Moon Rising, Page 9

  A furry smell caught her attention, and she spun to study the ground. There — a mountain goat clambering between two rocks, behind a screen of straggly bushes.

  Moon glanced around, but Tsunami and most of the others were circling over a glassy lake, looking for fish. The closest dragon to Moon was Qibli, who was trying extremely hard to seem as if he wasn’t watching her. Carnelian was within shouting distance, drifting on her vast wings, but Moon wasn’t about to do any shouting, and certainly not to get the grumpy SkyWing’s attention.

  Guess that means this goat is mine, she thought with a tiny bit of glee.

  Swooping suddenly into a dive, Moon plummeted down toward the ground. Below her, the goat saw her shadow coming and let out a bleating scream of fear. It scrambled quickly up the rocks and tried to leap into a narrow ravine, where dragons would not be able to follow.

  But it wasn’t fast enough. Moon twisted in a quick spiral and snatched the goat in midair, whisking it back up into the sky and killing it in one motion with a squeeze of her claws.

  “Wow!” Qibli shouted from above her. “How did you do that? Carnelian, did you see that?”

  The SkyWing flew closer, eyeing the dead goat jealously. “I thought NightWings didn’t know how to hunt.”

  “I thought so, too,” Kinkajou chimed in. The RainWing sailed up from a bramble-covered slope. Her snout was stained with dark purple blackberry juice. “Starflight told me they do this thing where they bite their prey and then wait for it to die of infection and then they sniff it out and eat the dead things. It sounds super horrible, like, even worse than regular hunting.”

  “Gross,” Qibli agreed.

  “They’re not supposed to do that anymore,” Moon said. “Glory and Deathbringer are teaching them how to hunt properly. And I just, I, um — taught myself to hunt in the rainforest…. Mother was always leaving me alone, so … I kind of had to.” She held out the goat. “Um — maybe we can share it?”

  “Really?” Qibli said. “That would be great. I’m going to need more practice to figure out how to hunt here. The land is all folded and squiggly. Too many hiding places. Give me a big flat desert and some half-asleep sunbathing lizards any day.”

  Moon guessed it wouldn’t take him long to master hunting in the mountains. His eyes were darting across the landscape below them and he was storing away observations in neat stacks in his mind. He was also trying to gauge whether she meant it about sharing the goat, and whether she’d like him better if he was self-sufficient or if he accepted her offer with appropriate gratitude.

  “I can catch my own food,” Carnelian said stiffly. She swung away, broadcasting offended thoughts. Moon winced.

  “Nice work, Moon,” Tsunami called. “We’ve caught a few things, too. Let’s take all this back to the prey center and eat there.” Another SeaWing, this one a blue-green adult dragon with a scar on his side, had joined them with a net, which was now full of squirming fish. He hefted it in his talons and nodded to Tsunami, who tilted her wings and soared back toward Jade Mountain.

  The others followed her, one by one, with Moon flapping slowly at the back. The goat was heavy; it smelled of meat and the blood that had left dark red streaks on her claws. But the thought of going back into the prey center was enough to make her lose her appetite. The noise, the memory of everyone staring at her … She was tempted to get lost on the way.

  If you are always cowering in a cave alone, you’ll be wasting your powers completely, the voice muttered.

  Easy for you to say, Moon shot back. Clearly you don’t get splitting headaches every time you walk into a crowd.

  Why has no one taken care of you? the voice wondered. Even if the skills are lost, there must be scrolls about coping techniques.

  No one thinks I need scrolls like that, even if they do still exist, Moon pointed out. If anyone found out what I can do, I’d probably be thrown out of the tribe. I’d definitely be thrown out of school. I’d probably be thrown off the peak of Jade Mountain, or into the ocean. This is not a popular power to have right now, is what I’m trying to say.

  You don’t need to be popular if you’re powerful. The voice chuckled. Then it stilled for a moment, and added musingly, Although perhaps a little more popularity would have been helpful in my situation. Another thoughtful pause. In any case, listen and perhaps I can help.

  I’m listening.

  Imagine the sound of ocean waves.

  I’ve never heard ocean waves, Moon admitted.

  What? the voice demanded. Were you raised under a mountain? Fine, then — some other repetitive, soothing noise.

  Moon caught a wind current and tilted her wings, shifting the goat’s weight between her talons. Would rain work?

  Yes. Exactly. Fill your head with rain.

  Moon thought of all the long, lonely days and nights she’d spent hidden in her fern burrow, listening to the rain patter on the leaves all around her. Watching the raindrops slowly drip from the ends of the curled fronds onto her tail. Wishing she could hear the approaching whoosh of her mother’s wings instead.

  You tragic little dragon, the voice said sympathetically.

  I’m not a tragic little dragon, Moon protested. I’m lucky. I didn’t have to grow up on the volcano. Mother saved me.

  Mmmmm. She seems to have a lot of opinions about what’s best for you, none of which involve finding out your preferences first. Before Moon could defend her mother, he went on. Now hold on to that falling rain sound, and then imagine that you’re taking each voice you hear and slipping it inside one of the raindrops. Do that as you enter a cave full of dragons, and after a minute all their insignificant mental howling will be drowned in the downpour.

  Moon concentrated for a minute.

  The voice chuckled in her mind again. Oh, it won’t work with mine, dragonet. I’m not so easily submerged. Go try it on that yammering RainWing, or the frenetically intelligent, strangely desperate SandWing.

  Moon wanted to ask what he meant by calling Qibli desperate, but she could see the opening to the prey center below her. Winter and Turtle were already gliding down to the entrance, and beyond them she could see the flash of scales and milling tails; the prey center was as busy today as yesterday, if not more so. She needed to master this new trick right away.

  She beat her wings to soar closer to Kinkajou, whose mind was going, I wonder what we’ll do after lunch — oo, maybe reading practice! Or history! Or music! Sunny says the SandWings are a surprisingly musical tribe. Kind of hard to imagine Qibli singing, I must say. Ha ha, imagine Winter singing! I wonder if he can scowl and sing and look darkly handsome and mortally offended all at the same time. Probably. Oh, I have to remember to take Tamarin to where the blackberry bushes are. I hope Glory visits us soon.

  Moon imagined collapsing Kinkajou’s thoughts into a raindrop and whisking them into the quiet background storm.

  It almost seemed to work, until Kinkajou spotted her, turned pink, and grinned. Her mind went, MOON! She’s so funny. All quiet on the outside but secretly a total fierce-face.

  It is more difficult when the thoughts are specifically about you, the voice in Moon’s head pointed out. And easier when there are many voices at once. This works best in a crowded room, not so well in a two-dragon conversation. Also, it takes practice.

  I’ll practice, Moon vowed. She angled her wings and swooped down toward the prey center, side by side with Kinkajou. The hubbub of thoughts rose up to envelop her.

  Totally hungry …

  Why must I be in the same cave as her?

  What did I just eat?

  If that MudWing makes ONE MORE grotesque slurping noise —

  The dragonets weren’t in the war; it’s easy for them to talk about forgiveness.

  This papaya tastes boring. I guess I normally like papaya. But this one is sort of boring all the way through. Like eating water. Boring water. I wonder when it will be sun time. Maybe I should try a different papaya after this one. But what if the next papaya is boring, to
o?

  That last train of thought was clearly coming from Coconut. Moon seized his thoughts and slid them into the sound of rain in her mind.

  It worked! She waited a minute to be sure she couldn’t hear him anymore, and then did a delighted flip in the sky before landing outside the cave.

  Kinkajou laughed. “You look happy all of a sudden.”

  “Just figuring something out,” Moon said. Coconut and his meaningless thoughts were one thing; they were practically background noise already. She reached out to grab the nearest SeaWing’s thoughts — Webs brought us fish! I could eat his tail, I’m so hungry! — and tried the same trick.

  Her mental voice melted into the noise like just another raindrop.

  This is amazing, Moon thought. Thank you.

  It is the first trick a mind reading dragonet learns, the voice said. Otherwise they could go mad. You should have had these lessons soon after hatching. It is rather a wonder you’re as tenuously sane as you are.

  Very funny, Moon thought back. But seriously, I was alone most of the time, so it was never this bad before. Luckily I didn’t need to shut out the sloths and toucans.

  She noticed Kinkajou watching her curiously. “Are you all right?” the RainWing asked. “You looked like your head was taking a walk on one of the moons for a minute.”

  “What does that look like?” Moon asked.

  Kinkajou’s scales turned purplish-black; she wrinkled her nose and gave the tip of the mountain a glassy-eyed stare.

  “Talons and tails,” Moon said, giggling, “please tell me I don’t really make that face.”

  “FISH!” shouted several dragons inside the prey center. The SeaWing with the net had dropped it on the cave floor, leaving large silver fish flopping across the stone. A horde of dragons descended on it at once.

  Moon and Kinkajou edged past the flapping mass of wings and found a spot near the river where Moon could slice up her goat while Kinkajou raided the fruit pile. Raindrops, Moon thought, battling the noise in her head. She took a deep breath. It’s all raindrops.

  She was concentrating so hard that she jumped when Qibli swept up and sat down next to her.

  “Sorry,” he said, tilting his wings away from her. “You said — the goat, remember? But if you changed your mind, no worries; I can go wrestle for a fish instead.” Another fish, how unappealing. Not sure I’ll ever get used to slimy wet sea creatures sliding down my throat. But I don’t want her to think I can’t feed myself — maybe I’m not that hungry —

  “No, of course, here,” Moon said. She used her claws to slice away half of the goat and pushed it toward him.

  “I could totally get a fish away from all those dragons,” Qibli informed her. “In case you were wondering. If living in the rainforest on your own makes you good at hunting, then let me tell you, being a dragonet in the Scorpion Den with a family who hates you makes you really good at stealing, fighting, scrounging, and tricking dragons into looking the other way while you nab their roasted camels.”

  “Why did your family hate you?” Moon asked.

  “Oh.” He looked awkward for a minute. “They sort of hate everyone. It’s no big deal.”

  Moon could sense that it had certainly been a big deal for the first three years of his life, at least. The pace of his conscious thoughts slowed for a moment, and she caught a flash of his mother, a large SandWing with snakelike patterns down her spine, hissing at tiny Qibli and two other, bigger dragonets. She saw his brother and sister beating him and threatening him with their venomous tails, just to steal his talonful of date palms. She saw an old male SandWing, radiating authority, stalking through to inspect them with beady black eyes. She saw little Qibli offering a stolen coconut to his mother, his face hopeful, and she saw him thrown against a wall for weakness instead.

  None of that was going to fit in a raindrop.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Qibli, and then gasped with sudden pain. She couldn’t stop herself from doubling over as a new vision blistered through her mind.

  This wasn’t a passing memory. Those were always a little blurred and jumbled together with the dragon’s other thoughts.

  But visions like this, scenes of the future, came bright and clear, even if just for a moment, usually along with a lightning-sharp headache.

  In this one, the same old SandWing loomed over Qibli, his snout twisted with hatred. Behind him hulked Qibli’s brother and sister, now fully grown and even more menacing, wearing medallions etched with some kind of bird. Qibli curled his tail up dangerously and shouted, “Where is she?” into their sneering faces.

  “Hey,” she heard his voice saying in the real world. “Whoa. What happened? Moon? Everything all right?”

  Moon blinked, shaking the vision away. The pale gray walls of the prey center came back into focus around her. Bright sunlight reached across the floor to glint off Qibli’s amber earring; one of his talons was resting lightly on hers, and his mind was spiraling with curiosity and concern.

  “Yes, sorry, it’s nothing,” she said. “I get these headaches. It’s gone now. Sorry … you were saying, about your family?”

  Does she really want to know? Qibli wondered. Or is she distracting me? Should I be worried? Headaches like that don’t sound normal. Thorn took swordleaf root for her headaches; I wonder if I can find some of that for Moon. My family — she doesn’t need to know all the horrible details. It’s all sand in the wind now anyway.

  He shrugged casually. “I joined the Outclaws when I was three, and Mother was happy to shove me out the door. The best news of my life is that I’ll never have to see any of my family ever again.”

  But that’s not true, Moon realized. Not according to her vision. If that was really the future, then Qibli’s awful family wasn’t done with him yet. What did they want from him? Who was the old male SandWing? And who was the “she” Qibli had been asking about? His mother? Thorn?

  I wish I could warn him.

  I wish I could save him.

  Moon turned back to her lunch with a sigh. If only she lived in a world where dragons weren’t afraid of her powers — where she could tell everyone about them without losing her new friends. A world where they’d believe her and wouldn’t hate her for what she could do. If only the NightWings hadn’t ruined everything with their centuries of lies.

  Then I could do some good with everything rattling around in my brain. I could use it to help dragons, couldn’t I?

  Her mystery voice didn’t respond.

  I have to go to the library, Moon remembered. Maybe I can’t help Qibli, but if I can find out about the dreamvisitors and figure out whom I heard last night … maybe I can still save someone.

  “I should go,” Moon said to Kinkajou as soon as the RainWing came back from the fruit pile.

  “No!” Kinkajou cried. “We’re eating together! You haven’t even finished your hairy smelly carcass thing! Sit!” She nudged Moon back to sitting. “Just for five minutes,” she wheedled.

  Moon wanted to argue, but there was a thread of anxiety in Kinkajou’s mind — Don’t leave me alone, please stay and be my best friend — that she couldn’t resist.

  “Sure, OK,” she said, and was rewarded with glowing pink scales.

  “Can you tone that down?” Umber asked Kinkajou as he and Turtle joined them, each carrying a fish. “I mean, it’s a very exciting color that I can’t say I’ve ever seen before, but it’s a little —”

  “Bright,” suggested Turtle.

  “Noticeable?” tried Umber.

  “Eyeball-scorching,” offered Qibli.

  “This happens when I’m happy,” Kinkajou said, unruffled. “But if you’d prefer something more sedate —” She turned a vibrant shade of lime green splashed with violet spots. Moon nearly choked on her goat.

  “Aaaah!” Qibli yelped, covering his eyes.

  “I don’t actually know you,” Umber said to Kinkajou. “You might be totally serious right now.”

  “No, I’m just kidding,” Kinkajou sai
d with a giggle, bumping Moon’s side again. “I can be totally ordinary and boring, don’t worry.” Her scales shifted again, rippling to the same quiet brown as Umber’s, and she gave him a wide-eyed, “see? boring” stare.

  “Boring hasn’t exactly made it onto my list of words to describe you,” Moon said.

  “Winter!” Kinkajou shouted.

  The IceWing paused in the act of sweeping majestically past them. “Yes?” he said frostily to Kinkajou.

  “Don’t you want to sit with us?” Kinkajou asked. “I mean, since we’re your winglet now, and everything.” A wave of ice blue shimmered across her scales and then vanished again. Moon tried and failed to stuff all the dreamy thoughts from Kinkajou’s head into a raindrop.

  Winter looked down his nose at the RainWing. “Absolutely not,” he said, and stalked away toward another IceWing perched on a ledge slightly above the rest of the dragons.

  “He’s so tortured,” Kinkajou sighed happily.

  “You’re a little weird,” Moon pointed out.

  Kinkajou was about to reply when a hush fell over the cave. They all twisted around and saw Anemone pace slowly through the door with her head held high, followed by a thin, quiet-looking SandWing.

  The SeaWing princess, rippled through everyone’s minds.

  “Oh, thank the moons,” Anemone said, spotting the net of fish, her voice clear and high. “I haven’t eaten since we left Queen Moorhen’s palace yesterday.” She stepped delicately around a SandWing who was chewing something on the floor, and surveyed the few small fish that hadn’t been claimed yet. A number of MudWings, SeaWings, and SkyWings were clustered nearby, brown and green and red scales side by side as they ate.

  “Hmmm. I’d like that one,” Anemone said sweetly. She pointed at a giant gray fish with a pale, speckled pink belly. A NightWing — the one Moon didn’t know — already had his claws around it and was lifting it to his mouth. He paused and stared at her.