“Retreat!” a voice suddenly howled. Reed’s heart jumped hopefully, thinking the IceWings were giving up — but then he realized it was the SandWing general. “Retreat!” the sand dragon yelled again.
Reed thought they might defeat the IceWings if they kept fighting, but it wasn’t worth the risk. Every moment was another opportunity for an IceWing to kill one of his brothers or sisters. Retreating meant keeping them alive.
“Retreat,” he echoed the general, grabbing Umber and pulling him back. “Fall back! Pheasant, you too!” He scanned the struggling shapes in the moonlight and picked out his troop: all still alive, for now.
His sister sank her teeth into her opponent’s forearm and he released her with a shriek of pain. In a flash she was at Reed’s side, and they soared up into the sky with Marsh, Sora, and Umber right beside them.
Reed saw the SandWings take off toward the mountains. Most of the IceWings shot after them; only two turned to pursue him and his siblings.
“This way!” he cried, diving for the forest. If IceWings could hide in there, so could his dragons. He wasn’t obligated to follow the SandWings — they’d probably make a run for the Sky Palace anyway. And he didn’t want to lead the IceWings back to his village.
Pine branches whipped against his face as he hit the trees. His brothers and sisters had practiced a formation like this, zipping through an overgrown forest while staying together. He had to trust that they’d remember and be close behind him.
He heard the sound of thrashing wings farther back and risked a glance over his shoulder. Even in the shadows, he recognized the shape of how his brothers and sisters flew; they were all there. It must be the IceWings who’d gotten caught in the upper branches.
Reed took a chance and landed. The others dropped to the ground with him, and they all immediately flattened themselves with wings outstretched, becoming puddles of shadow on the dark forest floor.
Silence fell. No one breathed. The branches creaked overhead, and small night animals skittered through the bushes around them. Reed felt a squirrel dart over his foot, but he didn’t move a muscle.
After a long while, they heard a faraway whistle and the sound of wings in the distance, as if the IceWings had reassembled to fly away.
Reed still didn’t move. He waited for almost an hour, until he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, until any and all dragon noises had faded long ago.
Then, very carefully and quietly, he inhaled. He heard the others do the same.
“Is anyone hurt?” Reed asked softly.
“That was awful,” Marsh whispered. “I thought we were all going to die.”
“I’m fine,” Pheasant said. “Nothing that won’t heal soon.”
“I’m all right, too,” Sora said hoarsely.
“Umber?” Reed said when the smallest dragonet didn’t respond.
“I hate this war,” Umber burst out. “I don’t understand what we’re even fighting for. Who cares who the SandWing queen is? I’ve never met Burn and I don’t want to. Why am I fighting an IceWing over a throne that has nothing to do with either of us?”
“Because our queen says we have to,” Pheasant said, with a little more sarcasm than Reed thought was safe, even if there was no one to overhear.
“Queen Moorhen must have a good reason for allying with Burn and the SkyWings,” Reed said. “We shouldn’t doubt her.”
“Besides, the war will be over soon,” Sora said unexpectedly. She hardly ever spoke, and she’d spoken even less since Crane’s death. Reed turned and saw her eyes reflecting the glow of the moonlight. “Clay is going to end it.”
There was something about the way she said Clay’s name that made Reed want to sink into a mud puddle and stay there for a month. She sounded as if she believed in him so much — a dragon they’d barely met. They followed Reed and they loved him, he knew that. But surely they must wonder what could have been … and whether Crane might still be alive if Clay were their bigwings all along.
“That’s true,” Umber said, lifting his head. “Clay and his friends — they’re going to save us soon.”
“How soon?” Marsh asked. “I thought the prophecy said twenty years — doesn’t that mean two more years before they end the war?”
“Actually,” Pheasant said, “some dragons think it depends on when you start counting. If you count from the first battle, then it’s only been eighteen years. But if you go back to the death of Queen Oasis, which is really when this whole thing started, then it’s been almost twenty.” She caught the tilt of Reed’s head and shrugged. “I’ve been reading about the prophecy since we realized Clay is in it.”
There was a pause as they all had their own thoughts about Clay, the war, and the prophecy.
“If you’re all unhappy,” Reed said tentatively, “we could — I mean, we could try to find the Talons of Peace.”
Pheasant let out a shocked hiss. “I may not like this war, but that doesn’t mean we should leave our tribe and our home. We’re MudWings. We belong in our village.”