***Author note: Word is that Tapas is planning to shut down. I will be looking for a new home for this novel, but will continue to post here as well until things really start to shut down. If you have heard of or use a site that you'd like to read this story on, please let me know in the comments.***

Brennan noticed Rook’s inspection.

“I can teach you when they grow in properly,” he offered, the warmest he’d been yet.

“We’ll see about that,” Ashton said starchily, stepping around them to add several large pieces of wood to the now roaring fire.

Rook drew his hand back, crossing his arms insecurely.

Brennan’s eyes followed Ashton as the leader went to grab a waterskin containing water. He leaned over to Rook and whispered, “Take no offense. It’s not aimed at you.”

The growing fire highlighted Brennan’s face.

Rook tilted his head thoughtfully.

Vaughon gets favoured by the girls because he’s charismatic and energetic. But Brennan actually seems more dependable and handsome, looking past the scars and viperish gazes.

Kissa laid Violet next to the flames, her brows furrowing in concern as she closely tracked his breathing. Ashton took a large swig out of the waterskin and sat next to her. He passed the hide and food along.

The dried meat was over-salted. Rook chugged several swallows of water after consuming it. Whisk nibbled on the fruit, quietly humming about how her stomach settling nicely.

When the meal was done, she asked, “Is this where we start telling scary stories? Wait, how about campfire songs!”

Rook started to roll his eyes, but the dragons sat eagerly forward.

“Do you know any?” Kissa asked.

“Well, I was in Brownies for two years.”

“Brownies! Did they capture you?”

Whisk and Rook chuckled.

“No, no. It’s a human group for kids. Actually, I think they’ve changed the name since. Anyways, most of the songs taught are rounds. It’s where one person starts, then the person next to them joins in when they reach the second verse. Rinse and repeat, everyone at the circle is singing.”

Brennan wore a wry expression as he asked, “Do you know any solo songs?”

Still chuckling from earlier, Rook joked, “I’m sure you have a lovely singing voice.”

“As lovely as yours, I’d imagine.”

“Have you heard me sing?”

“…No.”

“Then you can’t criticize me.”

Brennan’s eyes sparked with challenge. “Well then, Rook the bard, inspire us with your voice.”

Rook crossed his arms and sat back. “No one’s going to hear me now. Too much sarcasm in the air.”

“I’m sure that’s the reason.” Brennan laughed softly under his breath.

“Okay, Rook and Brennan won’t sing,” Whisk said. “How about a trio?”

Kissa grimaced. “The only musical trio here is you, the elf and the siren. The rest of us would leave your ears bleeding.”

Whisk looked at Ashton. “You too?”

“I once tried when I patrolled on my own,” Ashton mused. “Distorted notes at best. I can whistle, though.”

“You can whistle a tune?”

“A few notes.”

“Gwendolyn, the dragons are musically shy. I need help here.”

Gwendolyn squeezed in between Rook and Whisk. She leaned her cold frame closer to Rook. Rook tensed, but her shivering stirred pity and he refrained from shifting away. Instead, he looked over her to give Whisk a raised eyebrow.

Whisk shrugged.

Looking back at the fire, he caught Ashton observing him. The dragon gave the slightest of nod towards Gwendolyn, silently inquiring if Rook wanted her moved.

Why is Ashton particularly attentive with me, Rook wondered. And he was fairly certain it wasn’t him being narcissistic. Didn’t fairy tales mention dragons obsess over objects, like gold? What if it was a condition that could apply to anything, like a task?

And in this case… getting Rook to safety? To the palace?

Uncomfortable, Rook shook his head. Whatever the reason, he suspected there was more to this rescue than what the dragons had spoken of so far.

The girls sang a few songs, a couple which Rook had heard before. Gwendolyn had a nicer voice, but Whisk, ever passionate, added more expression.

Kissa closed her eyes, cementing the singing to memory, and Ashton and Brennan politely complimented at the end of each one. When it was time to sleep, Vaughon returned and Kissa flew off.

Rook was far from full, but he didn’t dare ask for more food. At least his stomach wasn’t gurgling. He lay next to Violet, hoping to help keep the boy warm, though the fire was throwing a strong heat. Whisk claimed Rook’s stomach as her pillow and was quickly asleep, so he felt too shy to move her. Gwendolyn joined too, though kept to herself.

As the stars slowly moved overhead, Rook’s solace was Gwendolyn shifting every few minutes, indicating her own insomnia. The night sounds were so foreign and the darkness weighed heavily. Restlessness crawled through his legs, while his stomach churned with hunger. Only when the sun started to rise did Rook begin to lull, but a queasiness had joined his hunger. Unable to lay any longer, he slipped out from under Whisk.

Leave it to dragons to make a good fire, Rook thought, noting the pit still emitted heat, despite having lowered to embers. Vaughon was asleep across from it.

Seated on the glacial boulder was Brennan, staring out into the woods. Between the branches, thin streams of light from the rising sun painted his face in golden streaks. Rook envisioned a large beast, contentedly watching its territory. Below, poking out from its enclosure, the treasure—the bag of food that called to Rook, promising that a few small scraps wouldn’t be missed.

Pine needles poked through the holes in Rook’s socks as he crept closer, watching his footing on the forest floor. At the boulder’s base, he looked up and jolted.

Brennan was looking down at him.

“Are you hungry?”

Despite it not being on the menu, Rook imagined mouthwatering bacon and sausages sizzling in a pan. A particularly unpleasant squirm in his stomach swiftly made him abandon the thought.

His brow furrowed. Perhaps he had food poisoning?

“Just checking, but there’s no designated spot to go to the bathroom, right?” he asked.

“You want to wash?”

“No, um, I mean…” Rook’s arsenal of options other than bathroom was washroom, restroom and toilet, and he questioned whether Brennan would interpret any of them properly. He released a chuckle under his breath, finding it funny rather than embarrassing as he stated, “I need to take a leak.”

“Away from camp, but keep in sight.”

Rook stepped behind a couple of thick trees and crouched, resting his forehead against one of the trunks. He clenched his abdomen, urging his stomach to hurry up and puke so he could feel better. It rumbled, but wasn’t ready.

It was like his body needed—craved—something specific, and then it would settle. But any food that came to mind only made it rebel further.

The closest sensation he could compare it to was when his parents had once gone to Mexico and had forgotten to top up his grocery money. He'd survived five days on mac and cheese before Henry's family invited him over. Since then, his food intolerance had skyrocketed, and the thought of eating pasta and cheese evoked disgust.

Perhaps some water will settle things.

Whoosh!

Rook peered around the trees too late for the transformation, but caught Kissa adjusting the clothes she’d just pulled on. She climbed onto the boulder beside Brennan with ease.

“Ashton hasn’t changed his mind?” she asked. “We’re still hiking south?”

Brennan nodded in Rook’s direction and gave her a signal Rook didn’t catch.

“Flying will be too hard on the siren,” Brennan spoke quietly.

Ah, he doesn’t want me to hear, Rook realized. He inched back behind the tree to give them the illusion of privacy, but strained his ears to pick up each word.

“The boy’s paler this morning,” Brennan continued. “Ashton is collecting fresh herbs, but with the siren unable to eat, eventually, one of us will have to let him take energy from us.”

“I hope he has the instincts to do it. We can’t show him.”

“He’ll die if he doesn’t.”

It was said so matter-of-fact that Rook shivered.

They were quiet for a minute. Rook dared another peek and saw Brennan’s eyes were closed as he rubbed his temples. Kissa fiddled with her fingers, shaking her head.

“Kut, and so young,” she said softly. She bared her teeth. “That mountain is repulsive. We only scratched the surface, yet Corruption lives up to those old northern tales.”

“The youths who remain are doomed, one way or another,” Brennan agreed. He opened his eyes and Rook quickly pulled his head back.

“Was it worse deeper in?” Kissa asked.

“Let me simply say it was a relief you found Rook on the outskirts. That unicorn… We saw things neither of us will ever speak of.”

“What about that unearthly cavern I heard you mention to Ashton.”

“A slumbering gate of some sort. There was carved imagery amongst the stalactites that indicated a link to the celestials. Corruption must have harnessed its magic to retrieve the youths. Thankfully, when the moon changes tomorrow it will close.” Brennan gave a low growl. “To think he so easily traversed to other worlds to steal children.”

“Our ancestors raided through such gates, don’t forget. Before the Great Unlinking. They even brought several prey species here to multiply as a food source.”

“Those gates were destroyed for good reason. My mother accidentally went through one they’d missed, while exploring the eastern wilds. She arrived in the middle of some war in a world of ceaseless booms, acidic smoke, and trenched earth. She said it was like someone had cut an anthill in half. She lingered out of curiosity, but wasn’t sorry to leave in the end. I’m partly named after one of the weapons, according to her.”

“You never mentioned this before! How did she get back?”

“Same way she got in. It wasn’t a temporary void. It was stably situated in the clouds, so no one had noticed it before. It was destroyed shortly thereafter.”

“I wouldn’t want to encounter one. Could you imagine arriving in such a foreign place?”

“In the past, the risks for treasures were far less. But so many worlds advanced too quickly in technology or magic—or simply became too unstable.”

Violet gave an extra loud snore.

Kissa slid off the boulder to confirm he was okay, then returned. She sighed. “Fly, get to the palace in two days, but risk killing the siren through suffocation or hyperthermia, or walk, take several days longer, and risk losing him through starvation and infection.”

“Both choices are poor.”

“If I wrap him in furs and fly…”

“Perhaps when we’re closer. The other youths didn’t handle the flight well either.”

“I was too focused on the siren to notice. Is this your observation or Ashton’s exaggeration in order to delay returning to the palace?”

Brennan’s mouth quirked. “The elf had breathing problems. The unicorn fell ill mid-flight. Rook might handle another round, but he’d need stops to warm up.”

“Perhaps I can fly ahead—”

“If you show up ahead, the king will want an update. Ashton is set on going to the elf kingdom first, which is what you’ll report, willing or not, and the king will then send more dragons. If they show up, Ashton might…” Brennan sighed in frustration. “Over the next day or so, there’s a chance I can convince him to go straight to the palace again. But I’ll need your support.”

Silence, but Rook imagined she nodded.

Brennan raised his voice, “Are you finished out there, Rook?”