Sunny’s heart thumped as they approached the tent. Should she try to run? Wasn’t it possible — even likely — that Thorn and the NightWings would team up to sell her to Burn? Thorn was the leader of a gang of criminals, after all.
Sunny wouldn’t get far in this city, though, not with the Outclaws after her. Even in a place full of SandWings, she’d stick out like a fire on a dark night. She tried to keep the memory of the hungry dragonet in her head as she ducked under the soft white flap of the tent. A leader of criminals who fed small dragons didn’t sound so bad. Maybe Thorn could be reasoned with.
The three NightWings were seated in a row on a bright orange carpet woven with alternating purple and white claw shapes. A skylight in the tent ceiling was positioned to shine a ray of sunlight down on them, beaming bright and hot straight into their faces. Sunny had a feeling that was deliberate. They were surrounded on all sides by SandWings, many of them rippling with scars or missing teeth, as if they’d fought hard for a place in this tent and weren’t planning to move anytime soon.
The only clear spot was at the far end of the tent, where a pile of woven sky-blue rugs was arranged on a dais. After a few moments, the sound of laughter came from outside, and five more SandWings pushed their way into the tent.
Sunny could tell which one was Thorn immediately, although she was smaller than the others, and she wasn’t wearing more treasure than anybody else. A solitary gold bracelet circled one of her upper forearms: a chain of flying dragons made from twisted wires. Around her neck hung a simple copper chain with a moonstone pendant — an odd jewel to find in the desert, Sunny thought.
Her scales were sandy yellow and dappled with a pattern of small brown speckles down her back and along her wings. She looked young — probably barely twenty years old, if Sunny had to guess. Most dragons grew quickly for the first seven years of their lives, and then a little bit each year after that, so the oldest dragons were usually the largest, like Morrowseer and Burn and Grandeur. But Thorn was wiry and compact and looked as if she might stay that way no matter how long she lived.
What was it that made her seem so clearly the leader of this group? She was laughing with the others as they came in, but she walked a step ahead of them, her wings half open and tilted forward as if she had somewhere to be, and her eyes scanning the room as if she were searching for something. She radiated an intense energy; even Sunny caught herself wanting to follow her wherever she went next.
The laughter dropped from Thorn’s eyes when she spotted the three NightWings. She curled her tail up threateningly before stalking around them and climbing onto the dais. Sunny was glad not to be the one under that glare.
“NightWings,” Thorn said darkly. “Well, well, well. We haven’t had any of you visit our fine city in about seven years.”
“Why would we?” Fierceteeth challenged. “We’re only here now because we want to make a deal with Burn.”
“We need someone to take her a message,” Strongwings added.
Thorn leaned forward. “That’s irrelevant to me. Where is Morrowseer?”
All three NightWings looked startled.
“You know Morrowseer?” Preyhunter stammered.
“Unfortunately,” Thorn growled. “Tell me where he is, and I’ll seriously consider not killing you.”
Preyhunter flared his wings and several Outclaws took a menacing step toward him. “You can’t kill us!” he protested. “We’re NightWings!”
“I assure you NightWings die just as easily as any other dragon,” Thorn said. “Would you like a demonstration?”
“No, no, no,” Strongwings said hurriedly. “We’ll tell you what we know.”
“In exchange for a messenger to Burn,” Fierceteeth interjected.
“In exchange for your lives,” Thorn countered calmly. “I’m not sending any of my Outclaws into that deathpit. Most of them are here expressly because they’re trying to avoid her.”
“But —” Fierceteeth started.
“Morrowseer’s dead,” Preyhunter blurted out. “He died just a few days ago.”
There was a terrible silence. One of the dragons who’d come in last took a step toward Thorn, reaching out tentatively, her expression a surprising mix of horror and sympathy.
Thorn’s face contorted into a fury like nothing Sunny had ever seen before. With a cry of rage, she leaped off the dais, seized Preyhunter by the throat, and flung him to the ground, where she pinned him with her claws and swung her tail over his heart.
Fierceteeth and Strongwings didn’t have time to react before Outclaws were there, holding them back. It wasn’t necessary, though; Sunny could see that they were too terrified to do anything to help Preyhunter.
“Ssssay that again,” Thorn hissed in Preyhunter’s face.
“H-he’s dead!” Preyhunter stammered. “Isn’t that good news? It sounded like you hated him — aren’t you glad he’s dead?”