The sun is just past it’s apex when I see the dark shape in the sky. For all I know, it’s the same one I saw when I spawned in.

I can’t quite make it out. It’s just a black blob, with occasional undulations around the edges, like the shadow of a manta ray.

At first, I don’t think much of it. It’s of passing interest, an oddity in the corner of my eye. Something to glance at, occasionally.

But recently it’s been getting closer, more defined. At an alarming speed.

I lean forward. “Hey. Hey, guys?”

“For the last time,” Sater says, “You do not have to use the bathroom. That got old like a half hour ago.”

Tanya’s already rolling her eyes.

“No, not that.” I say. “There’s something in the sky. I think it might be a dragon.”

Tanya perks up at that. “And?”

“Couldn’t it be, like, I dunno...a Black Dart thing?”

Tanya suddenly seems tense, alert. “Maybe. Could be. Where is it?”

I point.

She holds up a hand, shielding her eyes from the sun. “I see it.” She rummages in the inner breast pocket of her coat, pulls out a spyglass. She extends it, holds it up to her eye. “Easy. Slow down a little bit.”

Sater lets up on the gas, engine throbbing dully.

I’m suddenly more aware if the omnipresent heat. Thankfully, there’s a slight wind to combat it, causing it to wax and wane. It drags across the valley, pulling on the limbs of trees, rustling tall, dry grass against the rocks.

Tanya’s spyglass snaps loudly as she closes it. Her face is pale. “Get us off the trail.”

“Where?” Sater says, already turning the buggy.

“That tree.” Tanya says. “In the bushy area.”

It is indeed a bushy area. Some of the bushes are taller than me. The tree’s long branches extend outward over a ring of them, a mother hen covering chicks with its wings.

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The nose of the buggy parts the tangled arms of two thick bushes, wheels crunching and cracking as they slowly roll over sticks and rocks and dry leaves. The vehicle dips sideways from the bulging roots as Sater pulls up next to the trunk.

“Kill it.” Tanya says.

Grimacing, Sater pulls a lever, shutting off the engine.

I don’t like it, either. Even though we’re almost completely shrouded here, that just makes me feel all the more exposed, like we could be routed at any moment without even seeing it coming.

Tanya’s head is tilted at angle, gaze rotating between the skylit gaps overhead. If she were a hound, her ears would be perked up, twitching.

All I can hear is the scraping and scratching of the leaves. There’s a slight ringing in my ears, as if my brain is trying to fill the sensory hole the sound of the engine has left behind.

But then there’s something else. A gentle, white-noise pressure. A low, constant whoosh feeling. And it’s growing, like a dim rumble coming out of theater speakers, building in intensity until it feels like the seats themselves are shaking.

I find myself thinking of a blind man at a crosswalk, listening for an approaching car. “Is that...is it coming this way? Is it—yeah, yeah, I think it is. Yeah, definitely is.”

Shadow casts over the skylights in the tree, turning everything cold and dark.

THWUMP.

The sound echoes overheard. The entire tree shakes with the vibration of it, branches clattering. Surrounding bushes bristle, like living things. Dry leaves lift off of the ground, swirling.

The darkness lasts for a split-second. It feels like several minutes. A tense, suspenseful pocket of time without relent or escape.

The spinning leaves dissipate. Light returns, bursting down through the canopy. Tanya and Sater’s frozen faces are smattered with mingled pockets of sunlight and shade.

The rumble fades

(“Yep, there it goes, it’s passed, now…”)

Leaving only that faint white-noise behind, until even that seems to pass.

“Okay,” I say. “Now I really do have to go to the bathroom.”

Sater’s eyelids narrow down to slits. “What the hell did I tell you about that?”

“SHHH!!” Tanya says. “Both of you, keep it down. I’m trying to think.”

Sater seems about as uncomfortable with that as I am. Stopping to think means dwelling on the mounting facets of uncertainty.

“We’ll have to continue on foot.” She says, finally. “It’s only another couple of miles.”

“Yeah,” Sater says, “Up and over two or three ranges of mountains. No problem.”

“We’ll stay low,” Tanya says, ignoring him. “Using whatever cover we can.”

“Wait a minute, what’s the problem, here? Why can’t we just…” I gesture like I’m throwing a harpoon. “Kill the dragon. Keep moving.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” He leans low, suddenly aware of how loud his voice is getting. “The dragons were killed off a long time ago.”

“What, do you think I’m slow?” I say. “I literally just felt one pass over us.”

Tanya bites her lip. Her hair is messier than ever, a cascade of frizzy curls in every direction. “It’s a dragon, alright.” She says. “Someone’s riding it.”