That sounded a little ridiculous to Sunny — if the queen of the MudWings couldn’t do as she’d asked, then what chance did anyone have? But she didn’t say that. She bowed and stepped back.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said instead.
“Good luck,” said the queen. “You’re very small to be in charge of saving the world.”
“And weird-looking,” Sunny agreed. “But we can do it if everyone helps.”
“Hmmm.” Queen Moorhen pulled her wings in close and stared down at the mud-covered bodies of her brothers and sisters all around her. “Maybe.”
As Sunny lifted the dreamvisitor away from her head, stepping out of the dream, she thought she heard the queen whisper one last thing.
“I hope so.”
Sunny was tired after visiting the queen’s dream, but she made herself step into the dreams of the royal siblings next. Three brothers and one sister, all of them having similar anxiety dreams, most of them about Queen Moorhen dying in some awful way. One of the brothers was having such a terrible nightmare that Sunny wasn’t able to get through to him at all, but the others saw her, and they seemed to listen to what she said. They each answered that it was up to Moorhen to make the decision, but Sunny had a feeling the queen would listen to her siblings more than any other advisors she might have, and if they could persuade her … well, it was worth the chance.
After that, as she and Clay were walking back through the camp, past so many sleeping dragons, she stopped, brushing his wing with hers.
“We can do more,” she said. “Not all of them, but … if even a few dragons talk about having dream messages from us, maybe that’ll make a difference.”
“Aren’t you tired?” Clay asked. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
There had been a lot of exhausting flying lately, more than she was used to, and all she wanted was to curl up under Clay’s wing and sleep for the next month. But that was not an option.
“I can do it,” she assured him.
“Let me do some, too,” he said, holding out his talons. “You can rest while I do that.”
They chose sleeping dragons at random, standing in the shadows nearby and dropping lightly into their dreams. Most of them were nightmares; there were nightmares all through the camp. Sometimes Sunny could break through and show them they were dreaming, and then they would listen. She kept her messages brief: The war is almost over. No more killing. Don’t go to the Ice Kingdom. The war will be over soon. You can help. Stop fighting. Spread the word.
They found Reed and the others again as early morning light was beginning to creep across the camp. Umber, Marsh, and Sora were fast asleep in a pile of tails and wings, but Pheasant and Reed were awake, watching for them with matching anxious expressions.
“We did our best,” Clay whispered, pressing their talons in his. “Hopefully you’ll get new orders soon.”
“But we should go before we’re seen,” Sunny said.
“Do you want to come with us?” Clay asked.
Reed sighed and looked at his sleeping brothers and sister. “No. I mean, I do, but we are loyal to the queen, and we don’t want to be fugitives. I wish I could at least give you Umber or Marsh, but they won’t leave the rest of us. We stick together. That’s our way.”
“I’m sorry,” Clay said reluctantly. “I wish I could stay. If you do have to fight … I wish I could be there with you.”
“Me too,” Reed admitted in a low voice.
Pheasant shook her head but didn’t say anything. She nudged the others awake, and they each hugged Clay good-bye.
“See you soon,” Sunny said, trying to sound more hopeful than she felt.
“Be safe,” Clay said. “I’m glad you have Reed.” He wrapped his wings around his brother again, and then he and Sunny hurried off through the camp, toward the safety of the mountains. They stayed on the ground, afraid that the guards would spot them if they flew this close to the camp.
Most of the campfires were now just dying embers, but a few had been rebuilt and the smell of roasting meat and smoke floated through the pre-dawn air. Birds fluttered and chirped in the trees at halfhearted intervals, as if they weren’t sure they should be awake yet. Sunny’s eyes ached and her wings had never felt heavier.
They had reached the scrub brush on the hills overlooking the camp when Sunny heard a different sound coming from behind them. Not the rustling and stamping of dragons or the clanking of weapons.
She heard singing.
Oh, the dragonets are coming …
“Clay,” she whispered. “Do you hear that? Am I imagining it?”
He stopped and lifted his head to listen.
They’re coming to save the day …
Voices in the camp below — more than one, in different parts of the camp. The MudWings were singing.