Winter Turning

  “Did you know my parents?” he asked Cirrus. “Tundra and Narwhal?”

  Cirrus glanced up, tracking a rose-colored butterfly with a malevolent gaze, as though he was considering eating it. “Perhaps,” he said. “Long ago.”

  He had to know that Narwhal was the queen’s brother. How could anyone have grown up as an IceWing without learning the royal lineage?

  Before Winter could ask any more questions, he heard snapping branches and turned to see Moon and Kinkajou returning. Kinkajou was carrying a small pile of peaches and plums between her talons, and a pair of rabbits dangled from Moon’s jaws.

  “They’re with us,” Qibli said quickly as Riptide and Cirrus both bristled.

  “Really?” Riptide said. “Never thought I’d see a NightWing and an IceWing traveling together. Or a RainWing outside the rainforest, for that matter. How did you all come together?”

  Winter glanced over at Cirrus again and found him glaring at Moon and Kinkajou with an expression of searing hatred, so intense that Winter wanted to run across the clearing and fling up his wings to shield Moon from it. Cirrus had left the IceWings, but his loathing of NightWings clearly still ran deep.

  “We’re from the Jade Mountain Academy,” Qibli said to Riptide. “I’m Qibli, and that’s Moon and Kinkajou. Guys, this is Riptide and Serious.”

  “CIRRUS,” the IceWing snarled.

  “That’s what I said.” Qibli smiled disarmingly, but Winter could tell by now when the SandWing was deliberately trying to annoy someone.

  “Jade Mountain?” Riptide echoed, his whole face lighting up. “You must know Tsunami. How is she? Did she send you? Was there a message for me?”

  “No,” Winter said. “I mean, Deathbringer sent us. Tsunami doesn’t know we’re here.”

  “Oh.” Riptide’s wings drooped.

  Moon took a nervous step toward him, opened her mouth, closed it, and then blurted, “But she thinks about you all the time.” She made a face, as though she wasn’t sure she should have said that.

  “Really?” The SeaWing’s phosphorescent scales flashed as he turned to look at her.

  “Yes. She — she wants to hear from you.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Riptide said. “I should probably wait until she contacts me. Oh, here’s Pyrite and Avalanche.”

  There was a rustling in the trees, and then the MudWing was back, this time with two SkyWings following behind her.

  The bigger SkyWing had red scales, smoke rising from her ears, and a bad-tempered expression. There was something about the way she glared at them that made Winter’s spine prickle. He followed her gaze and realized that her hostility was directed at Qibli; she almost looked as though she wanted to rip the barb right off his tail. Does she know him, or does she have a problem with SandWings in general?

  Well, if she does know him, that would explain why she wants to kill him. Ha ha.

  Winter let himself be amused for a second — but he also found himself hoping she wouldn’t be the one who helped them.

  The second SkyWing was smaller and her wings twitched constantly, as if she might take off at any moment. Her scales were an interesting orange color that was close to yellow, like the inside of a peach, and her eyes were a darker shade of orange, like the amber earring Qibli wore. Around her neck was a small brown pouch on a gold chain, tight as a choker, and she also had a gold nose ring on one side of her snout, which was a jewelry decision Winter had never seen before.

  “Hi,” she said, and then launched abruptly into a speech. “Listen, whatever it is you need, I don’t think I can help you. It’s not that I wouldn’t like to. I would like to, really, I wish I could do all kinds of things, but the truth is I’m not very good at anything and I’m sure I’m not the dragon you’re looking for, so …” She trailed off, staring at them and twitching.

  “We’re not asking much,” Winter said. “We just want you to look at a sketch and see if one of you recognizes it — and if you do, maybe you could give us directions on how to get there.”

  “Why should I help you?” the red SkyWing demanded.

  “Because we’re at peace now,” Riptide said sharply. “And dragons at peace help each other. That is kind of the entire premise of the Talons of Peace.”

  She growled deep in her throat, sending more smoke out her nostrils.

  The other SkyWing touched the little bag on her necklace, rolling it anxiously between her claws. “I don’t know, I mean, I have a terrible memory,” she said. “And an awful sense of direction.”

  “Just give it a try, please, Pyrite,” Riptide said. There was something in his voice that gave Winter the impression he’d spent a lot of time managing this particular dragon.

  Moon took the mini-scroll with her sketch out of the satchel around her neck and spread it out on a flat boulder, revealing the odd mountain shapes she’d drawn.

  Avalanche stomped over and glowered at the drawing for a moment. “Doesn’t look familiar,” she muttered.

  “All right,” Moon said with a sigh. “Thank you anyway.”

  “Can I go now?” Avalanche demanded, squinting at Riptide. He nodded, and she leaped into the sky, flapping away with noisy, powerful wingbeats.

  “Pyrite?” Riptide said, indicating the scroll.

  The thin SkyWing edged up to Moon, glanced quickly at the paper, then shook her head, saying, “Sorry, sorry, sorry. All trees look the same to me.”

  “It’s not a tree,” Moon said firmly, pinning Pyrite with her gaze before the SkyWing could retreat. “It’s a mountain, and you do recognize it. Tell us where it is.”

  Pyrite gave her a surprised, guilty look. Winter wondered whether he should warn Moon to hide her mind reading a bit better.

  “Oh … I suppose it’s a bit familiar,” Pyrite said, squinting at the sketch again. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually, um, do anything useful, so …”

  Winter already wanted to smack this dithering dragon. Hailstorm was out there somewhere, alone and trapped. If fidgety Pyrite thought she was going to be the one thing standing in Winter’s way, he had a tail full of spikes ready to convince her otherwise.

  “It’s all right, don’t be nervous,” Kinkajou said, her scales shifting to a warm golden color similar to Pyrite’s. “Anything you can tell us would be helpful.”

  “Well — I suppose it’s not too far away,” Pyrite admitted. “If I remember right, it’s southwest of the Sky Palace. Ish.”

  “Hmm,” Qibli said. “Can you be any more specific?”

  “Maybe you could help us find it,” Kinkajou suggested.

  “Oh dear, no,” Pyrite said, stammering and shuffling backward. “I couldn’t, I’m sure.”

  “Why are you looking for this place?” Cirrus suddenly demanded. Winter had almost forgotten he was there, but he’d somehow crept around until he could see the sketch over Pyrite’s shoulder. “What do you really want?”

  “It’s a fair question,” Riptide pointed out. “If you want Pyrite to go with you, we should all know what she’s flying into.”

  Winter liked the way Qibli looked to him, waiting for Winter to decide whether to reveal the truth.

  “We think this is where Queen Scarlet is hiding,” Winter said cautiously.

  Riptide sucked in a startled breath. Cirrus sank lower to the ground and hissed, his tail lashing furiously.

  But Pyrite turned shining eyes to Winter. “Queen Scarlet? She’s all right?” She picked up the drawing and held it close to her chest. “And you think she’s here? I’ll take you there if she’s there.”

  “I’m not sure that’s wise,” Cirrus growled.

  “Why would you get a vote?” Winter demanded. “She can help us if she wants to.” He had to admit to himself that he did not love the idea of a fervent Scarlet loyalist leading them to the queen. What if she betrayed them along the way? But perhaps if they kept their true mission a secret, they could still use her.

  “I can try,” Pyrite said. “I mean … I might get us lost, but
… I’ll do my best, for Queen Scarlet. I always do my best for her. Did, I mean.”

  She let out a little sigh, settling her wings.

  “Thank you,” Winter said.

  “I don’t like this,” Cirrus interjected. “What good could come of finding Queen Scarlet? What are you planning to do if she is there?” He suddenly gave Winter a sharp look. “Did you say Prince Winter?”

  “Mind your own business,” Winter snapped.

  “It’s all right, Cirrus,” Pyrite said. Twisting her claws together, she gave Winter an apologetic smile. “He kind of takes care of me. He’s just being protective.”

  Add that to the pile of weird mysteries about this IceWing, Winter thought. Why would he be so concerned about this rather annoying SkyWing? He can’t be in love with her, can he? Cirrus didn’t have anything loving about his demeanor. He didn’t even seem to particularly like Pyrite; he barely glanced at her when she spoke. He certainly didn’t look at her the way …

  … the way I look at Moon.

  Winter glanced across the clearing and finally admitted something to himself.

  Or the way Qibli looks at Moon.

  Did Moon look at either of them that way? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter — neither of them could be with her anyway. Not if they wanted to remain loyal to their queens and tribes.

  Stop thinking about this and focus on getting Hailstorm back.

  He stepped over to Pyrite and reached for the drawing in her claws. As she held it out, their talons briefly touched — and Winter felt a sudden weird shifting of the world, like something tugging apart his muscles from inside him.

  He froze, staring into the SkyWing’s innocent amber eyes. He’d felt something strange like this once before — at the tunnels in the rainforest, where magic had made the world not quite right.

  And if he felt the same twisting of magic when he touched her talons, that could only mean one thing.

  Pyrite must be an animus.

  Winter didn’t have a chance to tell the others his theory about Pyrite that day; as it turned out, she was not only a very nervous dragon, but she was also extremely clingy. As soon as Cirrus and Riptide were out of sight, she attached herself to Winter’s tail and followed him around as though he were made of delicious bear meat.

  Why he’d been chosen for this particular honor, Winter had no idea. Kinkajou and Qibli were much nicer to Pyrite than he was, and yet she got all flappy and anxious whenever they talked to her. Maybe she was simply used to having an IceWing watch out for her.

  And maybe Cirrus knows exactly what she is, Winter guessed. Maybe that’s why he’s so interested in her whereabouts. Maybe he’s planning to use her power for something.

  But what? What sort of sinister plans could a lone IceWing be hatching, brooding among the dwindling numbers of the Talons of Peace?

  Was he planning to deliver her to the IceWings — an animus to replace their long-lost Prince Arctic? In exchange for letting him back into the tribe?

  Cirrus didn’t seem to be in any hurry to get back to the Ice Kingdom, though. There must be a reason he left.

  What was he up to?

  It was also strange that Pyrite could possess such enormous magic and not be more sure of herself. Didn’t she know she was an animus? Had she ever used her power? How often, and what had she done with it?

  He glanced over his shoulder at where she was flying, barely a wingbeat behind him, casting fearful looks at the mountains below them. The first animus he’d ever met. She was not at all what he would have expected.

  “So, Pyrite,” Qibli said in a friendly voice, swooping up on her other side.

  Pyrite jerked away from him and nearly bowled Winter out of the sky. Her wings thwacked around his snout for a moment, and once again he got that twisty, ill feeling.

  He shoved her off him and righted himself. “Watch it,” he snapped.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she mumbled. She flicked her tail at Qibli. “You startled me.”

  Qibli made a “what is wrong with this dragon?” face at Winter. “I was just wondering how you ended up with the Talons of Peace,” he said. “You don’t exactly seem like the type to desert your wing and strike out into the wilderness on your own, looking for a band of rebels to join.”

  “Oh, no,” Pyrite said. “No, I’m not like that at all. I’m completely loyal. I would have kept fighting for Queen Scarlet as long as she needed me.” She stretched her long neck and scanned the ground below them again, then twitched her wings to steer them a little more westward. “But when Ruby took the throne, she made everyone swear an oath to her, and I couldn’t do that, you know? I’m completely loyal to Queen Scarlet. Always and always and always.”

  Winter noticed that Moon was frowning at Pyrite as if she were a book written in the language of narwhals. Had she also figured out that Pyrite was an animus? Could she see it in Pyrite’s mind?

  But if Scarlet had a “completely loyal” animus under her claws, why didn’t she use her to win the war?

  “So I left the Sky Palace and joined the Talons of Peace.” Pyrite sighed. “Sometimes I have dreams about Queen Scarlet telling me to come to her. But Cirrus always says to ignore them. He says it isn’t safe for me to go flapping around the continent looking for a dragon in exile, and that dreams don’t mean anything.” She smiled hopefully at Winter. “But this isn’t a wild-scavenger chase. You really think she’ll be there, right?”

  “I do,” Winter said, suddenly wondering if this was a terrible idea. Bringing Queen Scarlet a pet animus? How many ways could that go horribly wrong?

  Would Pyrite get in the way if they tried to save Hailstorm? What would she do if she knew that was their goal?

  They stopped to rest for the night in a valley dappled with clumps of small white flowers that made it look as though someone had been tossing down snowballs from the peaks around them. Qibli started a fire and cooked the squirrels Moon caught, while Winter got himself a fish from the stream and ate it raw. He couldn’t quite understand why anyone would want to scorch up their food before eating it, although it still sounded more appetizing than the wild cherries and plums Kinkajou had for dinner.

  Pyrite picked halfheartedly at her squirrel, her scales glowing in the firelight. Every time Winter looked over at her, he was sure she’d edged a little closer to him. She didn’t say much and barely seemed to be listening to Qibli as he told the story of the dragonets defeating Burn and Blister and giving the SandWing throne to Queen Thorn. He’d been there and seen the whole thing, and he was a compelling storyteller, too. Moon and Kinkajou were rapt, although they must have heard it all before.

  Finally everyone curled up to sleep, including Pyrite. Winter volunteered to keep the first watch, which was a concept that seemed to endlessly puzzle Kinkajou. Why did anyone have to stand guard, she’d asked the first night. Who would attack sleeping dragons? What did they have to fear, now that the war was over? And other such inane, typically RainWing-type questions.

  Darkness lay quietly over the valley. One of the moons was a sharp crescent just over the peaks, while the other two were a little more full and higher in the sky. Winter waited until Pyrite’s breathing was slow and steady, and then he carefully eased himself around the others to gently nudge Moon.

  She stretched her front talons and made a soft noise in her sleep, curling farther into her wings. He felt an almost unbearable longing to press himself against her scales and fall asleep with her star-speckled wings over his.

  “Moon,” Winter whispered, shaking her shoulder again.

  At last she opened her eyes and sat up, yawning. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “Is Pyrite truly asleep?” he asked as softly as he could.

  She listened for a moment, then nodded. Winter beckoned for her to follow him out of earshot of the others, to be safe. They stopped below a tree wrapped in blooming vines of moonflowers, pale ghost petals shivering in the breeze.

  “I think Pyrite is an animus,” Winter sa
id, coming straight to the point because he was afraid of what else he might say to Moon alone in the dark.

  “Oh … that’s interesting,” Moon said. “If she is, she doesn’t know it, or she never thinks about it. Wouldn’t that be strange? To know you have the most powerful magic in Pyrrhia and not think about it once all day? I’d imagine an animus would constantly be thinking, ‘I could just enchant this one thing and it would make my life easier.’ And, ‘but what if I go too far and lose my soul? Is this one thing worth it?’ All day, I would think, it would go back and forth. Maybe that’s just what my brain would do, though. In any case, I didn’t hear anything like that in Pyrite’s head.”

  “What do you think of her?” Winter asked.

  “Well … I feel sorry for her,” Moon said. She ran one claw lightly down the vine-wrapped trunk of the tree. “Her brain is very odd. It’s like her thoughts are stuck in a circle. I don’t know if she’s been hit on the head really hard or something, but they just go round and around: I’m completely loyal to Queen Scarlet. I’m not very good at anything. I’m glad I’m a SkyWing. I’m clumsy and not very bright and generally useless. And then back to, I’m completely loyal to Queen Scarlet.”

  “Maybe she isn’t very bright,” Winter suggested.

  “Or she’s worried about the same things so much for so long that her thoughts have worn grooves in her mind, where they keep spinning and spinning,” Moon said. “I don’t know. I haven’t read anyone like her before. It’s very … okay, this sounds weird, but it’s very shallow in there.”

  “Really,” Winter said. “You’ve been surrounded by RainWings but never met anyone shallow before?”

  Moon poked him with her tail. “That is a really narrow-minded view of RainWings,” she said. “You must have noticed that Kinkajou and Glory are anything but shallow.” She paused, then added with a small laugh, “Well, all right, there’s Coconut. I suppose he isn’t much deeper than Pyrite. But it still feels unusually weird in her head.”