The world stood still.
And then Hannke let out a gasp of horror and stretched out his tail, coiling it around Wren’s leg and yanking her up. Wren flew backwards and landed with a thunk! beside Hannke.
For a moment both were too shocked to speak. Then Wren lifted her head and gasped, “What was THAT?”
Hannke shook his head to clear the fog. “You were about to fall into the lava. I pulled you back just in time.”
“I know that.” Wren sniffed dismissively. “It’s just how you saved me that takes my breath away. You flew across the rocks and grabbed me, quick as lightning. You saved my life. And you were so fast at it, too!” She shook her head in awe.
“I-” Hannke was speechless. “I-can we talk about something else, maybe?” The attention was too much for him. If there was anything that Hannke didn’t like, it was attention. He was a very shy snake, and attention was associated with too many bad memories from the past.
Guardian had warned him, ‘Keep to yourself. A popular snake is a dead snake. Or at least, in your case, it is.’ She had advised him to keep away from crowds, avoid contact with other cobras, and never ever trust strangers.
Well, trusting strangers was exactly what Hannke was doing now. On the other fang, Panther seemed trustworthy, and he had Wren on his side.
“Are you guys okay?” Panther’s voice came from somewhere down and to the left.
“We’re fine!” Wren called back, standing up and shaking soot and dirt out of her feathers. “Come on, Hannke. Let’s keep going.” She gave one last flap of her tail, and then beckoned with her wing. Hannke nodded, still unable to really speak, and slithered a little closer.
It was real lava. Real lava. Hannke had never in his whole life imagined that he’d ever seen anything so . . . awesome. Its heat and glow shone brighter than anything Hannke had ever seen (other than the sun). In fact, it looked like someone had taken the sun and melted all over the stones.
Hannke pulled his attention away from the stunning stuff, and focused instead on finding a route down. There was a cobra-long drop into the lava, and only a thin ridge to carefully slide across. Wren, of course, could fly, but Hannke (being a snake and stuff) could not.
“Wren?” He asked nervously, peering dangerously over the edge, with his tail wrapped around a sturdy rock for safety. “Could you check and see—is there a safer route down there?”
Wren paused, hesitating, before nodding and giving her wings a warmup flap. A few more of the rapid flaps and she was in the air, hovering over the lava. Already panic was taking over Hannke’s insides as he watched her swiftly maneuver around hanging stalactites. Then, to his surprise, she ducked under the hanging ledge and disappeared from sight.
Hannke sucked in his breath in shock and pulled away from the edge. Where had she gone? With his tail still curled around the rock, he slithered carefully around the edge of the rock and peered over just as Wren came flying up from below. In surprise, his tail slipped, and for a moment there was nothing between him and the lava. Then, Wren did a complicated swoop and pulled them both under the ledge. Hannke let out a hiss of shock as they slammed into a crevice in the rock.
Stars exploded as Wren crashed into him and they went tumbling down a rocky path. When they finally slowed to a stop and Hannke was able to untangle himself, white-hot pain was already shooting through him and he collapsed.
“Are you . . . alright?” Wren gasped, hauling herself up. She was covered in scratches from the rocks.
“I’m fine,” Hannke managed to say, although he was really seriously NOT fine. “That was one cool swoop, by the way.” He added.
Wren was not amused. “You don’t look okay.” She said, frowning. She took a few cautious wobbles closer to him.
“Honestly, I’m very much fine,” Hannke mumbled, repositioning himself. Deep inside, his head hurt like crazy and he was starting to feel a little dizzy. Wren didn’t need to know, though. “Where are we?”
“Frankly, I have no clue.” Wren remarked, gazing around. “Although I assume it’s some sort of rocky tunnel somewhere.”
She was probably right. The hiss of the lava was safely behind them, and rock surrounded them above, below, and around. The tunnel stretched out in front of and behind them, through the
“Guys! What’s going on?!?” Panther came sprinting out of the darkness, his fish apparently gone. He skidded to a halt just out of reach of Wren’s tail.
“We just had a little . . . misfortune while trying to reach the path.” Wren said.
“Ah. About that.” Panther flattened his ears in shame. “I probably should have told you the way down. I guess I just kind of assumed you would figure it out. How silly of me.”
“It’s fine.” Hannke said. “I mean, I’ve done plenty of silly things recently as well.” He tried to catch Wren’s eye, but she was looking at Panther, not at him.
“Where do we go now?” Wren asked, folding her wings. “You mentioned firebirds? Will we get to meet any of these ‘firebirds’?”
“Of course.” Panther replied, regaining his confidence. “Just follow me.” He set off again, this time slower so that Hannke and Wren could keep up. He walked past various stone pillars that appeared along the tunnel and wove around dangling stalactites. Hannke was impressed with the small ferret’s agility as he followed, slithering where Panther swerved. Wren followed in the very back, dodging, ducking, and trying to be as coordinated as possible.
Eventually, Panther came to halt. The tunnel opened up to a small rock ledge over the lava. Chunks of rock floated around. It seemed like a fantasy, but it was real.
“We’re going to have to jump the gaps.” Panther said hesitantly, flicking his tail. “You can turn back now if you want.”
Hannke observed the rocks nervously. Farther out, the rocks looked crossable enough, but the first gap was about twice as long as Panther was, from nose to tail-tip. Hannke was about four times as long as the gap, but the lava looked awfully hot.
“I can carry you across,” Wren offered.
“Thanks, but . . .” Hannke shook his head. “I trust you, Wren, but I’m not completely sure that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll help,” Panther turned his head around and looked at Hannke with his shiny black eyes. “I’ll jump across first, and you can hook your tail around my paw. Then I’ll pull you across.”
“That doesn’t sound like a very good-” Hannke began, but Wren interrupted,
“That’s an awesome idea!”
“Good.” Panther whisked his tail happily. He narrowed his eyes and looked the gap over. To himself, he added, “I’ve always wanted to try something like this.”
“But-” Hannke tried to protest, but clearly it was settled. Wren flew to land on the rock, and then backed up to make room for Panther. The gray and brown ferret sprung across the lava and landed in front of Wren. “Now, you go, Hannke!” He shouted excitedly.
Hannke gulped and gingerly drew his tail-tip over the edge to wrap around Panther’s leg. The ferret seemed unconcerned, despite having a snake wrapped around him. “Ready?” He asked.
“I-” Hannke was cut off as Panther yanked him over the lava with a jerk.
Hannke let out a hiss of surprise and his stomach lurched. It was over in a flash as his head hit the hard stone and stars exploded painfully.
“Sorry about that,” Panther said, looking only half as sorry as he sounded. Hannke was too dazed to say anything.
The rest of the journey went by smoothly, with the three animals crossing the rocks in the timeliest manner possible when lava was around. After the length it took to catch a mouse, the three of them had crossed the last gap and were on solid ground again. Panther squeezed through a small gap and then they had arrived.
Hannke looked around, taking the surroundings in with astonishment. The bright lava filled the entire space, tumbling over
Hundreds of tiny green birds with fire-colored tail feathers fluttered around eagerly in groups, glamping their tiny wings. They landed on rocks and crunched on insects in their long, slightly curved black beaks. They were beautiful birds, and their feathers shone in the light. Wren watched in awe as they dove and chased each other through the air. These birds thrived in the harsh volcano. Then Hannke realized something.
“Oh!” He exclaimed. “Those aren’t firebirds. Those are myzornis!”
One of the fire-tailed myzornis began chirping hysterically and dove at Hannke, stopping just clear of his head. “What do you have to speak of us, foriegn snake?” She chirped angrily.
“I-uh-”
“Astyria!” Panther interjected, stepping forward. “These new animals are friends. They are merely passing through the area and mean no harm!”
“That’s what everyone says.” Astyria muttered.
“This is cheesy,” Wren inserted.
“Shush your faces!”Another near-flying myzornis demanded abruptly. “What happens here?”
Astyria, Hannke, Wren, and Panther stopped their exchange as the little bird hovered by his companion.
“I can explain!” Astyria declared. “This snake seems to know our identity! I was asking what he wanted from us, as he can only be an enemy!”
“This snake and his companion are travelers, they wish you no harm,” Panther corrected. “May I introduce Hannke-”
“I’m Wren,” Wren added. “And you would be?”
“Let’s save niceties for later.” Grumbled the second myzornis. “Come, and I’ll escort you to the exit.”
“Hey?!? Already?” Wren barked, taking flight and hovering in front of the myzornis. “I know we’re passing through, but I want to
“No way!” Astyria gasped.
“Please? Why not?” Panther pleaded.
The myzornis looked irritated. “Fine. But not the snake.”
Panther opened his mouth to protest, but Wren interrupted, “What? What’s wrong with Hannke?”
“He’s a snake. Snakes eat birds. End of argument.” The myzornis puffed up his chest feathers as if it was as simple as that.
“So what if he’s a predator?” Wren yelled. “He has the heart of a bird! And plus, Panther’s a predator! I’m a predator, for goodness’ sake! You probably eat meat, too!”
“Insects don’t count.” Astyria stated coldly.
“Please.” Panther offered quietly. “I beseech you. I will only ask this favor, and then I will leave you alone.”
“Fine.” The male myzornis finally agreed. “Come this way.”
. . .
“-lives . . .”
Sunrise. The cobra tastes the air, and tastes blood. She is alone. She looks around. She is in a cluster of trees, needles blanketing the ground like snow. She blinks away confusion. What happened?
. . .
The cougar makes his way through the forest, brushing against pines and birches. He follows reluctantly behind the rest of his kind, keeping his body low to the ground. The sun is rising slowly, and dawn creeps over the horizon. A younger, smaller cougar brushes past him and bounds after her mother. His own mother is nowhere in sight.
He pauses to stretch in the sunlight, yawning. He gets to his paws and glides silently through the forest until he is walking up beside the young cougar. He does not know her, and he knows that he should not know her. The only reason that they are here together today is because of Katana.
The elegant tan-furred cougar had arrived at his den one day and demanded that he, his mother, and his siblings follow her away to her
Not.
Yet.
. . .
The cobra slinks into the shade. Her faded memories only perplex her farther. She cannot remember anything of use, anything that could help her find her way back. Her brain is drained of everything important to her. She can barely remember her own name. Something falls into place in the back of her mind. Something is just out of her grasp . . .
She has been given a message. Something to do with danger. She lashes her tail in confusion. They were coming.
A spy! She has received the message from a spy, and she was supposed to deliver it to the others. The spy has also come later, after the trampling. The words . . .
The pieces fall together, and she lets out a yelp of happiness.
“Labradorite lives!”
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