“

Glory wasn’t quite sure how she knew this was not an ordinary hole in a rock. It looked like a hole — dark, with smooth stone edges, and just big enough for a full-grown dragon to pass through. A moss curtain partly covered it in a way that didn’t look quite accidental enough.

But looking into it made her head spin, as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff in high winds. A faint sound whistled out of the hole, like a storm howling on the far side of the world.

She could sense that this hole opened into a tunnel, and that tunnel went somewhere. It was impossible; she could walk all the way around the boulder, and there was nowhere for a tunnel to go. But she was sure of it.

“Starflight,” she said as calmly as she could. “What do you think of this?”

The NightWing climbed up beside her, peered around the boulder, and jumped back when he saw the hole. A tremor shivered through his wings.

“I think it’s horrible,” he said. “Can’t you feel it? There’s something horribly wrong with it. Like someone ripped a hole where there shouldn’t be one. Don’t go near it.”

“I think I have to go into it,” Glory said.

“You say that like you’re not terrified,” Starflight said, “but I can see your scales turning the same pale green that Mangrove’s just were. That means frightened, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t try to read my scales,” Glory snapped. She deliberately turned herself as black as he was. “It’s not a coincidence that this hole is here, close to where at least one dragon disappeared. Maybe Orchid went through — or maybe something came out and got her.”

“Um, exactly,” Starflight said. “And she was never seen again. I’m pretty sure you just made my point for me.”

“I promised I’d figure this out,” Glory insisted. “Not run and hide the moment we found a clue.”

Clay joined them, his wings drooping. His jaws were finally free of the rubbery red fruit. “There was nothing I could do for the sloth,” he said. “It was too far gone.”

“Wrrrrrrrb,” said Glory’s sloth mournfully. Glory looked over Clay’s shoulder at the still, silvery gray figure flopped on the ground.

“Is it dead?” she whispered.

He nodded. “I didn’t want to leave it in pain like that.”

“But you’re not going to eat it?” She tilted her head at him.

“Seems a little heartless, you know?” he said.

“And from the smell of it, it would probably make you sick,” Starflight pointed out. “I wonder what bit it, and whether it has any connection to this hole.”

Clay noticed the hole for the first time and flared his wings in surprise. “Creepy!” he yelped. “Why is it so creepy?”

“Glory wants to go in there,” Starflight said, rolling his eyes.

Clay stalked up to the hole, sniffed it, and nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, we probably have to.”

“No, we don’t!” Starflight cried. He curled his wings in toward his body. “That’s insane! There could be anything lurking in there!”

“Including the answer to what is attacking the RainWings,” Glory said. “I’m going in. You two wait here.”

Clay pounced on her tail and sat on it.

“OW,” Glory yelped, trying to wriggle free. “Get off, you giant lump.”

“We might be doing this, but we’re doing it sensibly,” Clay said. “As in tomorrow morning, when it’s not almost dark, with backup and a rope and a plan.”

“Tomorrow morning?” Glory shoved him as hard as she could, but he didn’t budge. “I want answers now!”

“Sounds like something Tsunami would say,” Starflight said with a smug face that meant he knew she wouldn’t like that comparison.

“You are so asking to get bitten,” Glory growled. She stared at the boulder for a moment, thinking. Rushing in was the Tsunami thing to do. Glory could be sensible and patient instead. “All right, we can wait until morning, but I’m staying right here to watch this hole.”

“I don’t think it’s going anywhere,” Starflight said patronizingly.

“Yeah, but maybe I’ll see something go into it,” Glory said. “Or come out.”

Starflight backed away from the hole in a hurry, his wings twitching ner vously.

“I’ll stay with you,” Clay said. “Starflight, bring the others back here in the morning, along with the longest, strongest vines you can find.”

“And tell Mangrove we’ll be here all night, so he can go home,” Glory said. “Try to be a little sympathetic, if you can muster that. Like, please point out that we haven’t found Orchid’s dead body or anything.”

“All right,” Starflight said, taking several more steps back. “Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”

“We’ll try to contain ourselves,” said Glory.

He flew off into the trees, and as the shadows quickly swallowed him up, she noticed how dark it was already. Especially down at the bottom of the forest; there was probably still a bit of sunshine up in the treetops. But night was coming on fast. She realized she was a bit relieved that Clay had stopped her from going into the hole. She needed to be able to see in the dark like Tsunami or breathe fire like the others if she wanted to explore with no light.

“You can get off my tail now,” she said to Clay.

“Let’s find a place to hide,” he suggested, standing up. “Ooooo, and maybe something to eat. Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Shocking,” Glory said with a laugh. “You know there’s still enough of that fruit left stuck to your teeth to make a whole other meal.”

“I know,” Clay said ruefully. He ran his tongue across the gummy red bits stuck between his white teeth. “But I kind of wish I had a sheep or a cow instead.”

“Sorry,” Glory said. “You probably won’t find any of those here.” She spread her wings and leaped into the low branches of a fat gray tree. Vines covered in purple blossoms hung in long loops all over the tree, and another, skinnier tree seemed to be growing up around the fat one, winding its trunk around and around it like a monkey’s tail.

They found a spot where the branches wove together thickly enough that they could both lie down without worrying about falling off. Through the vines, Glory could watch the hole in the boulder, although it, too, was rapidly disappearing into the growing shadows.

Clay curled up close to her but not touching her, which she appreciated. She wondered if other RainWings preferred not to be touched, or if that was a special thing of her own, picked up from living with three guardians who hit her almost as often as they looked at her.

Let’s be fair, she thought to herself. Webs never hurt me himself. He just let the other two do whatever they wanted.

So whenever Kestrel or Dune felt frustrated — whenever the war was going badly, or someone screwed up in battle training, or there wasn’t enough dinner for everyone, or they just remembered they had a RainWing instead of the SkyWing who was supposed to be in the prophecy — Glory was an easy target for an angry claw swipe or vicious tail thump.

Well, whatever, she thought. I’m free now, and Kestrel and Dune are both dead. She reached up and stroked the sloth curled around her neck. It snuggled into her talon with a soft warble.

“How does it feel to be home?” Clay whispered after a while. His shape was just a blacker outline in the dark beside her.

Glory coiled her tail around the branch. She’d been avoiding thinking about this ever since visiting the hatchery. I did exactly what I told myself not to — got my hopes up so they could be smacked down.

“It doesn’t really feel like I am home,” she said slowly. “The sun time was great, and I like all the fruit, but the other dragons . . . I don’t know, it’s weird. I thought they’d be more like me, but they’re nothing like me at all.”

Clay’s wings rustled. “I thought the same thing,” he said. “I thought the guardians and the scrolls must be wrong about RainWings, because you’re never lazy or boring. But I guess you’re just different from the others.”

“Maybe I’m not really,” Glory said. “Maybe more sun time would make me as lazy as they are.” She remembered the Sky Kingdom again, and the warm, hypnotizing feeling of sleeping in the sun all day long.

“I doubt that,” Clay said. “Not all RainWings are the same. You’d be different no matter where you grew up.”

I wonder, Glory thought. And even if I am, what good does that do me? “Not different enough to be part of the prophecy,” she said. “I’m still not a SkyWing.”

“We don’t want a SkyWing,” Clay said firmly. “Have you thought about what to do next? Like if we all go look for Blaze . . . you don’t want to stay here, do you? With your tribe?”

I have no idea.

“Shhh,” Glory said suddenly. “Listen.”

They both fell silent.

The rainforest was full of strange noises at night. Hidden birds hooted and squawked; the branches shook and rustled as if animals made of wind were rushing through them. A chorus of burps and gurgles came from the stream, which Glory guessed was a gathering of frogs.

But now there was something else — something stamping slowly on enormous feet.

Stamp. Slither. Stamp. Slither.

The sloth had a stranglehold on Glory’s neck. She could feel it shaking. She was sure her own scales were turning green with fear, and she had to force all her energy into staying black.

The something made a sniffing, snorting sound.

Slither. Slither.

It was near the pond now. It stopped moving for a long moment. Glory wasn’t sure whether she was imagining the great hulking shape she thought she could see, like shadows within shadows.

Crunch crunch slurp sluuuuuuurrrp crunch.

Gulping and smacking sounds followed and then abruptly stopped again.

Stamp. Slither. Stamp. Slither.

And as suddenly as it had arrived, the creature vanished again. Glory strained her ears, but she couldn’t hear any footsteps retreating into the forest, or the crackling of branches underfoot. Whatever it was had disappeared very close by.

As if it had gone back into its hole.

Neither she nor Clay said anything for a long time. She wasn’t sure enough that the slithering thing was gone to risk making any noise. She held as still as she could, even when her legs started to cramp.

After what seemed like hours, she heard soft snoring coming from Clay’s perch. She adjusted her wings and tried to sleep, too. But every noise made her heart thump fiercely, and all she could do was swim in and out of a drowsy haze for the rest of the night.

It was a relief when the sun finally started to drift down through the leaves again. She sat up, rubbed her tired eyes, and glanced toward the pond and the boulder.

The dead sloth was gone. All that remained were a few tufts of gray fur and some blood-spattered leaves, soaking into the wet, wet ground.