Nya had seen it first an hour back down the road. Every step drew him closer towards it, and gradually the glow began to take shape. There were at least fifteen rows of little red lights; with fewer at the top row and more on the next on down to the bottom. He could not imagine what it could be, but the course of the Red Road remained unaltered, and every step forward was a step nearer this riddle of lights.

It was not long after that Nya became aware of noises in the distance, presumably originating with the lights. There was a great clattering and clanging of metal—rhythmic and unbroken, Clang-twang! Boom! Clang-ker-twang! Twang! Boom! Clang-twang! Boom! Clang-clang-ker-twang! Boom! Too, he began to be able to make out the form of the structure—for it was a building of sorts. The rows of lights he had seen were windows, constructed in a spiralling pattern down the length of what appeared to Nya to be a gigantic kiln. But indeed, for its size and the windows, he knew that the structure could not serve the same purpose as a kiln. There seemed to be a great hole in the top of the domed structure, out of which poured billowing clouds of smoke, their underbellies dyed red by the light of fires below.

The noise was louder now. Nya saw ahead that the length of the Red Road turned just before the structure, giving a breadth of about ten feet before its entrance. The great domed entrance shone fiery red, four storeys tall and wide enough for at least fifty men to cross through abreast. Even for this, the entrance had seemed only a small light to compare to the ultimate girth and height of the entire structure from a distance. Following Shadowshifter and the others, Nya passed the great threshold into what felt like a heavy wall of heat—and found himself immediately surrounded by pure chaos!

At the first, it was almost too much to take in. The noise of falling anvils and heavy machinery was deafening. The place was huge and busy as a horde of komerados. Looking up, Nya saw pulleys and vats transporting molten metal to higher and lower levels; the inside of the dome had a system of ramps alongside the walls, in a spiralling pattern as the windows had indicated from outside. Conveyor belts zigzagged across the centre of the dome between ramps, carrying chunks of unrefined materials to and fro. Nya walked forward to the edge of the ramp the entrance had opened upon. He gripped the edge of the metal barrier and looked down to behold more of the same; more ramps spiralling down, more conveyor belts, more pulleys, on down into the great centre of the “kiln”, where he could see the light of a great boiling furnace far below. And everywhere he saw hundreds of workers, none of them much older than himself and many younger; powering the belts, sorting the unrefined materials, filling what looked like weapon or machine casts, pounding crude red-hot tools, and more.

The Shadowshifter’s cold iron hand gripped Nya’s shoulder suddenly and pulled him back. “This is the Sekivres-Vorcipet-Helcid!” he shouted over the noise. “You will all report here for work each morning unless otherwise directed! Shadowsmasher!”

The last word had been shouted louder, to gain the attention of a large, burly man already approaching them. He stopped a few feet away and saluted the giant. “Yes, Shadowshifter, sir!”

“These are the new Kiy-äné, I trust you know where they are to go?”

“Yes sir!” shouted the man, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist. “The ones from Novangärd, eh?”

“That’s right,” Shadowshifter affirmed. He eyes wandered up from the man to the vast chambers above. His expression darkened as they returned to Nya. Then he looked at Shadowsmasher. “I’ll leave you to your work.” He spun on his heel, his dark cape swirling in his wake, and he departed the way he had come, leaving Nya, his friends, and the Moon Dracoens with Shadowsmasher.

“A’right,” Shadowsmasher shouted, “You heard the man! There’s work to be done, come along with me now!”

Nya glanced anxiously at his friends. Their faces were expressionless, their eyes dark. Perhaps as Shifter had said, they could not hear him. How then did they know the will of the Black Shard before them, that they followed him without question on up to a higher ramp? Nya followed after them wordlessly, his chest tight with dread. Would they always be like this?

On the next level up, there were rows and rows of workers before conveyor belts. “Your first shift will be here; you’re sorters on this line!” shouted Shadowsmasher, “Check the scrap, let the metal move on up, and remove debris—wooden handles and the like! Cast that lot over the belt and into the fires below! If you find something else, like a bit o’ precious stone, take it off the belt and drop it into one o’ those chutes on your other side there, next to your station! Oy! Shadowsong!”

One of the workers turned; a girl who looked to be about thirteen or fourteen. She was La’Karnian; pale skinned with pointed ears and narrow eyes. She had some sort of black makeup swirling down from the corners of her eyes in a strange web-like pattern over her cheeks. Her hair was very short, almost the same cut as servant boys back home—it was the blackest Nya had ever seen, like pitch, with only the red glint of the fires’ light to give it form. She looked at Shadowsmasher for only a second before her green eyes met Nya’s, and a something of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“What’re you daydreamin’ at, girl?” Shadowsmasher barked, snapping her attention back towards him.

“Nothing, sir!” she answered quickly, looking up at him and straightening her back and shoulders.

“These are the new ‘uns I told you about earlier—from Novangärd. I want you to show ‘em how we do things ‘round here, understood?”

“Yes sir!”

“I’ll check your progress in a bit—” Snag! Crack! He looked up at the sudden noise (which had not much stood out to Nya against the rest) and did not look pleased. “Oy! You up there! Stop hammerin’ the belt like that! You want to lose an arm?!” he shouted at someone working on one of the higher levels. He growled curses low in his throat and looked at the girl. “Just see that they get the hang of things, aye?” Then he hurried on his way up the ramp to stop the offending hammerer.

The girl looked after him only a moment, then at Nya again. She waved him and the others forward. “Come on, these are your stations next to me,” she shouted. “And here, you’ll each need a pair of these!” She reached into her pocket and retrieved what looked like little grey rocks. As Nya took a pair, though, he felt that they were actually very soft. He gave her an odd look, and she motioned to her ears. “Put them in your ears! It’ll help with the noise!”

Nya did as she as she instructed, as did the Moon Dracoens and his friends. Though the stuff, whatever it was, felt strange and warm in his ears, it did take the brunt off of the assaulting noise.

“We change shifts every two hours—next one in a few minutes, actually!” the girl yelled, her voice now sounding a bit muffled with the clanging of metal, “Next shift is down below—until then, we sort this metal scrap, like Shadowsmasher said!”

Nya picked up an old rusted dagger off the belt. No precious stones, no wood, so he set it down again and cast another anxious look at his friends, Gideon on his left now and Marley just beside him. Their faces were completely without expression; their hands moving mechanically, their eyes just staring.

The girl, midst her work, caught the look. She smiled a bit. “First time on the Red Road, yeah? Don’t worry, they’ll be fine, same as you—it’s just taking them a little longer.”

“I did not walk o’ it.”

She raised an eyebrow, but she shrugged and looked back at her work. Checking, removing, and casting, she worked fast and rhythmically. “Well, they’ll be fine, in any case!” She caught up the dagger Nya had put down moment before, turned it over, and looked at him. “This is too rusty, and it’s got leather straps about the hilt, see? It’s got to go down to the smelters,” she directed, “See this chute here on your right? That’s the chute for rusted things! The one on your left is for jewels!”

Nya nodded.

“What's all this for, anyway?” cried a voice to his left. It was Gideon. He looked dazed and confused, like he did not know where he was or why, but he kept working as he had been instructed.

“Different things,” the girl said, shrugging again. “Weapons, buildings, trade supplies—different things!”

Gideon’s brow furrowed as he looked at his work. He looked at Nya and looked even more confused. Reaching up, he touched the side of the soft grey material in his ear and startled. “What in the world?!”

“’Tis t’keep out ze noise, Gideon!”

“Don’t slow down or the taskmasters will get at you!”

Gideon looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “Who are you?”

“Shadowsong!” she said. “Keep working!”

“Working?” he repeated. He remembered—at least, he thought he did—how he had gotten here and what he was supposed to do... but why had he actually done it? He was a Prince of New Münshir, not a smith! What on Sjoria was he doing here?

Keep yer wits, sire, Nya mouthed to him, looking worried.

Gideon looked at him strangely. Then he looked at Marley. She too was beginning to look dazed or confused, like she was just waking from a deep sleep.

“Where are we?” she asked. Her face blanched and contorted with disgust as she looked at her hands. “What am I doing?”

“The SVH!” Shadowsong yelled. “That’s what we call it around here, anyway—the Sekivres-Vorcipet-Helcid! Just keep working! This shift will be over in a bit, then I can explain everything!” Just then a loud groaning horn sounded and the conveyor belts ground to a halt—Shadowsong looked more than just a little relieved. She smiled a little. “Come on, we go below now!”

Marley and Gideon looked to Nya, who gave them a quick reassuring nod.

“You too!” Shadowsong said, beckoning to the Moon Dracoens.

The five of them followed Shadowsong down the spiralling ramp, passing other workers changing their shifts along the way. Many were coming up the ramps, some from the higher levels were heading down, but none of them were going quite as down as Shadowsong seemed to be leading them. As they descended, the heat became more and more intense as they came closer and closer to the furnace. Then, at last, Shadowsong led them to a large stone door, which opened into a long stone passageway. She motioned them all in, then followed and closed the door behind her.

This passage was lit by rows of little orange lights, like the lamps, each seated in nooks along the low rough ceiling. Shadowsong paused and took the grey stuff out of her ears. She smiled. “We won’t need these down here. Keep a hold of them, though, in case they move us back up later today,” she said, tucking the wads back into her pocket. She started down the hall and waved that they follow her. The Moon Dracoens did, but the Münshirlings hesitated.

Pale-faced, Marley looked at Gideon. “I do believe I’m going to be sick...”

“Underground?”

She nodded quickly.

He took her hand and squeezed it. “Come on,” he whispered. “Until we figure out what’s going on here, we need to play along with them. Just try to bear it.”

Marley swallowed hard and for a moment looked as if she would indeed vomit or pass out, but she

managed not to. She nodded. “All right, I’ll try.”

Nya put his hand on her shoulder and rubbed it. “You’ll make it, Marley.”

“Hey, come on!” Shadowsong called from ahead. “We’ll be in big trouble if we don’t make it to our new stations on time.”

The boys looked ahead after her, then at Marley in concern. They all followed with some hesitance.

“So,” Shadowsong said after a few minutes, “You’re the new kids, huh? What’re your names?”

“Our names?” the blue Moon Dracoen asked softly, speaking for the first time since the three Münshirlings had met him. His voice was smooth and confident, but there was something about it that was so... unnatural... it seemed contained and as emotionless as the other, yet there was something locked behind it. “From before, or our Shadows names?” Shadowsrath gave him a glance, and something within the blue Dracoen seemed to flinch. He looked away quickly.

Shadowsong laughed, as if she had not noticed the strange tone or the look. “Kiy-äné aren’t allowed out of the SVH during prime hours, so I’m afraid I missed your naming ceremony,” she said, “You can tell me both if you’d like. My real name is Dahlia.”

“You can call me Marley,” the Münshirling girl stated briskly, “And we’ll leave it at that.”

Shadowing was silent a moment, and looked really uncomfortable. “Uh... I do need to know your Shadow’s name,” she said “I can’t really call you Marley.”

Marley only afforded her a short glare.

“Her name is Shadowsfang,” the blue Dracoen muttered quietly, earning himself a furiously disdainful look from her... he was lucky looks could not kill. Disregarding this entirely, he looked at the La’Karnian and added, “To my people I am Kal’Morai. To our Queen, I am now Shadowsrogue.”

“I am Shadowsrath,” the red Dracoen stated. “Unless I am gravely mistaken, a real name, as you put it, is of no consequence. We are to leave behind our old identities.”

“You didn’t misunderstand,” Shadowsong said. “But life would be so very dull if we all followed the law to the letter, don't you think?”

“I’m not leaving my name or my past behind,” Marley said passionately. “I cannot be made to.”

Gideon leaned in closer to her. “You don’t have to,” he whispered, “Just play along.”

“My name is Nya. Zey called me, eh, Shadows... Shadowsleaf, I zink. So yeh wouldn’t mind my callin’ yeh Dahlia, would yeh?”

Shadowsong smiled. “No, I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “But, there is a time and a place. Shadowsnappy over there is right; we’re supposed to leave our old lives and names behind. But that’s all just official, formal stuff. Just don’t let the higher ups catch you calling me Dahlia and we should be fine.” She looked at Gideon. “You’re Gideon, I heard ...Nya, right? call you that. But what’s your Shadow’s name?”

Gideon looked at her, but hesitated. “Shadowscrest.”

Shadowsong nodded thoughtfully. “So, where did you all come from? I mean, I know you come from Novangärd, Shadowsmasher told me, but where on Novangärd?”

“We hail from Telvica,” Shadowsrath said, looking at the Münshirlings pointedly.

Gideon raised an eyebrow. He had never heard of a place called Telvica before. Aren’t Moon Dracoens supposed live in the Jag Circle? he thought. Maybe Telvica was their name for it. Jag’s Circle, after all, was a Münshirling name. “We're from New Münshir.”

“Wow, really? I’ve never been to New Münshir,” Shadowsong said. “What is it like? Is it as beautiful as they say? I’ve never really been any place except here. They don’t let Kiy-äné—that’s us, by the way—off the island until after—” she stopped short. “Hey, wait, how old are you all?”

“Nya and I are fourteen, fifteen next month,” Gideon said. “Marley just turned fourteen a few months ago.”

“Oh, so not long now for you then. I’m fourteen too,” Shadowsong said. “That’s about the age they start letting you off the island. After the initiation mission, that is.”

“Initiation mission?” Nya asked.

“Yeah,” Shadowsong said. “They have to make sure you’re loyal to the Snake Queen first, then they’ll let you come and go off the island, for missions and things.”

Nya, Gideon, and Marley exchanged glances. “When will they give us these missions?”

Shadowsong shrugged. “A couple of weeks after you turn fourteen, usually. Or it could be a few months. Shadowsmasher decides when you’re ready, and he recommends you to Shadowshifter, who in turn tells the Queen.” She looked at the Moon Dracoens. “So how old are you two?”

“I am twelve,” said the blue dracoen. “Shadowsrath is fourteen.”

“A little longer for you then. But don’t worry, it’s not that bad—I mean, you’ll have to work around here for a while longer, but as long as you do what you’re told and keep in line, it’s—” Shadowsong laughed, unable to believe what she had almost said. “Well, it’s bad, but it could be worse! They will teach you all about worse though, trust me.”

Gideon looked at the Moon Dracoens again, the younger blue one in particular. Remembering what Shadowscurse had said about Black Shards taken at an older age being people of importance, he asked, “So how did you two get here, anyway?”

Neither of the Dracoens looked at him. Gideon felt foolish, as though he had incorrectly addressed a superior or spoken out of turn concerning something he knew nothing about. Confused and embarrassed, he looked away quickly.

“We were sent here,” Shadowsrath stated indifferently.

“You were sent here?” Marley asked. “By whom?” Like Gideon, she felt suddenly small and stupid, inferior and even a little afraid, for having talked to the Moon Dracoens. It made her angry and resentful of them.

“Our people are close allies of the Snake Queen,” Shadowsrath clarified, still blankly and without so much as looking at her.

“Allies?” Marley repeated, disgusted. “Then you really are the wretched pieces of filth I’ve hear—”

Shadowsong had felt tensions rising even before Marley had even opened her mouth, but she did not need to intervene because they had just come to the end of the hallway. “Shh, here we are now,” she hissed.

They entered a large, wide room, lit on either side by furnaces. There was a large, muscular man standing near the entrance waiting for them, a scowl contorting his sweaty, greasy face. Shadowsong saw him and ducked her head. “’Bout time you lazy pups show up!” he shouted. “Thar’s fuel ta be loaded! Git ta work! NOW!”

Shadowsong swiftly waved that they follow her and hurried past him. The others tried to keep her pace and follow, when suddenly there was a loud crack! Followed by a searing pain that spread like lightning up and down Gideon’s back! Too surprised to even yelp, he sprang forward—but the sensation did not subside, and he felt hot blood run down his back. Shadowsong looked down and bit her lip.

“Gideon!” Nya exclaimed.

Marley whirled around towards the taskmaster with fire in her eyes. “You filth!”

The taskmaster smiled brutishly, taunting her to go on. Red-faced and eyes filled with tears she stepped forward, but Gideon caught her shoulder and shook his head. “No, don’t!” he exclaimed. Then, softer, he added, “Just don’t. Let’s just get to work.”

Marley stopped and looked at him disapprovingly, then hesitantly pulled away. Her heart felt like a red hot coal burning in her chest, furious that someone had dared strike her best friend and Prince!

The taskmaster chuckled. “Good choice.”

“I’m going for his sake, not yours.”

“Is that supposed ta be a threat?” the taskmaster growled. “You and all five feet o’ you? And what, a ‘undred and ten pounds, maybe?” He laughed. “I’m shaking! Keep an eye on these, Shifter said. Spirits just like The Bane, that’s what ‘e said. Heh, well we’ll see about that, won’t we? I’ll break you, all ta pieces if I have ta. Now move along wit’ the others! Now! ‘Fore I take this whip ta your backside!”

“We are moving,” Gideon said, stepping in front of Marley defensively, “Must you be such a brute about it?”

The taskmaster’s face nearly turned purple. He raised his ugly whip to strike Gideon again when there was a sudden shout, “You!”

The taskmaster looked up. “Wot?”

Standing in the entranceway was another Black Shard; he was very tall and, though he was wearing one of those capes that Gideon had seen on others earlier, the hood was down, so that they could see his face. He was a La’Karnian, with short, sleek black hair and piercing dark eyes. “Are you over the Kiy-äné on this level?”

“Yeah?” the taskmaster said hesitantly, his raised arm slowly coming down to his side.

“Orders from the top,” the messenger said, “The three from New Münshir are to be separated from the rest. Shadowsfalcon says to show them our best. Shadowsong and the Moon Dracoen Shadowsrath are to have the usual shifts.”

“Wot about ‘im?” the taskmaster asked, motioning to the blue Dracoen.

“Shadowsfalcon demands that Shadowsrogue is to be brought to her at once.”

Shadowsrath and Shadowsrogue gave each other hesitant glances. Then Shadowsrath shrugged and Shadowsrogue nodded.

“Well, you ‘eard ‘im! MOVE! NOW!” the taskmaster shouted, cracking his whip.

The young Moon Dracoen hesitated only the slightest moment—but Marley was not watching him, she was watching the face of the messenger. He seemed familiar to her somehow, but she could not place his face. Suddenly a look of horror passed over his eyes—he looked for only a few milliseconds that he might say something, but he never got around to it. Instead he stretched out his arm in front of Shadowsrogue just as that wicked black whip was snapped again. This time it did not bite its intended target, but coiled around and bit deeply into the messenger’s arm instead!

The taskmaster stood stunned for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but the messenger put up his other hand and hissed through clenched teeth, “Shadowsfalcon says this one is not to be harmed.”

“Forgive me, sir, I did not—”

“Just do your job,” said the messenger, “And let me do mine.” He yanked his arm out of the whip’s coils, effectively cutting it deeper, but this did not seem to faze him. Rather, he gripped Shadowrogue’s shoulder and led him back up the stairs.

The taskmaster seemed rooted in a daze as he watched them off, still looking like he would suddenly fall to pieces apologizing for what he had done. Shadowsong took advantage of this. “Hey,” she whispered, grabbing Shadowsrath’s arm, “Come with me, I’ll show you how things work around here.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Gideon asked.

Shadowsong paused only a moment. She glanced back at him regretfully. “Just… follow the taskmaster.” She looked away and retreated with her head ducked low.

“Bah! Confound it all!” shouted the taskmaster, still looking off after the messenger. He growled and muttered a series of inaudible curses, then whirled on the three friends. “Oy, you three—don’t expect the same special treatment as your friend! ‘e may have gotten off, call it luck or misfortune as you will, but the three o’ you are mine tonight!”

Thairyn’s arms and legs were shaking. Neyhira was sitting by the little brook under her, dipping her toes in the water. A pair of little silver fish swimming by paused and started to nip softly at her toes. Neyhira’s disappointed expression brightened a little. She made a grab for them, but they slipped through her hands and darted on. Neyhira sighed and her shoulders sank. She looked so unhappy!

Thairyn looked off again to where the Sylvahna Sioran children had gone. They did not look like they were coming back. Eagerly, Thairyn looked down at her sister. “Neyhira?” she whispered hoarsely.

Neyhira startled and looked around.

Thairyn hopped down from her tree branch. “Neyhira!” she said.

Neyhira half turned around to look at her. Her eyes wandered up and down Thairyn’s form, looking uncertain, and she wrinkled her brow.

Hello? Why isn’t she answering me? The thought came as a question to Thairyn’s mind. She tilted her head. “Neyhira,” she said softly. “Where’s Mama? Where’s Papa? Is Valii with you?”

Neyhira stood up. She looked at Thairyn strangely. Then she looked at the forest.

Mama? Again, a single word, a question that popped into Thairyn’s mind without her consent... Unlike the uncertain hello, however, it stood out in stark contrast against her own train of thought so that she recognized it at once. Thairyn took a step back. Her heart was pounding... she did not know why. That little delicate thing—but, somehow, the little delicate thing did not seem like a little thing inside her any more, suddenly she felt that she was the little delicate thing, and she was terrified of finding out for sure what her heart already knew. No! It doesn’t know! It doesn’t know anything! Thairyn thought desperately, when suddenly more words formed in her mind—Why are you frightened? She looked up. Neyhira was just looking at her, a concerned, anxious look on her face. I won’t hurt you. We’re safe here, the voiceless thought persisted, We’re safe, we are. “Why don’t you say anything, Neyhira?” Thairyn asked, feeling a knot in her throat. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

A shadow passed Neyhira’s face.

What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she talking to me? I don’t talk any more. Mother told me I was hurt. No one hears me any more, either. No, that’s not true! “I hear you!” Thairyn shouted, tears springing to her eyes. She swiped them back.

Neyhira looked surprised.

You hear me? This must be like Spirit Speak. Of course I hear her. Or I feel her, or something. Thairyn nodded quickly, and sniffed. Why are you sad?

Neyhira tilted her head to one side. She looked at her bandages.

You’re hurt. Which thoughts are mine? What can I do? This is too confusing! What hurt you? I want to know. I don’t want to know anything! “I want Mama,” Thairyn managed through her tight throat. “Please, Neyhira, where’s Mama? And Papa? And Valii and Kaqurei?”

There was no recognition in her twin’s face; no sadness, no relief, just more confusion.

Valii? Kaqurei? An icy feeling gripped Thairyn in the very pit of her broken heart; it made her blood run cold. Her arms and legs began to shake again. “Neyhira...” she whispered.

Thairyn stiffened. It was like a nightmare. Nothing had been said... not really, but that one thought, that one question—she knew Neyhira had thought it. Her heart pounding hard, Thairyn stepped back.

Neyhira looked worried. There was a sense of distress as she stepped forward.

Mother is in the forest, waiting for me and Kelna. You can come to her. She can help. A picture surfaced in Thairyn’s mind, a face of a woman she had never seen before; a white Sioran with black hair. Thairyn shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “No, no, not their mother, our mother! Where’s Mama?”

Neyhira looked confused, even distrustful.

“No,” Thairyn whispered, stepping back again. “No, no!” She turned and she ran, back to her tree—she had to run!

Wait! Don’t go! But she paid the thought no heed. Don’t go! I have to! I have to! She scrambled up the branches as fast as she could, nearly blind through her tears. She got to the highest branches and sprang out onto the rocks, not stopping until she had topped that large rock she had been on before. There, she crumpled into a ball, hugging her knees tight to her chest, and she wept for a long time. Please! Come back!

“Wawk?” Meiikii twittered in concern.

Thairyn did not move or look up. She continued to sob.

The irwyn tilted his head and trilled a long, soft, anxious noise. He stood, looking down at his little friend anxiously. He hesitated. Thairyn had told him to stay. But she needed him. She needed him now. He paced back and forth, searching with his eyes for the easiest, quietest way down. Satisfied that he had found it, he tentatively put his hand forward, then withdrew it, then put it back and carefully set down the mountainside towards Thairyn. His descent was nearly noiseless, and he only disturbed two pebbles from their place. As he slinked onto the rock, Thairyn still did not move. Her sobs had softened, but her body still shook. Meiikii sat down on his haunches and looked at her. He made that trilling noise again, and she startled.

Thairyn looked up and through her tears saw only a great purple blob. The moment she moved, he stood again and came towards her, brushing his large body gently against her. He curled around her protectively and covered her with his wings, purring loudly.

Thairyn sniffled and laid her head against his side. She clutched his thick fur in her hands and cried.

Meiikii’s body relaxed. He had his little friend safe with him now. He would keep her safe. He laid his great head on the stone and laid back his ears, listening to the sounds of the wind rustling through the trees, the distant rumbling of thunder as the skies overhead greyed. He heard another noise; a sort of squeaking or squealing. There was a catch in the steady vibration of his purrs. He lifted his head and looked out over the fields below the mountain. There were little figures running and jumping towards the forest, screaming and squeaking little happy “person” noises. He raised his ears and focused towards them, his golden eyes becoming large and round. He squeaked low in his throat and tilted his head, tapping his fingers and swishing his tail. He loved the noises they were making—how he would have loved to chase them

and thrill them, so they would make even more exciting squeals and screams! Then Thairyn stirred under his wing. The irwyn chirped, and his purring intensified. He raised his wing a little bit and ducked his head so that he could see her.

Thairyn sniffled and softly patted his side. She rubbed her eyes and looked at him, gazing at her so intently.

“Brrreet, brrrreet,” Meiikii trilled. “Burrrr’eet?”

She reached out and touched his beak. He pressed in to her hand and closed his eyes as her small, bandaged hand caressed his smooth beak. She repositioned herself, so that she would be facing the valley. There were the Sioran children, playing and laughing. Her face was solemn and tear-stained now, but unreadable to the irwyn. He understood most facial expressions such as smiling, grimacing, glaring—joy, pain, anger. He knew tears meant distress. But Thairyn's face was blank. Was she better? He trilled softly again, and nudged her hand with his beak.

Thairyn sniffled and looked at him. She patted his beak and looked at the valley again. “Do you see her, Meiikii?” she asked in a whisper.

The irwyn looked at his little friend and tilted his head to one side again. He followed her gaze and looked out at the valley. He saw the little Siorans... and another figure, standing a little ways away from them; a little dracoen person. This one was not hopping or laughing like the rest. She stood still, her wings drooping at her sides and shoulders slouched. But the animal, while he understood her words somewhat, did not understand the significance of the figure to his little friend. He looked at her and twittered softly.

Thairyn did not look at him. “Well, I don’t want to talk to her again,” she said, almost defensively. “Meiikii... she doesn’t remember them. She doesn’t remember Mama... she doesn’t remember Valii, or Kaqurei... or even her own name! What’s wrong with her? What if... what is she doesn’t remember me, too? At least if I stay up here, I can pretend she still remembers me.” She looked at him now, so afraid, so vulnerable—she needed something of him, but he did not understand what. “Right?”

Maybe she was hungry. The look sort of reminded him of someone who was hungry. Desperate. Pleading. Pain. But he did not have any food for her, and this annoyed him a little. Hoping to ease her fear, at least, he purred more intensely to assure her that she was safe, safe in the nest. He butted his large head against her lovingly. He would get her food later.

Thairyn caught his head in a desperate hug. Her body shook, but she did not weep again. “I’ve lost... I’m lost, Meiikii, so lost,” she whispered in a shaking voice. “I want my Mama and my Papa... I need them. I need them!”

In spite of discomfort, Meiikii patiently waited for the tightness of her hug to subside before he moved again. As she sank back down under his wing, he saw tears in her eyes.

“I’m scared. I’m so scared. What’s wrong with her? I can’t talk to her again. I want to, I do... but... if she doesn’t remember me... I don’t think I could bear it, losing her too...”

Meiikii stopped purring. He nuzzled her and whined. She was hurting, he knew that. He just did not know what was hurting her, or how he could make her better. He wanted her to be better.

Thairyn smiled slightly, though pained. “You’re right, Meiikii. I haven’t lost Neyhira. She’s still right there, and I can keep an eye on her.” She looked at the irwyn with fierce determination. “I’ll protect her from everything, Meiikii. Nobody can take my Neyhira away from me. I won’t let them.” Her eyes wandered back to the field towards her sister, who was leaving the others again—she was heading back under the cover of the trees, where Thairyn had talked to her.

“Kiirshonu!” cried a little Sioran boy, looking after her. “Come on, come play with us!”

Neyhira paused only a moment and looked back at him over her shoulder. Not right now, Kelna. I have to find her. She was hurt, and sad. And I don’t know why. She continued towards the tree.

The little Sioran boy looked confused. He skipped towards her and caught her wrist. “Kiirshonu, didn’t you hear me?”

Neyhira looked at him and smiled sadly. He doesn't understand.

“I said, come play with us,” he went on. “Come on; when it starts raining we’ll have to go back.”

Neyhira shook her head. No. I want to find her—I have to find her. I know you don’t hear, and I’m sorry. But I must find her. She gently put her hand on his and loosened his grip, smiling apologetically at his questioning face. He stood still and watched her turn and walk towards the brook—then she stopped short.

“What is it?” Kelna asked, walking to her side.

Kiirshonu stood unmoving, her eyes fixed on a large half-shell of a kajum seed sitting near the brook. She walked over to it and peered inside. It was filled with water, with a pair of little silver fish swimming about in circles within. Carefully, she reached down and picked up the shell. At the bottom was scraped a simple figure; two people like her, with muzzles, wings, and tails, holding hands. A sense of longing filled her as she looked down at that figure crudely scraped in the wooden shell. There were so many questions in her mind—Who was that girl? Why was she so hurt, so frightened and sad? Where did she go? Why did she run away? She said she heard me, like mother. How did she do it? How come no one else does? Where did I come from? Yet, of one thing she was sure. She had lost something, something very important.

And it broke her heart.