RARR!!

A stout cry erupts from below, echoing through the whirling tempest of snow and ice. Heaving wingbeats strain to gain altitude against the gales, and a moment later, Kuro glides into view below my foretalons. On fairer days, her soot-colored plumage would stand out against the outline of pearl-white snow. But here, she’s practically invisible, veiled from sight by the heavy snow squall and ice-encumbered wings.

She certainly can't see me if I can barely see her. I glide beside her and shout, “Did you find something?”

Kuro’s head swivels towards me, and relief floods her face. She flicks her ears towards the ground and yells, “Down there! We can sleep against the side of that hill!”

A gust of wind pelts my face with ice. “You mean outside?”

“All the dens are snowed in. We have no other choice!”

I scan the ground and locate what Kuro was describing: nestled in a grove of redwoods is a rocky outcrop against the side of a small, snow-covered hill. There are no dens, no caves, or really anywhere suitable that can act as shelter.

…Is she being serious? Even as a Lemur, I was never one to complain about my sleeping accommodations. But this? Quite frankly, this sucks. At best, there may be a rocky overhang to stop a couple of snowflakes from landing on top of us. And how are we supposed to start a fire when all the emberoot is buried under snow drifts?

But what else can we do? Bonello asked us to hunt this morning, and it wasn’t until early afternoon that we departed Flat Rock to fly north to White Mountain. Resigning myself to a night in the cold, I exhale stiffly and tell Kuro, “…Alright. Let’s land.”

We lower ourselves from the sky and land in a clearing a short distance from the hill. Following primarily by scent, Kuro leads us through the snow-covered forest and toward the rocks we saw from the air. It’s not until we’re at the base of the hill that it becomes visible through the blinding snow. The bottom half is an ice-crusted rock wall with wind-sculpted snow drifts burying everything in sight. That is, everything but the space cast beneath a jutting overhang of slate gray stone near the site of a felled sequoia. The wind seems to be blowing past this location, creating a snow-free respite from the gales. It’s not much, but for tonight, it’s shelter.

As night falls, we gather the remains of fallen trees to create an adequate, if short-lived, denfire. Kuro says it won’t last the night, but the warmth should help us fall asleep more easily. With little reason to stay up past sundown, we retire for the night, our bellies empty.

Beneath the stone overhang, I settle against the snow-dusted rockface and tighten my wings. As the icy winds blow around us, doubts begin to cross my mind — I’ve never slept outside before. What happens if I can’t fall asleep? If my feathers begin to freeze, will I wake up?

As Kuro steps past the fire, she notices the anxiety scrawled across my face. “I’ll try to block the wind as much as I can,” she assures with a gentle smile.

“O-Okay,” I nod. “Thank you, Kuro.”

True to her word, Kuro has continued to respect my wishes for us to sleep apart. Even now, as we sleep on a pile of frozen rocks in a fierce snowstorm, she isn’t so much as offering to lay a feather against me. That was how we slept with each other — her wings draped over me, our mutual warmth keeping us snug on even the coldest nights. With perhaps the coldest night of them all still ahead of us… I’m beginning to have some second thoughts about my request.

But before I can act on any of them, Kuro settles beside me, her body bearing the brunt of the storm. “Fair dreams, Asha.”

Momentary guilt causes me to pause before saying, “Goodnight, Kuro.”

With snowflakes swirling around us, I curl into a ball, laying my head past my tailfeathers and using my wing as a shield. An icy wind blows past Kuro, throwing loose snow onto my feathers. I shiver momentarily, allowing my fangs to chatter in my muzzle. I hear Kuro’s feathers shift through closed eyes, and a small sound of anguish escapes her.

Should I… ask Kuro to sleep with me?

As I contemplate the idea, my thoughts begin to numb, drifting as they often do back to my home in Ellyntide. With memories of simpler times playing through my head, It’s not long before I settle into a peaceful slumber.

Consciousness returns to me at the sound of a foreboding growl and a stiff kick to my leg.

Quick as a lightning bolt, I raise my head and focus sleep-dulled eyes. Through the pale light of dawn, I see Kuro standing before me at the front of the shelter, her wings drawn open and her head lowered close to the ground. My hind leg is in mild pain — Kuro has been kicking it to rouse me from sleep. Confused, I gaze past her, and everything becomes clear: a pack of Litsha, no more than eight strong, have surrounded us in the forest!

“Asha,” Kuro growls over my startled gasp. “Stand up. Slowly.”

Following her orders, I slowly rise from the ground, focusing on the pack. Until now, they’ve remained silent, standing at a distance and not so much as raising a paw from the snow. But upon seeing me awake, they yelp and bare their fangs in excitement. They were hoping I’d stay asleep and make an easy prey-kill.

I’ll give them one thing: they’re clever.

This is a dangerous situation. Three or four Litsha are no problem for a group of experienced huntresses like us. But a pack of eight? We’d have our work cut out in an open space. I’d expect us to survive, but not without some injuries. But here in the forest, surrounded and cornered on all sides… I’m less certain about our odds.

Kuro flicks her ears forward, signaling a path past the left edge of the pack and into the forest. “When I give the sign, we’ll run for the clearing.”

A growl of acknowledgement rumbles my chest feathers. With the battle lines laid down, the Litsha become rowdy, cavorting and yelping for us to make the first move. I bunch my muscles, ready for the fight and Kuro’s command.

“…Now!”

Like diving hawks, we tuck our wings and propel forward, racing to the far edge of the pack’s line. Our enemies react in turn, leaping to cut us off at the base of the felled redwood. Hunched for a fight, they watch helplessly as Kuro leaps into the air to clear the fallen trunk. Snowy branches rain down from above as Kuro’s body barrels through the canopy, causing a few of the Litsha to scatter in fear. As she lands on the opposite side, I approach the disoriented pack and prepare to mirror Kuro’s leap. But the pack senses my plan and reaches skyward to intervene. I leap into the air and hook a talon low, clipping the edge of a Litsha’s face and sending their head spiraling backward. Blood flows forth, but not from prey. While aiming my claws, another Litsha from the opposite direction snagged their fangs against the back of my hindtalon. I sail over the tree and land where Kuro impacted into a snowdrift. Purple blood trails behind me as sprint for the clearing.

SKREAK!! SKREAAAK!!

I shriek into the crisp morning air, hoping my desperate pleas reach the ears of a Kin on their morning hunt. As my call echoes around the valley, Kuro adds her own cry.

RORARRGH!!

We bound through the forest, leaping and dodging trees as fast as our talons will allow us. I can hear the pack behind me, laughing and yelping as they close the gap between us. In a larger forest, they would quickly catch up to me. But today, it’s only a short distance to the clearing we landed in the night prior. Following Kuro’s lead, I leap through a snow-covered thicket and find myself back in the clearing. In any other season, we would take-off now to escape the moonbound Litsha. But here in the depths of winter, the chance to prey on an entire pack is simply too enticing. Without speaking, me and Kuro cast about and lower into an attack position, ready to ambush our prey the moment they appear.

And appear they do, leaping through the thickets at once, a writhing mass of tan and white lunging towards us with fangs bared and claws outstretched. Kuro is the first to attack, leaping onto a Litsha’s back and immediately lunging for its neck. But before she can execute a killing maneuver, the Litsha flops to the ground and reaches up to swipe at Kuro’s face. Unwilling to be injured so early in the fight, she detaches herself from the Litsha and leaps away, only to land into another pile of cavorting prey. I lope forward to help my dear friend, only to see a Litsha barrel through a snow drift and cut me off halfway. I pivot at the last moment and attempt to hook a wing claw against my enemy, only for it to sail cleanly out of the way as the Litsha drops into the same snowdrift it burst out of.

We trade blows, occasionally scoring claws on each other, but neither Kuro nor I can execute a killing maneuver. There are simply too many Litsha moving too fast for us to reach their necks safely. As the stalemate drags on, doubts begin to enter my mind. Was it a mistake to challenge the pack? Should we take flight before one of us gets hurt?

RARGH!

A baleful cry splits the hollow, momentarily drawing the pack’s attention. But for one unlucky Litsha, it’s already too late. A shadowy presence falls from the sky like a meteor, its hackles shimmering gold against the day’s first rays of sunlight. With its foretalons extended, the Lithan hooks onto the back of the helpless Litsha before carrying it a short distance and hammering it into the ground. Quicker than lightning, his head lunges for the neck.

Instantly, the cadence of the battle shifts. Harried yelps rise from the pack as they realize the advantage they once enjoyed has vanished in a pool of red snow. They scatter like rose petals to the wind, making a mad dash for the forest’s edge with their tails tucked neatly behind them. As they vanish into the underbrush, the drakon rears his head and issues a savage roar of defiance.

ROOOARR!

The clearing falls silent, and the copper drakon turns about to greet us. Our eyes meet, and his eyes widen in surprise. Me and him, we’ve met each other before. How could I possibly forget the second Dragon I ever saw?

“Enyll!!”

“Asha…” he trails off, surprised to see me. Then, his gaze slides to my left. “…Kuro.”

His former den mate stands motionless with a face of steel, refusing to acknowledge him in any way.

“Enyll, thank you so much!” I exclaim, bounding forward. I reach up and nuzzle against his head, turning him as stiff as a dead spikehorn. “You arrived just in time! There were so many of them!”

A moment passes, and Enyll quickly returns the nuzzle before separating himself from me. He retreats a step, his wings still raised, and darts a befuddled gaze between Kuro and I. Like everyone else in the flock, he must have heard the rumors about our supposed relationship.

“Um, Yeah. You’re welcome,” he manages to blurt out.

Kuro approaches my flank and asks dryly, “What are you doing here?”

“I was hunting prey for Tall Spires,” Enyll snorts. “I moved there after departing your den.”

Oh, so that’s where Enyll went! I saw him on Couple’s Night, but we haven’t spoken to each other since the day I was admitted into the flock. Since that gathering, I’ve occasionally wondered about the other Dragon who saved my life on my first day in Felra.

The copper drakon continues in a faintly smug voice, “How did you two manage to get ambushed?”

Standing beside me, I feel warm irritation emanating from Kuro’s feathers. I step past her and say, “Last night, we were flying to White Mountain when it began to snow. We decided to land and spend the night on a nearby hill. I awoke to discover they had surrounded us.”

Enyll’s gaze slides to the Litsha he preyed upon, and he shakes his head in dismay. “Miserable creatures. It seems like you’re unharmed.”

“We’re fine,” Kuro speaks in a voice blunt enough to maul somebody.

The former den mates stare at each other with their wings perked, the tension so thick you could divide it with a claw. But before one of them can go feral, Enyll peels his gaze from Kuro and settles it onto me. His face softens, and a particular resolve forms across it.

“Here,” he says, returning to his prey-kill. He grabs the Litsha in his jaws, then drops it into the snow before me and Kuro. “You’ve had a rough morning.”

Wha..?! He’s offering his prey to us?!

“O-oh, Enyll,” I stumble, running my fangs through my chest feathers. “We can’t accept this. That’s your prey-kill, not—”

“Take it,” he growls. “I haven’t forgotten the kindness you offered my sister.”

Oh, that’s right... on my first night in Felra, I offered to share some of my prey with Enyll’s sister, Fra. It seems the time has come to repay that act of generosity. And it couldn’t have come at a better time! My last meal was the frozen scraps of a Spikehorn’s neck, granted to me nearly a day prior in Flat Rock.

I cast a glance at Kuro, who’s surely just as hungry as I am. Her brow remains furrowed in irritation; I think she would sooner starve than accept Enyll’s generosity. But to my surprise, her face begins to soften. She takes a cautious step forward, then stops with one talon held in the air.

Perhaps she’ll follow my lead. I step past the dawdling drakaina and tip my wings to Enyll. “Thank you,” I say before burying my head in warm viscera. Moments later, I sense Kuro’s head beside my own.

As we enjoy our first full meal in days, Enyll issues a stiff grunt. “I should return to my hunt.”

Muffled talonsteps begin to trod away from us. With a tendon hanging from my jaws, I lift my head and shout, “Enyll, wait!”

The copper drakon, a few yards removed, stops and swivels his neck around.

“Why don’t you join us?” I offer.

“What?!” The other two Dragons shriek in unison.

“O-Okay, listen!” I stumble. “I know you and Kuro dislike each other.”

“That’s an understatement,” Kuro rumbles.

“But! Me and Kuro are journeying to the territory beyond White Mountain. I believe there’s a special plant there that could treat the illness at the Grandfather Tree. We planned to fly there alone, but it would be safer if another Kin joined us.”

Enyll tilts his head, and his tail sways slowly behind him. “A special plant? Since when did you know anything about plants?”

“Since she was a Lemur,” Kuro answers, attempting to stifle a growl.

I incline my head. “Me and Nakino were working together to discover a treatment before, um, some stuff happened. I’m pretty certain I know the treatment now, but I’m just missing one ingredient.”

Enyll’s eyes remain slits. But instead of dismissing us, he closes his wings and reapproaches. “Tell me more about this special plant.”

Beside me, Kuro’s eyes widen.

I slurp up the tendon hanging from my jaw. “In the Farlands, we call it Pilophorus acicularis, or more commonly, Devil’s Matchstick lichen.”

Enyll’s face bends in surprise, and he shares a glance with Kuro. “I see… such strange Farlander words. I’ve never heard of a ‘lichen’ before.”

“Well, this one usually grows on decaying wood, but it can also be found on rocky outcrops. In frostwing, I suspect it could only be found on the underside of logs. Specifically, I’m looking for depressions in the ground where fallen trees are buried under snowdrifts.”

Enyll mumbles something to himself, then gazes across the forest in contemplation. “I know a place like that.”

My muzzle falls open. “You do?!”

“Yeah,” Enyll says calmly. “My mother trained me to hunt in the lands beyond White Mountain. One morning, we were tracking prey by scent and landed in the forest. We came across a strange place with lots of stones and fallen trees… I’ll never forget it. It was like the stones were arranged with intention.”

Arranged with intention?

“Oh my Goddess,” I whisper. “Kuro, that sounds like the building in Loner territory!”

While Kuro remains silent, Enyll squawks, “The what?”

“Kuro, he has to join us! He knows about the place I saw—“ My mouth seizes before I can utter another word. No, we don’t need any other Dragon to know about Gust and the vision I received from him. “I mean, the place where the lichen can be found!”

Kuro watches me for a moment and releases a heavy, frustrated sigh. Her apprehension is understandable. My admittance to the flock allowed Kuro to finally rid herself of the drakon she despised so much. But now, not even a full season later, he’s back. And this time, there’s every reason to let him join us.

“Kuro, please,” I say, leaning my head close to hers, hoping my scent is just as alluring as hers. “I know how much you dislike Enyll. But I also know you dislike Relmoon even more.”

A stiff growl rises from the copper drakon’s chest. “That wingless traitor? He’s looking for you, isn’t he?”

“That’s right,” I nod. “Kuro, if Relmoon finds us again in Loner territory, we’ll have a much better chance of defeating him with Enyll on our wing. He has to come with us!”

For a breathless moment, Kuro keeps her eyes attached to Enyll. Finally, she stamps her talon against the ground and turns away. “Alright,” she says simply before skulking away with her head held low.

Again, my muzzle falls open. She agreed to let Enyll join us! I can hardly believe it! I thought getting her to see my point of view would be a battle, but it wasn’t! Eager to discuss this shocking turn of events, I approach Enyll so we can speak a bit more candidly.

“I didn’t think she would agree!” I exclaim.

“Neither did I,” Enyll sniffs, lifting his wing to preen an errant feather.

“You’re alright with joining us, right? I, um, kinda set you up for this without even asking.”

Enyll refolds his wing before nodding slowly. “It’s better than fetching prey for Tall Spires. Besides, it seems you’ve helped Kuro mature a little.”

“W-well!” I chirp, a little shocked by his observation. “You’ve matured a bit yourself.”

Enyll snorts, “I was always the more mature Dragon.”

I swivel my neck around to check on Kuro. She’s pacing at the edge of the clearing, walking the line of trees with her head held low and her tail dragging through the snow. She really has matured though, hasn’t she? When I first met Kuro, she was always a feather’s edge away from getting into fights with Enyll. Obviously, she isn’t thrilled about this arrangement. But the fact that she agreed to it is such a big deal. Watching her improve like this… it makes me feel warm and content in a way that I can’t describe.

“There’s one other thing,” Enyll adds. He lowers his voice and looks me straight in the eye. “You and Kuro… you’re not…”

“No,” I quickly interject. “At least, um. Not yet.”

Pfft, ‘not yet’. What am I even saying?

I’m acting like it’s only a matter of time until we’re mated.

Enyll studies me for a moment, his face curious. “Alright,” he says calmly. “So, I won’t be stepping on your tailfeathers.”

“Not at all,” I smile.

He nods silently before folding his wings flat against himself. “You should finish your prey.”

“Oh!” I chirp. “Right, of course.”

As I step away to finish my share of the Litsha, a curious thought enters my head: Did Gust lead Enyll to the clearing? Moreover, did he lead the pack of Litsha to our makeshift den? It can’t be a coincidence that the one Kin who’s seen the place in my vision happened to be flying overhead just as we needed help. How much of my life is being orchestrated by the deities? If they’re dead set on helping me succeed in Felra, then… why? What is the purpose of leading a Princess from Ellyntide to treat an illness in the Snowfell Flock?

As usual, there are far too many questions and not enough answers. I suppose all I can do is hope they reveal themselves.

Warm sunlight bathes my feathers as I approach the Litsha and return to my meal. A few moments later, I sense Kuro’s head beside my own.