The flickering light of an ember root flame reflects cleanly off the eyes of Meldi and Khosa as they emerge through the thickets and into the crash site. Despite assurances from Frida, I was concerned the eldest members of the flock wouldn’t arrive all the way from White Mountain. But here they are, wide-eyed and weary, ready to dispense whatever judgment may be necessary for the crimson drakon.

After a painfully long wait, Kuro returned with Sefri and a host of other Kin from the Grandfather Tree. Even with a muzzlefull of Relmoon’s feathers, Sefri was suspicious of Kuro’s motives. It took Tomcat and a friend I hadn’t seen in some time, Fra, to convince Sefri to abandon Couple’s Night. Once she arrived and saw that Kuro wasn’t inventing stories, a Kin was sent to alert the elders at White Mountain.

Clearly, I’m not the most popular Dragon around here. But it’s nice to know some are willing to stand up for me.

With everyone present, the impromptu gathering parts, clearing a path for the elders to advance. They step into the clearing, hastily groomed from dense forest to provide enough room for all twelve Dragons present. With everyone’s attention undivided, the only sound is a crackling ember root fire and muffled talonstops trodding over a blanket of freshly fallen snow.

As the elders slowly pace forward, I can’t help but study the faces of the assembled Kin. That is, all the Kin except Nakino and Kuro. Ever since the delegation from the Grandfather Tree arrived, my two friends have been stuck to me like glue — Nakino tending to my wounds and Kuro watching over me like a guard dog. As the sound of the elder’s wingbeats drew near, they both sat beside me to offer their protection. I’m unsure if the gesture is really necessary, but I do appreciate it.

Khosa’s pointed gaze falls onto Relmoon, standing in front of the roaring ember root fire. Flanked on both sides by square-shouldered drakons, his feathers are torn and dirty with scant traces of dried Dragon’s blood — Nakino tended to his wounds, but only once Sefri forced him to do so. As the two elders approach, Meldi leans into Khosa’s ear and whispers something inaudible. Khosa nods, and Meldi steps away, turning to sit by Sefri’s side. The two elder Dragons nuzzle the heads in greeting, leaving Khosa alone to determine Relmoon’s fate.

She approaches the crimson drakon, then stops unexpectedly with one talon held in the air. She tilts her neck forward and sniffs the air directly in front of Relmoon. Her brow furrows, and her eyes narrow to slits. With a flick of her ears, the drakons guarding Relmoon step aside. Khosa’s long whiskers dance as she samples the air once more, and a curt growl emanates from her chest.

“I can barely smell you, freck.”

“Raven’s Thistle,” Nakino answers, drawing the crowd’s attention. “Relmoon rubbed it over his feathers to conceal his scent. That’s how he stalked Asha without her noticing.”

Oh!

Raven’s Thistle conceals scents!? I didn’t know that! Relmoon is hardly the botanist type, so where did he learn that from?

Khosa twists her back head around to stare Relmoon in the face. “Son-Of-Zuki,” she speaks wearily in a voice brimming with disappointment. “Why did you attack her?”

Relmoon releases a breath and rolls his eyes.

“Because…” he says, stepping past Khosa to stand in the center of the clearing. “I have felt the bitter winds from the north and heard the birdsong in the trees. Azurrel heralds us a dark and cold frostwing, one where prey will be scarce, and Kin will be lost.”

I recognize those words. Ashene, one of the elders, spoke them during my first visit to White Mountain, the one where the elders debated my request to join the flock. That line was his justification for allowing me in.

Relmoon gazes up through a light snowfall and opens his wings. “Here we are. Frostwing has only begun, yet prey is elusive. With each passing day, hunting parties return with less and less game. It won’t be long before snow buries the flock’s territory and our fledges trill wearily for prey. It would seem dear Ashene’s foresight was, unfortunately, correct.” Relmoon pauses to lower his head and address the flock directly. “But have you stopped to consider ‘why’?”

Across the clearing, the only response is the errant wandering of eyes.

“An unusually harsh Frostwing?” Relmoon asks, pacing slowly along a row of Kin. “No, no. The answer, Brothers and Sisters, has been under your talons this whole time.” Slowly, his head turns until his golden eyes lock with my own. “The fate of the Lordanou rests on your wings. I will return once the matter has been settled.”

Keuvra’s message to the flock? What does that have to do with frostwing? I’m anxious to watch the crowd and see how they’re reacting, but I find myself unable to look away from Relmoon’s piercing gaze.

“I believe,” Relmoon continues, beginning a slow pace in my direction. “This child of the Goddess, this prey-animal, was given the form of Kin as a test. How would the proud Brothers and Sisters of the Snowfell Flock react when an outsider appeared in their midst?”

Krrrrrh.

Kuro issues a faint warning growl as Relmoon draws close. Without slowing down, the crimson drakon pivots on his talons to stride towards Khosa instead.

“The answer, it would seem, is our esteemed elders would welcome Princess Asha Eloise Lordanou with open wings.”

Relmoon pauses to stare at the scraggy elder, silently provoking her for a response. But Khosa remains silent, her stone face frozen in a reproachful frown. Showing cracks of frustration, Relmoon flicks his head about and continues with a more urgent cadence.

“This girl may look harmless, but it would seem wherever the Farlander goes, trouble follows. First, it was the poor, hapless Lemur ordered to protect her life. Confronted by the enemies of her Kingdom, he was mercilessly slain.”

What?!

Relmoon’s blaming me for Calypso’s sacrifice?! How could he..?!

“As she fled her Kingdom, Airship-Prey stalked her to our territory, threatening every creature in Felra with untold destruction. She has attracted the attention of pitiful False-Kin, putting the lives of honorable Kin at risk. And now, with frostwing upon us, prey has become scarce, threatening us all with starvation.”

This is insane. How could anyone reasonably blame me for the loss of prey? I didn’t ask to be turned into a Lithan, you know? It’s not my fault if there’s a harsh winter in Felra! All I ever wanted was to return home and see my family again! But if Relmoon has his way and convinces the elders I’m some kind of threat, then… argh, damn it, Relmoon! Whatever he’s trying to do, he can’t succeed!

A wing drapes across my body — without looking, I know it’s Kuro’s. Is my anger really that noticeable? I know from experience back home that animals tend to take me less seriously when I get upset. I should be doing everything I can to stay calm, but how can I just sit around while Relmoon assassinates my character in front of the flock?

Relmoon steps over a felled redwood to approach Meldi and Sefri. “I believe the Farlander knows how dangerous she is but chooses to hide it behind a web of lies. I won’t deny that I stalked her with the intent to kill. But once I laid eyes on her blood, she retaliated against me!”

“Liar!!” I shriek, leaping into the clearing with bared fangs. “I did no such thing!”

Like a bomb detonating, a savage roar explodes across the clearing, and every Dragon present erupts into motion. Kuro and Nakino leap forward to stand beside me as Relmoon flips around and stares at me with a sardonic grin. Hisses and growls rise like hot steam from every corner, causing all present to fall into a defensive posture with wings opened and fangs bared. Everyone’s ready for a fight!

Relmoon rises above the crowd and cackles, “Show them your wound, Asha! Let them see how different you truly are!”

“Your wound?” Meldi asks as the growls begin to subside. “Asha, what is he talking about?”

Erk…!

My body seizes, and a grave realization draws over me like a storm cloud. He saw my purple blood! After he attacked me in the grove, he noticed the blood dripping down my leg and became furious. But instead of bleating about it like a spikehorn, he waited until the elders arrived and tricked me into getting upset! My feathers flatten, and I take an unsteady step backward. This is bad. Relmoon just flipped the narrative and made my overreaction sound incredibly suspicious. Argh, damnit! I can’t get out of this!

Khosa’s eyes narrow. She flicks her ears at Nakino and commands, “Remove her moss.”

At first, Nakino doesn’t respond. He keeps his feathers flat and stares down at the elder. But after a sharp hiss from Khosa, he slowly rises to his talons.

“I’m sorry,” Nakino whispers as his head passes my ear. He lowers himself, grips the bandage with his fangs, and pulls. I squirm at the separation but hold my face as firm as a stone.

A hushed chorus of gasps escapes the crowd of Dragons. My stomach twists as the truth I never wanted to be revealed is laid bare before the flock. From now on, they’ll always see me as different from themselves.

Relmoon smirks, pleased by the crowd’s response. “Ask yourselves — is this the blood of a pure Dragon, a true Sister of Kevura? Or is the blood of an outsider, someone who never should have set a talon inside the flock’s territory?”

Relmoon’s question pacifies the crowd into an uneasy silence. Even Kuro and Nakino seem unnerved.

“Generations ago,” Relmoon continues. “Us proud Dragons, the Kin of Keuvra, willingly rejected Azurrel’s gift of Ascendancy. We pride ourselves in the way we live. But this outsider, this thing… she threatens our way of life and purity of spirit.”

“What does that have to do with Asha?” Kuro challenges in a defiant voice.

“Oh!” Relmoon chirps, flipping around to face us. A smile more sinister than a serpent forms across his muzzle. “I’m delighted you asked, Kuro. As you’ve yet to fulfill your duty to whelp kits, you wouldn’t understand the heartbreak of witnessing your daughters scrounge in the dirt like pitiful Jimbals for any morsel of prey.”

Relmoon pauses, hoping to provoke Kuro into a response. But she stays silent, not so much as lifting a feather in retaliation. After all the lies Relmoon has told, I find his sob story difficult to believe. I’m certain Kuro feels the same way — she must be using every ounce of restraint not to talk back.

Relmoon’s face droops, though only slightly. He tightens his wings and saunters over the grass to stand before Khosa. “With each passing day, my kits grow weary with hunger, pleading incessantly for prey I’ll never find. You asked me why I attacked Asha. It was for them! To restore our prey and fill their bellies! The meaning of Azurrel’s message to the flock is as clear to me as a parting rain storm — Asha is the ‘matter’ he spoke of, and if you do not resolve that matter, then I will.”

Relmoon’s heartless words settle across the clearing, and once more, the only sound is the dancing flame of the ember root fire. I glance around, watching the faces of all the Dragons assembled. They seem stoic and contemplative — could they truly believe Relmoon’s inane ramblings? What if Khosa believes he’s right? What could happen if the flock thinks I’m the root of all their problems?

Relmoon couldn’t be right… could he?

Is that why I transformed into a Lithan? Am I really just a pawn in the Dragon deity’s scheme to test his flock?

Like a cold boiler warming to life, Khosa loosens the snow built around her wings and clambers to her talons. “Son-of-Zuki,” she growls in a voice marred by age. “The winds of hatred blow sideways to Maki. Do you recognize that saying?”

Relmoon lifts his head slightly as Khosa circles him but offers nothing.

“I’m certain you do,” Khosa chuckles. “It is from the story, ‘Kevura and the Tall Towers.’ In it, a friend of our leader succumbs to the jealousy that often follows when a prospective mate chooses to be with another Kin. Soon his hatred consumed him, leading him down a path of recklessness and revenge. Kevura tried to warn his friend of the dangers of jealousy, but it was too late. In his arrogance, he became reckless. And soon, he was struck down.”

Khosa pauses to flick eyes on Meldi. A somber expression forms across her face, and she nods slowly. Khosa swivels back to Relmoon with a certain glint in her eye. “You are not the first Kin this flock has witnessed with an insatiable arrogance,” she scolds. “I find it despicable.”

Relmoon’s face twists, but he keeps his muzzle shut.

Khosa steps in front of Relmoon, raising her head high above his. “You had the chance to air your concerns with your elders. But instead, you chose to ride the winds of hatred.”

“You would not have listened!” Relmoon growls. “The Farlander had to be dealt with!”

“Despite her appearance, Asha is a member of this flock!”

Relmoon jumps to his talons and snarls, “She’s a THREAT!”

“SILENCE!”

Khosa’s roar thunders through the forest, disturbing accumulated snow from the branches above the clearing. Relmoon flinches and rears his head slightly, but his expression is resolute. Try as he might to hide it, he wasn’t expecting the elderly Kin to act so fierce.

Khosa lowers her wings but keeps her fangs bared. “You claim to be acting in Kevura’s name. But If you followed Keuvra half as much as you claim to, then you would know the members of this flock do not attack one another!”

I hold my breath, expecting another volley of fiery objections from Relmoon. But surprisingly, he remains silent and unmoving, staring deep into Khosa. Has she really pacified him?

“You are insubordinate, reckless, and a scourge. Someone such as you has no right to call yourself a Brother of Keuvra." Khosa grunts and flattensher feathers to try and calm herself. The elder Kin growls with a tone of finality, "Son-Of-Zuki, from this time forward, are you exiled from the Snowfell Flock. Fly from these lands and never return.”

Khosa’s judgment falls like snowflakes across the clearing, holding it equally as silent. With his fate decided, Relmoon’s feathers lower, and his tail stops swaying through the grass. There’s a distinct look of acceptance scrawled across his face — I get the impression he knew this would happen all along. He snorts, folds his wings, and stares at Khosa’s iron face a heartbeat longer before stepping away. Relmoon ambles across the clearing with his head held low, refusing to deign a glance at the shocked Kin surrounding him. As he approaches the thickets to leave, he stops and turns to address his former flockmates one final time.

“Our leader, our prey, and soon the flock,” he speaks in an unsteady voice brimming with contempt. “You will regret this!”

Savage eyes stare across the clearing and lock with my own. But the crimson drakon holds them for only a heartbeat before swiveling his gaze onto the Dragon sitting beside me: Kuro. Relmoon’s brow furrows further, and unfettered emotions begin to crack through his resolve. He tears his head away and walks through the underbrush until his tail disappears into the night.