Sunny kept her distance, choosing the tallest tree she could find and tucking herself among the branches, close to the trunk. She fixed her eyes on where the NightWings had gone down and pricked her ears. She could hear their distant muttering, with Fierceteeth the most distinct. It sounded as if they were planning to sleep for as much of the day as they could and then fly on at dusk.
They’ve been breathing volcanic ash and living on dying, rotting scraps, probably for their whole lives, Sunny thought. No wonder they’re not exactly in great shape.
After a while, the trees stopped rustling and the dragon voices fell silent. A few minutes later, one of them — Sunny guessed Strongwings — started snoring like a herd of congested hippos.
Now what do I do? Sunny wondered. This was a perfect opportunity to wreck their plans, if she could figure out how. Could I fly to the RainWing village and get back with reinforcements before they wake up?
No. It would take me all day just to get someone to pay attention to me. I can do this myself. I have to.
What would Tsunami do? Would she go down there and kill them?
I don’t think I could do that — even if I could do that.
Sunny sighed. A breeze whispered through the trees, curling under her wings as if inviting her to fly. Yesterday I wouldn’t have worried about what was going to happen next with Fierceteeth and the others. I’d be able to follow them knowing for sure that whatever I did would turn out all right.
She hated Morrowseer for making her feel this way — this awful doubting feeling. He’d planted this worry, which she’d never had before, that maybe things wouldn’t be all right. That in fact she could die, and the war might go on endlessly, and perhaps there wasn’t a happy ending all planned out by the universe.
She had to stop thinking about Morrowseer and the prophecy. It was like stabbing icicle-sharp claws between her scales every time she pictured the haughty black dragon sneering about his great lies.
Stupid NightWings and their deceitful all-knowing high-and-mighty —
Sunny sat up so fast she nearly fell off her tree branch.
All-knowing.
There was one thing she could do to slow the NightWings down.
She could steal the Obsidian Mirror.
This was one of those ideas that Sunny’s friends would totally ignore if she suggested it, but would love like crazy if it came from Clay or Tsunami. It was also something they would never, ever let her do herself. Too dangerous! Too risky! Send a dragon with fighting skills or camouflage scales. Not their undersized, cheerful, silly little sister.
Well, I’m the only one here. And I know I can do it.
She waited until the sun was halfway up the sky, and then she carefully worked her way closer, hopping from tree to tree and giving herself as much cover as she could. There were a few spots where she was exposed and her golden scales caught the light, but when she finally came to rest on a branch within sight of the NightWings, all three of them were sleeping soundly.
Starflight said there were never any NightWing guards posted in their fortress. They’re used to being so isolated that no one could find them to attack them. It didn’t even occur to them to leave someone awake to keep watch.
She snorted. They probably also figured no one would dare attack a group of amazing all-powerful NightWings.
Fierceteeth was curled in the curve of Strongwings’s underbelly, with her tail draped over his and her head resting on his shoulder. Sunny had no idea how Fierceteeth could sleep through those tree-rattling snores.
Preyhunter lay closer to the river, scrunched into a tight, tense ball, with his wings tucked close to him. In the daylight, Sunny could see how dull his scales were and how ill they all looked. Even Strongwings, who was built large and burly, looked underfed, and his snores rasped heavily as if his lungs and throat and nose were lined with claws.
Sunny studied the ground around Preyhunter until she spotted a corner of black glass sticking out from under one of his wings. He was keeping the Obsidian Mirror very close.
How can I get it without waking him up?
She glanced at the other two again, then quietly slid down her tree until her talons touched the grass. The river bubbled over smooth gray rocks, not much more than a stream. Small purple wildflowers bent under her claws as Sunny tiptoed over to the sleeping NightWing.
He looked miserable, even in his sleep. His jaw was clenched, his talons twitched defensively, and his forked black tongue flickered in and out as he muttered something to himself. When Sunny crouched beside him, she realized he was shivering.
I guess it was pretty hot, living on a volcano. The air didn’t feel cold to her, here on the outskirts of the jungle, but perhaps he wasn’t used to it. Or perhaps he was sick.