warrior swam onto Henry’s back and settled down to rest, ignoring the mosquitoes and dragonflies buzzing overhead.

“It’s only ceremonial because there is no merit to the name attached to it.” Kip finally said. The other two glared at him when he spoke. Rael themselves was in part angry and curious. Seeing this, Kip continued. “Y’all are being too soft on them. Rael needs to know.” He slowed the canoe so that the two young adults could speak closer. “In Faulk, everybody is supposed to be born in the same position. As a citizen. Sure, you can be a craftsman, or a herder like my cousin, but those are still citizen jobs. If you want to move up, you gotta prove yourself. Either to a shaman or to a captain so you can train and work under them. Prove yourself enough, and you can be named Captain or Shaman. Gain enough merit as either and you can become Jarl of your own town.”

“What does this have to do with being Dragonward?” Rael was beginning to connect the dots as to how Faulk society worked.

“Typically,” Ulric said, “Dragonward is given to those who raise a Child of Dragons. Both times it was given to a living person, they already had authority. It just served to raise the value of their merits, because it could be argued that whatever they did was to benefit the Child of Dragons.” Rael’s face began to set in a firm scowl, but they calmed their features. “Which is why you should be thankful to Feldon. He could have claimed the title himself after sending you off, or worse. It would have probably guaranteed him a spot as a High Jarl candidate. By giving it to you, he’s protected you. Even as a ceremonial name, it would bring honor to any who host you in their homes, as you have brought to Kerrick. Or great dishonor to any who seek to harm you.”

“’S basically heavy plate armor.” Kip continued. “Good protection, but if you’re not strong enough it could wear you down or even drown you.”

“I see.” Rael narrowed their eyes and kept them forwards. “How do I prove myself? If I make good enough weapons at the forge, can I be recognized?”

“Maybe if you kept at it for the next ten years.” Kip scoffed. “You’re good, but not legendary. If the people who use your weapons gain enough merit, you will gain recognition. Which is why a lot of smiths are so damn choosy with who gets their best weapons.” Kip spat into the water. The frog chilling on Henry’s head opened its eyes, croaked, and hopped onto Kip’s canoe, then Rael’s, and then into the water once more. Henry turned to swim under the boats, following it. “No, you have to go ‘bout it the Faulk way. Fighting, sailing, and jus’ bein’ an all ‘round badass. That’s how I was named Captain.”

“Don’t listen to the hotblooded youth who hasn’t yet grown a full beard.” Ulric said as the youth grumbled and scratched at his sparse beard, something between peach fuzz and five o’clock shadow. “What you need is an insignia, a band to put the insignia on, some time, and maybe your own ship. Learn to run before you fly.”

“A ship?” Derrol rose an eyebrow. “That’s a bit much, don’t you think? Where’s Rael going to find a crew?”

As Derrol and Ulric began to bicker, the two canoes drifted closer to some lily pads. The surface of the water had become reflective, undisturbed by the wake of the canoes, nor the movement of any fish, or bugs, or even plants. Azmond felt his horns prickle as he looked over the edge, into the circle of lily pads they floated close enough to touch.

“There’s going to be a lot of crews without ships soon. Crews without captains.” Ulric asserted. “If Rael plays their cards right, they can be named Captain before the end of the war.”

Azmond stared at his reflection and smiled. He saw it blink and smile. He waved, it waved back. He made a face, it made one too. Azmond did a trick with his hands that Wollow had shown him, making it seem like he’d removed his thumb. The reflection just removed its thumb and stared in confusion as it tried to put it back on its hand.

“Ignore the glory hounds, Rael.” Derrol waved his hand dispassionately. “You’ve got somebody to protect; no need to throw yourself into danger.”

Rael’s reflection approached Azmond’s and fussed over it, grabbing the thumb and smushing it back into place. It looked up (or down, from its perspective) and glared at Azmond. It reached up (down?) for Azmond…and a hand of water came from the circle of lily pads to grab Azmond’s arm.

“AZ!”

“Wha—"

Rael, the real one, rushed forwards. Tome-dagger in hand, they tried to pull Azmond away. Both were pulled into the water, reflections disappearing.

<><><>

Azmond’s horns felt like he’d sat on them for too long. It didn’t make any sense, but neither did the realm they entered. It was as if both of him and Rael were sucked into a tiny reed and spat out into an ocean. It was like they were in a tiny drop of water that expanded into infinity. They could still breathe, thankfully. But they floated there, confused and without any sense of direction or orientation. When they tried to speak with their mouths, no words came.

‘What in the hells is going on?’ Azmond could understand, not hear, a voice in the cacophonic silence. Somehow, he knew who it came from. His own thoughts were in a frenzy.

‘Where is Rael? Where am I? Was that Rael? Mirror Rael pulled me in. Why am I hearing this?’

‘Az? Focus, Az!’

Reality swirled around them in a maelstrom before they reasserted themselves on a sphere. The sphere floated in the empty space, showing a distorted image of the world outside. A warped image of Kip, Derrol, and Ulric were starting to panic in slow motion. Surrounding Rael and Azmond were small lights in the shape of people. They gathered in groups to mimic the men above in their motions.

‘Reflections. They’re reflecting us.’

Az could hear Rael. Looking between the fae and the world distorted in the sphere, Az saw that Rael was right. They were in the reflection of the water. A shape formed from the sphere, congregating into a larger mass of light. A larger fae.

Confusion. Simmering anger. Desire to know why the smaller one hurt one of their own.

The emotions buffeted against the pair like a cold wind. Rael and Azmond looked at each other.

‘Did Az feel that?’

‘Feelings? Anger? Hurt one of them? How?’

Anger. Images of pulling finger off. The two felt pain like their thumbs were being pulled off. Azmond cried out and Raela acted quickly. The cold feelings dug into their flesh like blades of ice.

‘Expressions of sorrow, apologies! How do I get them to understand it was a trick, illusion?’

The pain faded and the fae’s emotions stopped rushing towards them.

Bafflement. Curiosity. Want to know how.

‘Az, Az. Show the fae how you did your thumb trick.’

Az, struggling to concentrate despite the trickling sensation in his horns, showed the fae his hands as he hid his left thumb behind his fingers to make it seem like he was pulling off his right thumb.

Bewilderment. Mirth. Expression of apology. Desire to know names.

Rael stiffened and pulled Azmond close.

‘Dragonward. I was named Dragonward.’

Azmond could see the same sear itself in Rael’s mind as the fae nodded. Rael stumbled as the name hit them with the meaning made manifest.

‘By my side is…Scaled.’

Azmond had the weight of the name fall onto his shoulders as flashes of meaning registered in his mind. There was history behind the term, secrets yet to uncovered. A tempest began to simmer in and around Azmond’s mind as these ideas sprang forth, distorting the space around him.

Uncertainty. Requesting clarification. Their own thoughts were played back at them in a mixed jumble until two words sprang out in a chorus of their own thoughts.

‘Az’

‘Rael’

Rael paused for a minute, thoughts leaking out. As more thoughts leapt from their mind to the surroundings, their eyes darted more and more as they struggled to keep from showing anything more.

‘How do I—What solutions—Deception impossible, maybe—’

Until Rael stopped, a frown setting on their features.

‘Those aren’t the names our parents gave us. Not our true, given names. Terms reserved for those familiar to us.’

Apprehension. Understanding. Amusement at human desires to have different names due to different types of relationships. Interest. Recognition at terms ‘dragon’, ‘scaled’.

Azmond’s mind was struggling to keep up as more concepts of ‘Scaled’ diffused into his consciousness. Ideas, stories, and images from unfamiliar places. There was a pressure on his shoulders that felt like it was crushing his body. Rael bit their lip as they were burdened by something similar. They looked to Azmond and set their features.

‘Assertive. Sorry, we can’t stay long. We would like to go back.’

Refusal. Wish to learn more.

Rael grit their teeth.

‘You are not being a polite host. This place is hurting us.’

Surprise. Regret. Sincere apology. Recognition of bad manners. Offer of gifts before you leave.

‘What would you like an exchange?’

Thoughtful. Intended on a favor. Willing to accept three of their hairs each.

‘Take them.’ Rael grit their teeth as Azmond whined under the weight of the strange realm.

The fae plucked three hairs from their heads in a deft swipe. It marveled the black and white hair, expressing contentment and interest in the physical aspects of its two visitors. Rael couldn’t help but wonder if the Faulk tradition of leaving locks of hair for their loved ones had its origins in fae fascinations. The fae conveyed delight at Rael’s errant thought, twisting one of Rael’s hairs and one of Azmond’s together in a coil, which it planted into the sphere they stood on. The seed grew in spurts with their matching heartbeats. First came a long blue stem, which split into a leaves and finally a series of twinkling blue buds. The buds split open to bloom into hydrangea flowers. The fae pulled the plant up and passed it to Rael. Rael didn’t look too closely at the bouquet, focus more on Azmond’s increasing whines of pain.

Expression of interest. Interest in meeting again. Recommendation to seek the closest obelisk in physical world. Clarification of its connection to Ancients, dragons, star-spawn.

Rael and Azmond sunk slowly into the sphere at first. Just as their ankles were submerged into it, the rest of them were pulled quickly into it. The two found themselves ejected from the water feet-first. Azmond breathed a sigh of relief as the weight disappeared from his shoulders and the tingling in his horns faded away. He giggled at the sense of weightlessness as the sky opened up above his feet. Like a cat, he twisted in the air and landed feet first onto Ulric and Kip’s boat. Rael wasn’t as lucky.

“Oof!”

SPLASH!

Like ninety kilo ballistae, Rael was shot from the water into Derrol, launching him from his canoe and sending both into the water. When Derrol came up for air, he cheered. Rael grunted as they treaded water, their expression reminding Azmond of a wet cat.

“You’re okay!” Derrol laughed in relief.

“Yeah.” Rael said, pulling themself onto the canoe. “And all we got was a bunch of stupid flowers.”

They slapped the wet bouquet onto the canoe with a loud thunk. Surprised, they finally paid attention to it. The hydrangea were stunning. The stem was a thin band of flexible lapis lazuli, the leaves traced with veins of aquamarine. The flowers themselves were the most beautiful. Perfectly cut, clear blue sapphires made the petals, with tiny pistils of silver and gold. Incredibly, the bouquet still acted like flowers should; they were flexible to the touch, soft even. Yet they were firm like the stones were supposed to be, and Rael almost cut themself on the sharp petals.

Everyone stared at the priceless bouquet.

“I’m wonderin’ what kind of flowers you would like if those aren’t up ‘t yer standards.” Kip whistled.