THAT NIGHT, WHEN THE migraine came on, Allory was able to pinpoint a direction from which she sensed the attack emanated most strongly. Half asleep and barely coherent, Yaarah confused her with Sabline – the nerve! Yet his memory in the morning was clear enough, so she dismissed her initial assessment of another oddity of behaviour. Alternating an hour’s marching at the speed of an indefatigable Elven lope with an hour’s flying, they split the nine hours before noon into three solid travel stints that ended when Ashueli and Sabline, mid cut and thrust in yet another of their quarrels, failed to spy the obvious – three young Giant hunters stirring in a grassy defile right ahead.

Allory had thought Giants must be huge and slow.

Huge, aye. Living mountains had nothing on them. Slow? Not so much.

As Yaarah clawed the Sable Sabrefang in the left haunch to gain her attention – the only part of her he could reach as she spat at the Princess over her shoulder – the threesome came smoothly alive, hefting their weapons and sporting broad, eager grins.

Suggids! Not good.

The sapphire mite hit an impressive note as she screeched, “Sabline! Duck!”

A twenty-foot javelin hurtling toward that sable head certainly focussed the attention. Sabline twisted and dipped perfectly, with Ashueli appearing to shrink closer to her spine as they avoided what was essentially a flying tree by a Dragon’s whisker. The Felidragons fled in a flash. Brandishing nets and javelins and booming with the delight of a team whose lunch had just presented itself to the pot for consideration, which was duly deemed acceptable, the blue-clad Giants sprinted after them at a speed she could barely credit. Then again, each running stride they took had to cover well over a hundred feet. Sable and gold swerved apart as another javelin whizzed by, pinning a stone column dead centre. Rock chips sprayed into their faces as they took a sharp turn.

Powerful hoots from behind echoed through the column forest, sending the predators into screeching, honking, roaring, flapping flight in all directions. Disturbance on a vast scale. So many brilliant wings and feathers and flashes of colour. Now they had another problem – avoiding all the other predators who were clearly not averse to pinching a ready meal from beneath the Giants’ noses.

Hair-raising flying at its best.

“Any ideas, Princess?” Sabline panted when they had a spare second.

“Need to get out of their sight,” she called. “Or find something bigger to attract their attention.”

“Like what?”

“We Elves usually try to avoid this scenario.”

“Hardly my fault, ssst-frrr!”

“No, really? Like looking backwards while flying forwards is a clever idea?”

The Sabrefang snarled, “Stupid royal, you just have to be right every time, don’t you?”

“Ladies, prrr-GNNAARRR!” Yaarah bellowed in frustration.

Allory frowned meantime, trying to sense the song, the lay of this terrain. The booming and hooting from behind bounced in multiple ways through the column forest, confusing her senses. Usually, Scintillant Faerie could navigate blindfolded through a complex, oftentimes deadly jungle environment – not so much the runt, but she had oftentimes practised around the colony with her indulgent pupae-siblings, honing skills no-one ever expected her to have to use. No time like the present.

Trees and rock faces whipped past in a blur. Allory struggled and failed to grasp her powers in the slightest. Incompetent as ever. Rub the temples. Beat herself over the head with a handy branch? Nothing seemed to help.

Yaarah’s wings flexed well enough meantime as the Felidragons flew on with impressive speed and skill, but she was concerned he was not ready yet to cope with the extreme stresses of such demanding flying.

“Giants are great runners, there’s no chance of outdistancing them,” the Princess shouted over her shoulder as they skirted another cluster of columns and hurtled along a hunting trail. Dozens of small, spindly-legged feathered lizards burst out before them, running upright on their toes. “Look out for argumasaurs. It’s our only – through there!”

Allory risked a backward glance and wished she had not. Two Giants shot around the previous corner as if gravity could not be bothered to grab their vast bulk and force it to obey ordinary physical laws. Smooth. Athletic. Barely tilting. Even their long flying hair did not bend sideways as it ought to according to the imperatives of mass and momentum. Bare legs and arms pumping, their clean blue leathers flapped loudly in the wind of their passage as they picked up speed like Hyperdragons on the hunt, closing in with every stride on this straighter stretch. They … their magic …

One of the Giants lunged!

Her inelegant yelp gave perfect warning. The Felidragons jinked upward as if tied together at the tail, avoiding his hand-swipe by a mere couple of feet. Yaarah tipped up on the strength of the gust that swipe generated and with exquisite timing, shot sideways through a three-foot gap between two columns. Roaring in frustration, the Giant behind them lowered his shoulder and smashed right through!

KABOOM!!

Allory’s twizzled her neck like a Russet Owl. Where –

A Giant loped along behind the columns to their left flank, holding a net between his extended hands. His expression was almost serene, calculating … her focus narrowed … suddenly, as if painted upon her perception in a millisecond that carried a masterpiece’s worth of detail, she focussed upon his fifteen-foot face. Deep brown eyes. Sweat pearling upon his upper lip. A curl of nut-brown hair stuck in the left corner of his mouth. She traced the slope of his shoulders leading to the massive, muscular arms that held the net just so. Guiding. Cutting off their escape. Pursing his lips, he boomed a sonorous note.

Her inner world rippled. Suddenly, Allory identified trajectories and possibilities and a course through the maze superimposed itself upon her vision in trails of azure sparkles; every column, every bush, every animal yielding itself to an all-encompassing hyper-awareness.

Suggids, what is – use it, you moron! Now!

This was what she had always been assured was possible, the Scintillant gift used by their best hunters. She had heard the stories. Was it always stress that triggered her abilities? Or was this runt just an awfully, awfully late developer?

Stolen story; please report.

“Left – that gap!” she piped.

The Felidragons swerved smoothly in tandem.

“Twenty feet down!”

They threaded a gap in the vegetation so narrow, Ashueli ended up eating leaves.

“Right-left-left … right – that crack! Left, again!” At rattletrap speed she talked the Dragons through aerial manoeuvres that involved ninety-degree blind turns, breath-snatching descents and even a tunnel that turned a loop in complete darkness. Rushing into another narrow stretch toward a broken, toppled column, she kicked Yaarah in the shoulder. “Down ninety! Straight ahead, dip – avoid the legs!”

“Mrrr … how?” he yowled.

Hissing in reaction yet doing exactly as she commanded, Yaarah and Sabline dipped so fast that black spots danced before Allory’s eyes, but she did not miss the mountainous hides of the biggest beasts she had ever seen, rushing down past her head, brushing her wingtips slightly in passing. They hurtled through a grove of thumpingly enormous legs, eight to a creature if she was not mistaken, each monster furnished with multiple tusks and humungous humped backs, all covered in armoured lizard hide. These creatures stood twice the height of any of those Giants chasing them. They made the stone columns look puny. Crimson eyes set very low on blocky muzzles watched with baleful interest as the tiny intruders jinked through the obstacle course beneath their bellies at top speed.

“Argumasaurs!” the Elf yelled.

“Who cares?” Sabline hissed. What else would she say?

“Eye shot!”

Yaarah bellowed, “Ashueli, no!”

Would she listen? A silver arrow spat from the Elf’s bow. The very next instant, a deafening bellow of agony shook the canyonlands. Instantly picked up by the herd of mammoth reptiles, it stampeded them into a blind panic. Rust-red dust billowed into the air as they stampeded in different directions, crashing into one another, toppling columns and destroying swathes of brush. Something smacked Yaarah in the hip. He slewed so hard that Allory tumbled free, tearing several hanks off golden fur off his shoulders with her fingers and toes. Instinct drove her wings upward, but self-preservation dropped her again as two flanks clashed above her like fighting mountains. She would have been bug-splatter upon those armoured hides. Instead, Allory whipped through the chaos, trying to keep low, to anticipate the movements of the eight-legged argumasaurs as they argued with one another.

Movement! She screamed as – oh, Sabline! An onyx paw snaffled her up.

“Got you!” she snarled.

“Yaarah!” Ashueli howled at a note Allory had never heard from her before. Regret, shame and panic flashed across her bronzed features.

Yaarah was down! Rolling in the dirt … the three females gasped in concert as an almighty foot stomped down on the Golden Purrmaine’s injured wing, right on the break site. For a second, he was pinned. Oddly, the weight – thousands of tonnes, it had to be – shifted off again and he rose flapping his wing with patent disbelief. Unscathed?

Four new Giants appeared above the boiling dust clouds, nets spread in their great hands, closing in fast – so there had been communication, as she had suspected!

“Other way!” Allory yelled, pointing behind them.

Rope sailed toward the quartet of companions but again, her timely warning gave the Felidragons chance to spiral out of harm’s way by the width of a furry tail or so. The Giants’ sonorous hoots chased them down a narrow defile choked with foliage higher up. Notes of laughter? Allory cast her senses ahead. Something was strung across their path, a spider’s web of –

She cried out, “Nets dead ahead!”

“The trail’s netted off,” the Princess yelled at the same instant. “Turn around!”

GNARRR! Yaarah bellowed.

The Felidragons baulked. Everyone heard the booming calls, the thumping footsteps of incoming Giants shaking the defile and the columns above. Their cries could be interpreted as nothing short of satisfaction. Successful hunt. They might have setup their nets for another purpose, but the hunters had directed the intruders into their trap with ease.

An idea sprang fully formed into her mind.

One chance.

Standing up upon Sabline’s back, Allory called, “Fly straight at the nets.”

“Mrrr-frrt-ssst!” Sabline spat incoherently, her hackles standing so tall someone could barely see past a waving sea of black fur.

“Madness!” Yaarah agreed, adding a wholly unnecessary eyeroll.

Despite that everything within her shrank to the size of one of her sapphire sparks, Allory managed to choke out, “It’s the only way. Trust me.”

The way they all hesitated was more than instructive. Maybe they could fight through the brambles choking the defile above, about two hundred feet overhead. Perhaps one could slip past the Giants, but she had sensed their magic and they heard the heavy cord scraping behind, cutting off any hope of escape. Like fishing for lunch, she supposed. Simple. Cornered, all that mattered now was to close the trap and work out which spices went best with the meat.

This Faerie knew better. If only they would believe her. All her insecurities and self-doubt surged to drag her down. She studied her dusty toes, the very picture of zero confidence. Why choose her? In all her Faeling years, no-one had ever chosen her for their team. Last pick. Every time.

Yaarah purred forcefully, “Let’s do as she says, mrrr-prrr! Come on, Allory. Shake your sparkles!”

Madcap Felidragon grin.

Whatever worked. Her sap practically sizzled in her veins. He trusted her enough to do this? Or was the madness infectious?

The Sabrefang snarled sharply as if wishing to deny the act, yet she still fell in right behind Yaarah as the Felidragons accelerated sharply toward the nets. The Scintillant tried to block out the drumbeat of footsteps thundering behind, the coarse laughter and a massive, heavily accented voice calling, ‘Wait up! Stay for lunch.’

Thanks for the invite, boys, but I wouldn’t even tickle your throats on the way down.

Grimacing, Allory raised her voice and sang a song of unbinding and unravelling. Despite her rock-bottom faith that anything might happen, no other choice presented itself.

One chance. One way.

Pure concentration now. Picture the desired result. That was just one big serami out there and she’d unravel it like Faesilk …

A small round gap drew apart in the thick layers of netting as Yaarah arrowed toward it. Plenty of room for a Faerie, not so much for a Felidragon. Yet he never faltered. The squares were only about six or seven inches across when the Golden Purrmaine intersected the outer layer of netting. He should have been helplessly ensnared. Instead, with perfect timing and a neat tuck of his wings, he proceeded to wriggle through a screen of cords that simply bent aside to accommodate him.

Sabline’s wings hitched in amazement. Less than a second later, her larger body swished through as well. Flawlessly.

The Felidragons and their passengers passed through four layers of heavy netting without so much as a scrape, as if they had slipped through the very veil of Faesilk she had imagined. Their eye-popping surprise caused her wings to quiver and then to spasm.

The Felidragons and their passengers passed through four layers of heavy netting without so much as a scrape, as if they had slipped through the very veil of Faesilk she had imagined.

Allory leaped into the air, pumping her fists and spinning about to cry, “Aye! Take that, you –”

Splat!

She never saw the source of the attack, just the end of a sticky purple tongue that splatted heavily against her lower back. Kicking off Sabline’s shoulder with a sideways aerial spin, Ashueli struck in a blur with one of her blades, severing the tongue in the action of retracting with spring-like speed to snaffle a careless Faerie like an insect into a wide, welcoming yellow mouth.

The Princess landed neatly on the trail and held her up by one leg to check her over, upside down. “Alright? Damage check?”

“Thanks. All good. What was that?”

“Chameleon.”

Allory folded her arms crossly. “That’s no chameleon.”

“Slightly bigger than the jungle variety?” inquired the Princess, with a pretty smile of infuriating smugness. Peeling the end of the tongue off a tiny blue backside, she tossed it into the nearby bushes, where a screech and an instant fight informed Allory that far more than just leaves lurked in there.

Freaking suggids with pink suggid sauce slathered on top!

Guess they liked tongue.

Then, before she could recover her dignity, the Elf coiled and then sprinted off after the Felidragons at a ridiculous velocity, waving her free hand as if to shoo the pair along. “Come along, mosquito. Life lesson? Even when you’re being ridiculously awesome, it’s wise never to celebrate too early. Nice work on the nets.”

Allory folded her arms and pouted extravagantly. “Humph.”

Success. Sort of.