<Of course.>
Stef and Whit began putting the harnesses onto the dragons, their movements stiff and careful. Sylph ducked around them, keeping the air warm, keeping the dragons from moving too suddenly. Several times, Stef tugged on a harness and asked the dragon if it was comfortable or if it hurt, and for a moment it seemed strange that she’d put so much care into the comfort of a dragon, but she was right: if the harnesses were awkward to fly with, we were in danger.
When they were done, I told Acid Breath where we needed to go, trying to describe Menehem’s lab as it might look from above. “There’s a huge metal building, a clearing, lots of forest—”
<I have seen it.>
“Oh. Great. That makes it easier, doesn’t it?” I tried to smile, but the dragon just glared at me.
Acid Breath held still while I climbed onto his back and settled astride him. He hissed a little as Sam climbed on after me, muttering in the back of his mind, but nothing more.
Sam sat behind me, both of us bundled in coats and extra layers, and with blankets tied around us like a cocoon so we could share body heat. We pulled scarves over our faces like masks, and then he wrapped his arms around me. We wouldn’t have sylph to keep us warm during the trip, and the dragon’s scales were like chips of ice.
“Don’t look down,” Sam said, loudly enough for me to hear through my hood and three hats. “It’s going to be dark, so you won’t see anything, but it will be easier if you don’t look.”
“I’m not afraid of heights.” I tried to snuggle closer to him, but we’d been so thoroughly secured I couldn’t move. We were already seated as close as possible, anyway. All the layers just made it seem far.
“I know. But this height—it can still be overwhelming. It might make you dizzy or confused about how you’re oriented, like when you’re in water and you can’t tell which way is up.”
All this rambling was an attempt to put himself at ease, distract himself from what we were about to do. How did he even know what it would be like? Maybe he was guessing. Or maybe he remembered from dying, being thrashed around in a dragon’s grip.
I wanted to double-check all our knots, but I doubted that would help his mood. Instead, I patted his knee. “When I was drowning in the lake, before you saved me”—he needed to remember his courage—“it was impossible to tell up from down. I wonder if it’s easier to fly at night, when you can’t see anything, or during the day, when you can see everything.”
“Depends, I think.” Sam hunched over me as muscles rippled and moved beneath us. “What’s more frightening? The known or unknown?”
Most people would say the unknown. I wasn’t sure what my answer was.
<We are ready.>
Indeed, Stef and Whit were strapped onto another dragon, their bags and the collapsed tent hanging from the bottom of the harness. It would sway, but Stef had done a good job securing everything tightly, so it would move very little.
Muscles coiled, fluttered against my legs and chest as I leaned over Acid Breath. From the corner of my eye, I could see enormous golden wings stretch out and shimmer in Stef’s flashlight. A network of bones and veins stood out when light shone through the leathery appendage. I couldn’t fathom how something so thin could be strong enough to lift an entire dragon, but during Templedark, I’d slid down a wing to escape a rooftop. The delicate flesh hadn’t split under my weight, as I’d feared.
The wings rose up, swooshed down. Air caught in a bubble, giving us a heartbeat of weightlessness. In our cocoon of blankets, Sam’s fingers jabbed against my clothes, against my ribs. I struggled to breathe evenly.
Thunder snapped as Acid Breath flapped his wings again. His body jerked lower—I bit back a yelp—and muscles bunched. <Hold tight,> he muttered in our heads, though there was nothing to hold on to but the blankets used as padding between us.
Wings beat faster, dragon thunder ripping through the air. He leapt, and my stomach dropped—
We thudded to the ground, trees crashing aside. He turned, galloped a few steps, flapped faster, and jumped again.
The air held us. Acid Breath’s muscles flexed and moved, nothing at all like the smooth gait of a horse. His body twisted and bent, snakelike.
Then I couldn’t think about that discomfort, only the sharp rise and the way he was suddenly vertical. I slid on the blanket, toward Sam. His grip on my ribs tightened, and something—his chin or forehead—dug against my back. I couldn’t hear anything but the wings pounding on air.
We slid. Screaming, I reached forward, but my mittened hands glided along slick scales. No chance of holding on.
I had no clue how high we were, but with frigid air and snow stinging my eyes, stealing my breath, I easily imagined the terror of a free fall.