Dangerous Gift Read online

  “But I just ADORE scavenger — uh, chewing,” he said. He made a weird, grimacey face. “Chewing scavengers. Meat! Yum. Want to eat them allllllllll day, chomp chomp, yes.”

  “So go hunt down one of your own,” Snowfall said. Somehow the more he talked, the less she believed he actually wanted to eat the scavenger.

  “I would,” he said, “but I …” He trailed off and shot a panicked look at the bushes. “Um. Don’t … want to?”

  Snowfall propped her chin on her front talons. This was the most entertainingly strange thing that had happened to her in days.

  “You’d rather buy a scavenger that’s not for sale than go catch your own.”

  “Could it be for sale?” he said hopefully. “I have blueberries!”

  Snowfall laughed. “Winter is not going to sell you his pet, even for all the blueberries in the world.”

  “Oh!” he said. “Ohh!” He shot a look at the bushes like, “I told you so, bushes!” “She’s a pet? Not for chewy delicious eating?”

  Snowfall couldn’t begin to guess why this dragon spoke so oddly now and then. “Yup, it’s a pet,” she said. “My cousin loves these critters. He’s been trying to catch a good one for ages.”

  “And she’s a good one?” he said, looking as pleased as if she’d complimented him.

  “Well, she’s energetic,” Snowfall said, peeking over at her again. The scavenger was leaning innocently against the far wall, spinning a stick in her paws. “And Winter says she’s a good mimic — she’s made some very dragonlike noises at him. Which made him think she’s terribly clever.”

  The stranger gave a little snort of laughter. “Hmmm,” he said. “What if she … doesn’t want to be his pet?”

  Snowfall tilted her head at him. “Well, we can’t exactly ask her! I’m sure she’s perfectly happy. He feeds her, like, twice a day.”

  “What if I gave him a different pet? A better pet!” the odd dragon suggested with a triumphant flourish of his wings.

  “I am quite sure he —”

  “How about a SNAIL?!” the dragon cried, with a kind of rapturous delight Snowfall had only ever seen on dragonets tasting ice cream for the first time.

  “A snail,” Snowfall echoed.

  “Snails are AMAZING!” he said adoringly. “Have you SEEN them?”

  “I … have seen snails, yes,” she said. Queen Coral had served sea snails during her visit to the Kingdom of the Sea, but Snowfall had a feeling this dragon’s heart would explode if she told him that.

  “Or a TURTLE!” he shouted. “I could give him a turtle! Awwww, don’t you love turtles? With their little flippery flippers! And their sweet little shells! And their tiny heads HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR TINY HEADS? They look like they’re smiling! Little tiny turtle smiles! Wouldn’t he love a turtle?”

  “He would not,” Snowfall said positively. “I must say it sounds like you should get a turtle, though.”

  “Yes,” he said dreamily. “That is exactly what I have been saying.” He shot another “did you hear that, bushes?” look at the shrubbery.

  “How about you go get a turtle, then,” Snowfall said, “and leave this scavenger to my obsessed cousin.”

  “Oh,” he said, shaking his head as if he’d completely forgotten what he was there for. “Right, no, no, I would like this scavenger very much. This one, please.”

  The bushes behind him made some highly suspicious squeaking noises. Snowfall squinted at them. Did he already have a scavenger? Maybe he collected them. Maybe he was Winter’s dream friend.

  “If you’re so interested in scavengers, wait and talk to Winter about them,” she suggested. “He can tell you everything he’s learned from studying them, if you have twenty days to listen to some outlandish theories.”

  “Can’t I please have this scavenger?” he said with enormous, baby-seal eyes. “Please please please?”

  “Being cute doesn’t work on me! Nice try!” she barked. “I am the queen of the IceWings, and I have told you no!”

  “Queen of the what? Really?” he said.

  “Yes, really! How do you not know that?” She lashed her tail. “The settlement is full of queens right now! So you should practice being a little less adorable and a little more respectful, you — what the heck are you anyway? A hybrid of what?” A startling thought struck her. Could he possibly be an IceWing-SkyWing hybrid?

  “Not a hybrid,” he said. “Just a funny-looking SkyWing.” He turned and hissed at the bushes. “She thinks I’m adorable.”

  “I DO NOT, three moons. Who are you talking to?”

  “No one!” he blurted. “Sorry! Nothing! Never mind, I am not needing the scavenger after all, everything great, nice to meet you, bye forever!”

  He turned and bolted into the woods; there was a bit more thrashing around in the greenery, and then Snowfall saw his tail darting away through the trees.

  Weirdest dragon of all time! But she had to admit this feeling of amusement and slight confusion was preferable to the overwhelming anxiety she normally lived in. She wouldn’t mind being distracted from the end of the world by him again.

  Shaking her head, she glanced over to check the enclosure.

  She should have noticed that it had gotten very quiet.

  She should have been more suspicious of the scavenger standing so still for once.

  She might have guessed that the scavenger had been standing right there to hide the new hole in the fence.

  If she had, she might have caught the scavenger before it escaped — but it was too late.

  Winter’s pet was gone.

  “Oh, walruses,” Snowfall hissed. This was the last thing she needed to deal with right now.

  She flew down into the enclosure and marched around it, double-checking. Yes, Pumpkin was absolutely gone. The hole was just big enough for a scavenger, partly tunneled under the fence and partly hacked out of the wood.

  Outside the fence, there was a scramble of marks in the dirt where the scavenger would have emerged, but it was hard to tell what kinds of marks they were.

  Hang on.

  Was that dragon distracting me so he could steal her?

  But he hadn’t moved from his spot while they talked, so he must have had an accomplice. Another dragon? Why would two dragons go to all the trouble of stealing one scavenger who was barely enough of a meal for one of them?

  Snowfall frowned at the marks in the dirt. She didn’t see anything that looked like a talon or tail had made it. And the scavenger must have been digging from her side, too — unlucky that she escaped right into a dragon’s claws. If that’s what happened.

  This really made no sense.

  Snowfall sighed deeply. She should probably go into the forest and try to catch that dragon, just in case he did have Pumpkin.

  Grumbling to herself, she set off into the trees. Should I wait for my guards? No, she could handle an overly smiley dragon who went into raptures over turtles, no problem. Ooo, especially if she used her STEALTH ARMBANDS. She set them gleefully to make herself invisible and darted in the direction where she’d last seen his tail.

  It didn’t take long before she heard his voice burbling away up ahead. Snowfall slowed to a stealthier pace and crept toward him. He sounded utterly insane. Whatever he was saying was half words, half yips and chitters and meeping noises, as if his brain kept turning into a chipmunk mid-sentence.

  She slipped through the trees to get ahead of him, which wasn’t hard, as he was just ambling along chatting to thin air. There were clearly no other dragons with him, so perhaps his accomplice had gone in a different direction. Or perhaps she was wrong and this dragon hadn’t stolen Pumpkin — but she smelled scavenger somewhere nearby, and his behavior had been very suspicious — so she didn’t feel guilty about the heart attack she was about to give him.

  “AHA!” she shouted, leaping into his path and flinging off the invisibility magic.

  “YIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPES!” he shrieked, in a very gratifyingly t
errified way.

  “Give it back!” she shouted. “You stole Winter’s scavenger! Give it back now!”

  “She wasn’t his!” somebody yelled back at her. Not the dragon, though. He was standing there with his mouth closed and his eyes wide open. What the — ?

  “You can’t own a scavenger! We’re not pets!”

  There was a SCAVENGER. STANDING. ON THE DRAGON’S HEAD.

  SHOUTING AT SNOWFALL IN DRAGON.

  “Except you, you’re my pet,” the dragon said quickly, almost under his breath, and then made a face as if he was trying very hard not to laugh.

  “Not helpful, Sky!” the scavenger barked at him, poking the top of his head with her foot.

  “But — but —” Snowfall had never in her entire life been so at a loss for words.

  A scavenger! Speaking Dragon! In a conversation! Like it was really talking to her!

  “How is this happening?” She glanced down at her jewelry. Was this another animus curse? Was she hallucinating intelligent, talking scavengers now? “Where’s Pumpkin?” she demanded.

  The dragon started snorting with laughter so much that the scavenger on his head had to grab his horns so she wouldn’t fall off.

  “Her name is Daffodil,” said the scavenger.

  “Oh, ah,” Snowfall said, very much in denial that this conversation was real. “Much more dignified.”

  A small face peeked out from behind the dragon’s neck, surrounded by a halo of dark hair. She waved one of her little paws at Snowfall.

  “Does she speak Dragon, too?” Snowfall asked.

  “She’s supposed to,” said the scavenger on the dragon’s head. “If she paid attention and studied more, she’d be able to talk to any dragons who try to kidnap her.”

  “Daffodil!” Daffodil/Pumpkin shouted in Dragon. “No eating!” The pitch of her voice was too high and the accents and growls were in all the wrong places, but now that Snowfall was listening for it, she could tell those were Dragon words. Winter’s former pet shook her head huffily and squeaked something scavenger-ish in what looked like indignant outrage.

  But scavengers couldn’t be sentient; they couldn’t be smart enough to learn Dragon and talk like dragons and argue with queens! They were just big squirrels! Prey! This had to be some kind of party trick. This weird SkyWing (if that’s really what he was) must have trained his scavengers to make all the right funny noises. Surely that was it.

  Or else Snowfall would have to believe that there was a whole civilization of intelligent life living right under the dragons’ talons all this time, stealing treasure and getting eaten. And having feelings? Surely not.

  “This is” — Snowfall pressed her talons to her head — “I can’t — this makes no —”

  And then she realized the fuzziness and headache and creeping darkness weren’t caused by the discovery that an everyday snack could have a conversation with her.

  It was another vision, arriving now, whether she liked it or not.

  “Oh no,” she muttered, and then her eyes closed and she dropped …

  down …

  down …

  down …

  into … what?

  * * *

  She is very small.

  She is tiny and soft and furry and nimble, leaping from rock to rock high above the cave floor, unafraid even though she has no wings.

  Below her, the green dragon growls and spins, but it doesn’t see her in the dark shadows of the cave ceiling.

  Nice try, she thinks jubilantly. This particular dragon has been trying to catch one of them for days, but with no luck, of course. Ha ha, big old slow-moving lizard!

  “Raven!” She holds on to a stalactite and turns toward the voice. Of course it’s Mole, peeking out of one of the secret upper passages.

  “Hey, Mole,” she says with a jaunty wave.

  “Get in here before the dragon sees you!” he hisses.

  Raven sighs, but Mole has enough stress without her adding to it. She leaps neatly to the ledge beside him and crawls through the hole in the wall.

  On the other side, the passages are only big enough for humans. These winding tunnels are the safe parts of the cave, which is to say, the boring parts.

  “Are you trying to get caught by a dragon?” he asks.

  “Of course not,” Raven says cheerfully. “I just think it’s funny to watch them get all grumpy about it.” They set off toward their cave village.

  “You mustn’t provoke them,” Mole argues. “What if one of them catches you? Or gets really mad and smashes down some cave walls and finds all of us? There are too many dragons down here right now. We should stay hidden, not run around poking their noses and asking to be eaten.”

  Raven rolls her eyes. “Don’t you want to know why they’re suddenly here? Something is happening in the sky world. Something important.”

  “Important to dragons, maybe,” he says. “Nothing to do with us.”

  “Unless it’s related to the abyss,” Raven points out.

  “Shhh!” He looks around furtively. “You know the rules!”

  “But it’s acting weird, and everyone knows it,” she says. “I don’t think we can keep pretending it’s not there.”

  “Well, if you would like to climb down into the deepest, darkest hole in the universe to figure out what those noises are, then go ahead,” Mole says. “But leave me out of it — and stop teasing the dragons!” He runs on ahead of her, and she feels guilty for a moment that she’s driven him past the edges of his patience once again.

  Still. It is strange that so many dragons came crowding into the caves, acting weird, within days of the abyss changing for the first time in years.

  Something is happening.

  And Mole is wrong. Whatever it is, if it scared the dragons … then there’s every chance it could be the end of the world for the humans.

  “Is she all right?” a voice whispered near Snowfall’s ear. “I’ve never seen a dragon faint before.”

  “I think Wren yelled her into fainting,” the dragon’s voice said disapprovingly.

  “That’s me, terrifier of dragons!” said someone else. “She was definitely scared of me, right?”

  “No,” Snowfall snapped, but she couldn’t open her eyes yet. Everything was too strange; her limbs, her scales, her wings all felt wrong, and it was taking forever for her self to settle back into place.

  “Wait — did she just understand me?” the third voice said.

  They were speaking Human.

  Human, a language of its own, not just a series of squeaks and grarghs and gurgles that the scavengers made.

  I don’t even want to know this word. Human.

  “Should we be running awayrrplenerpchirp?” the first voice asked. Halfway through the sentence, the human language faded from Snowfall’s brain and her inner dragon breathed comforting frost all through her.

  I am Snowfall, she told herself frantically. Queen of the IceWings. I am a DRAGON. This is really, truly me.

  She sat up, touching her head gingerly. The pale orange dragon was crouched beside her, with the Dragon-speaking human — scavenger — on his shoulder. Pumpkin was standing just behind one of his talons, as if she was prepared to either duck out of sight or run forward and attack, whichever was required.

  “Sorry,” the dragon said kindly, in Dragon, thank goodness. “We didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “You DID NOT frighten me,” she growled. The scavenger on the dragon’s shoulder put her hand on the sword at her belt. “I mean, I’m not scared. I get visions sometimes; that’s all that was. It’s a magic curse thing.” She tugged on the intractable ring.

  That seemed very intentional, you rotten accessory. Were you enchanted to prove me wrong every time I have a thought you don’t like? Have you ever thrown any OTHER queens into the tiny edible body of something else? Why don’t we all know about scavengers, if you have — and if you haven’t, WHY ARE YOU TORTURING JUST ME?

  “What did you see?” asked th
e strange scavenger.

  “More of you,” Snowfall answered, waving one of her wings at the creature. “But I think they were on the other continent.” It was harder to hold on to the memories from this vision, because they made so little sense to her dragon brain. She could still feel the weird little hairs and flat face and upright balance of the human, but everything it knew, like the details of its life underground, was muddled and bewildering.

  But — the dragons hiding in the caves. That sounded like Bryony and her group. And then something about an abyss?

  “This is Wren,” said the dragon, gently poking the scavenger on his shoulder with one claw. “You’ve already met Daffodil. And I’m Sky.”

  “No way,” Snowfall said. He blinked innocently, and she added, “Sky the SkyWing? That’s completely ridiculous.”

  “Oh,” he said, his face relaxing. “Well, Wren named me, and she didn’t know what SkyWings were called thenabouts.” He shrugged, as if that made any sense, as if sure, scavengers named dragons all the time, totally normal.

  “Winter is going to lose his entire mind,” Snowfall suddenly realized. “A scavenger that can talk to dragons — I mean, I think his head might literally explode. Arrrrrrrrgh, I guess this means Moon was right.” She contemplated not telling anybody about this; it would be insufferable to have to confirm that NightWing’s “impressions” of scavenger emotions. But the thought of the look on Winter’s face outweighed everything else.

  “Wait,” said Sky. “What?”

  “We should go,” Wren said, tugging on Sky’s ear.

  “No, no, no,” Snowfall said. “No way! You CANNOT make me go back to Winter alone to say, ‘oh, yes, Pumpkin escaped, but guess what, she has a scavenger friend who speaks Dragon, and a weirdo dragon who speaks scavenger, ah, well, but I let them go, didn’t think you’d be interested.’ SERIOUSLY.”

  Wren put her fists on her hips. “And you can’t make us go back into that city full of dragons to say, ‘hello, we escaped, no problem, but we thought it would be great fun to come back and get eaten instead.’ SERIOUSLY.”

  Snowfall thought it was wildly funny that Wren seemed to speak Dragon better than Sky himself did, and that she could even master the exact right growly intonation of SERIOUSLY.