Rook played with the cloth in hand.

“I don’t get a mask too?”

“You should be able to handle the wind and altitude even in this form,” Ashton said. He tilted his head curiously. “Unless you can transform and fly yourself?”

“I can barely fathom it,” Rook admitted, fitting the cloth around his head. His fingers fumbled with knotting it, suddenly less steady than they should have been.

Ashton’s larger fingers brushed against Rook’s, taking over. A testing tug was given when done.

Rook listened to Ashton back up several steps. There were slight rustling noises coming from each of the dragons’ positions, as they fiddled with removing their clothes. A windy noise followed; then sudden clacking and scrapping of rocks, as a great weight suddenly pressed down on them.

A giant puff of breath rushed down over Rook, filling his nose with Ashton’s campfire scent. Rook’s hands clenched, fighting the urge to crouch and tear off the blindfold. Warmer than the air, the breath actually felt nice, but anything that could release such a gust must be huge!

A smooth, curved surface bumped Rook’s hand, lingering there. He gasped, realizing it was a claw the size of a rhino’s horn. Feeling blindly along it, he encountered keratin scales where the toe portion started, more like a tortoise’s skin than a snake’s.

Ashton directed Rook with light nudges to turn around. His toes curled around Rook in a sort of embrace. One slipped under Rook’s butt, while the others supported his back and chest. The final one barely touched him, meant more as a barricade to protect his face. With his arms pinned in the hold, he could only jerk when he was suddenly lifted from the ground.

Through a slit in the fabric, he got a peek of the dark red claws surrounding him. A slim space between two of the toes revealed larger scales that lined a vast chest. Rook quickly shut his eyes, his heart racing faster.

He heard the wings give a giant wave down, beginning a repetitive flapping motion. The world became bouncy and jostling. Rook’s neck whipped side-to-side and his legs swung every which direction, hitting Ashton’s toes several time. The dragon didn’t seem bothered.

Over the rush of the wind, Rook heard Gwendolyn’s high-pitched scream.

Then the bouncing stopped. His stomach dropped in a thrilling swoop, and he couldn't resist an exhilarated laugh. He loved rollercoasters and that was exactly what this was feeling like in spurts as Ashton’s powerful wings alternated between gliding and pounding the air.

I’m in the sky!

I’m flying!

Rook wandered how a dragon felt flying. Perhaps like controlled falling?

His stomach twisted as his fall in the dark hole flashed to the forefront of his mind.

The novelty was lost. His arms tensed, suddenly needing to reach out to grab something stable. His legs, free to the elements, were now freezing, further reminding him of the hole’s chill.

How far up are we?

I need ground.

I need earth!

I—

His breathing became staccato.

Ashton gave a light warning squeeze, then dived. The rushing air knocked away Rook’s breath entirely. Ashton landed with a large thump, sounding like a huge tree had fallen. Other impacts followed, shaking the earth.

Released onto the ground, Rook gasped in breath. His fingers curled into the soil. Ground.

The panic abated as quickly as it had come, stirring a mix of relief and embarrassment in him. To his right, he could hear Whisk throwing up. Elsewhere, packs were being opened alongside the rustle of fabric as the dragons changed back into their clothes.

Ashton, humanoid once more, undid Rook’s blindfold. Knowing what hid beneath that human shape made the dragon seem somehow larger than before. His finger traced Rook’s burn before he turned to Kissa. She was laying Violet’s limp form on a patch of moss. The boy’s chest rose and fell slowly.

“Take those three to gather kindling,” Ashton ordered Brennan. “Vaughon, look-out.”

Vaughon nodded, yanking off the shirt he’d just put back on and dashing off out of sight into the woods. The sound of large branches snapping followed.

Ashton bent down next to Kissa and felt Violet’s forehead.

“Was it the pain or the flight?”

As they discussed the siren quietly, Rook took in the small campsite. There was a pit, and the ground cover near it, mostly needles, moss and wild grass, were flattened from previous use. The ground itself edged downward at certain sides, hinting they were at the top of a hill.

Brennan stepped into Rook’s view.

“Are you well?”

“Just need to get feeling back to my legs,” Rook stated, giving his calves and toes a vigorous rubbing.

“Good. Alright you three, the sooner you gather enough kindling, the sooner you’ll be warm.

Whisk smacked her mouth unenthusiastically. “Got it. But please tell me there’ll be food? Ideally, something to settle the stomach?”

Brennan walked over to a large boulder. There were several sprinkled over the area, abandoned by glaciers ages ago. This particular one sat right at the camp’s edge. He reached into a fracture under the top’s lip and pulled out a leather bound package.

“Um, Brennan?” Rook tried the dragon’s name. The dragon looked over at him. A strange, please shiver ran through Rook. “Is that a symbol on the rock? It looks like its glowing.”

Whisk squinted at the boulder.

“That’s a supply marker for a cache.” Brennan nodded. “There are hundreds throughout the mountain ranges. Though, if you take, you need to resupply. In this case, we have dried venison.”

Whisk rubbed her stomach. “I suppose now is a good time to point out I’m a vegetarian?”

“Most hooves are. There’s also some dried fruit.”

“I always believed I had a weak stomach.” Whisk laughed, her energy swiftly rebounding. “Who would have thought it was because I wasn’t human!” She tugged on Gwendolyn, who’d sat down on a stump. “Let’s go!”

Gwendolyn yanked her arm free and crossed them firmly against her chest. Her mask lay on the ground next to her. She hadn’t thrown it, Brennan’s threat still in mind, but she’d had enough.

“If you don’t help, you don’t eat,” Brennan warned.

Holding her chin high, Gwendolyn fixed her gaze on the trees, refusing to acknowledge any of them.

Whisk caught Brennan's wrist and Rook's hand, giving each a playful tug before running ahead into the trees. Brennan wiped his wrist on his cloak. She stopped before freshly fallen branches from the dragons’ landing.

“I’ve camped before, so I know the good stuff,” Whisk said, breaking sticks off the larger branches.  She held one in front of her face, tilted her head slightly, then tossed is away. “Too waterlogged. Hey, let’s have a competition to see who can gather the most!”

Brennan snapped a massive branch like it were a twig. He began stripping the bark.

“You two may. I’ll clean and ready the pit.”

“Well?” Whisk asked, jumping in Rook’s way and bouncing on her feet.

Rook was too weary to care, but if racing Whisk meant the kindling got gathered faster, he'd play along.

“You’re on.”

Whisk dashed off, giggling.

Through the trees, the camp became harder to see. The sky was nearly dark, but his night vision was kicking in.  Everything held a different sort of hue. Rook picked up thicker kindling, while Whisk grabbed the thinner pieces.

“Is the winning pile based on quantity or weight?” Rook asked, finding himself getting a little into the competitive spirit.

“Who cares?” Whisk said melodically. She snapped several small branches off of a tree. A pinecone dropped, hitting Rook on his head. “There’s no rules except slow and steady won’t win the race!”

“I see.”

Rook set his pile down, picked up the pinecone, aimed for the back of head, and threw.

Whisk squeaked, dropping her kindling. She patted her hair until she found the caught pinecone. Her nostrils flared, then her wild eyes looked gleefully toward him. She yanked a couple green pinecones off a branch, showering down pine needles.

“Duel accepted!”

She threw both, missing Rook by a long shot.

“Guess unicorns can’t aim,” Rook taunted, finding another pinecone and testing the weight in his hand.

“I can’t see in the dark.”

“It’s not that dark yet.”

“I can barely see my hand in front of my face.”

Rook laughed as he threw and struck again.

“Oh?”

Whisk gave a wicked chuckle. She’d spotted a ground squirrel’s hoard. Grabbing an armful of ammo, she proceeded to barrage Rook’s direction, forcing him to take cover behind a tree. Just as he crouched down for a pinecone, she jumped around the trunk, cascading him with her remaining supply.

One clipped the burn on his neck and pain flashed white. Rook fell to his hands and knees.

Oblivious, Whisk pushed him onto his back and proceeded to sit on his stomach. She pressed the pinecone lightly beneath his chin in mock triumph.

“Surrender, dragon?”

“Never.” Rook breathlessly chuckled, blinking the tears from his eyes. If she was going to fight dirty, then he’d change tactics too. “If I were at school, the guys would be so jealous right now.”

“Yes, pinecone fights are the rage at my school too.”

“I meant, a pretty girl in the middle of the woods is sitting on top of me.”

“Hmm.” She ran the cone teasingly along his skin. She leaned down so the ends of her hair tickled his cheeks. “Do you want to make-out?”

“No!” Rook nearly choked on the word. His plan backfiring, his brain stuttered on what to say next.

Whisk straightened up, folding her arms under a frown. “Ouch! Way to hurt my ego.”

Heat flooded his face. “I didn’t—”

“I’m not beautiful enough for you?”

“No. I mean, you’re pretty, but—”

“Relax.” Her mischievous smile reappeared. “I’m teasing. You're handsome—in an I'm-going-to-eat-you sort of way—but you don't appeal to me either. Only those who shine…” Her voice softened. “I think our species are just too different.”

“Maybe, yeah.”

Rook had never felt proper attraction towards anyone. A few girls had flirted with him in the past, but nothing came of it. Even a boy. The kid had caught him so off guard that he’d flirted along out of intrigue. However, his parents had overheard, thought he was serious about it, and had sent the boy packing. That year, he’d been flooded with counselling to ensure he stayed on their right track.

“None-the-less, you insulted my honour!” Whisk declared loudly, theatrical once more. “Prepare to—Eek!”

Rook flipped her over, knocking aside the pinecone.

“You were saying, unicorn?”

“Is the kindling gathered?” Ashton called out.

Rook and Whisk scrambled apart and rushed to track down their piles.

“Let them play,” Brennan objected. "They’re young. They’ve just tasted freedom.”

“They’re too loud and the siren needs the fire.”

“My shavings will start it as soon as the remaining soot is tossed. Besides, they’re giving us a classic battle between dragon and unicorn. Who are we to stop a fight between long-time nemesis.”

The dragons broke into laughter.

Rook glanced at Whisk, who raised a brow, but was doing so to a tree trunk. “I’m over here,” he whispered quietly, then helped guide her back to camp, where they piled the wood next to the fire pit.

Next to the firepit’s shavings, Brennan snapped his thumb and middle finger nail together. A flame sprang to life, hungrily eating the wood.

“Woah!” Rook exclaimed, crouching down. “That’s amazing! How did you do that?”

Brennan froze, unused to the youths’ compliments being towards him. Then, he held his hand over the fire for them to see.

“Our nails can initiate flame,” he explained. He kept carefully still, a smile starting at the corner of his lips as Rook leaned in closer to inspect them.

Rook ran a finger over each nail. They were sharp, thick, and held a mild curve.

Whisk also reached out, but retracted at the last minute. “Your hand is too close to the heat.”

“Could you do it again?” Rook asked.

Brennan obliged three times and basked in their praise. Even Gwendolyn watched from her time-out stump.

When Brennan looked away, Rook tried clicking his own nails. He held his fingers near the flames, trying to spot even a remote dragon element about them.

Nope. Boring human nails.

Red around the cuticles, maybe, but that had to have been from the fall.