The four took turns taking watch that next day — both over Littletooth, and just in case Tshav got free from his watery prison. Alika and Yarik had been the most involved in the fight, so they’d gotten first rest. Alika had slept through the day, and it wasn’t until the sun was below the horizon again that she’d woken.

The seas that night were peaceful, the skies clear and full of stars. Yarik had been right, in this case — the doldrums were calm, the winds still. Alika certainly didn’t mind. She needed some peace and calm after the ordeal of the storm.

Snow and Tarka were fast asleep beneath the stars, as Littletooth was taking up most of the cabin’s bedding. Tarka was curled around the fox, and the two had formed a breathing mass of white and cream fur.

Yarik was sitting at the back of the Windrider and was busy fiddling with a small stringed instrument that he held in his lap. Apparently, he’d needed to restring it after the storm but had completed that task and had now set his sights on playing it. Occasionally, he’d strum one of the strings, launching a haunting tone into the air that merged with his raspy voice. His songs were as calm as the waves, but Alika didn’t understand a word of them — they were all in a human language.

As Yarik plucked his strings, Alika was busy tending to Littletooth. His body was coiled up under the cabin, and holes in the roofing cast beams of moonlight down upon his teal scales. Ropes had been wrapped around each of his legs, tying him down to the boat. His wounds weren’t as deep as Alika thought they should have been, having seen the size of Tshav’s claws, but the scratches still covered his body.

Alika spat onto the palm of her furry paw, rubbing it across Littletooth’s smooth body and massaging her spittle into the wounds. It would help him heal, and she wondered if Kurothian spit worked the same way. Yarik hummed his tune, and strum a sleep chord across his instrument.

Alika looked up into the night sky through one of the larger holes, trying to find Kuroth in it. Yarik had pointed it out earlier to her, explaining that it was one of the brightest stars in the sky, and unlike most stars, it would wander along the sun’s path along with five other realms, though apparently the Shattered Realm couldn’t usually be seen unless it was nearby. Admittedly, Alika hadn’t spent all too much time watching the stars until she’d boarded the Windrider — Serka had always taught her and Tarka to be back in their den before dusk — but she was still embarrassed to have known so little about them.

Alika stared down at Littletooth’s sinuous body. It was amazing to think that he’d come from so far. In a way, he had, quite literally, fallen from the stars.

As she moved her spit-soaked paw along Littletooth’s neck, his scales suddenly shifted beneath it. Alika tensed up, her claws extending. He was smaller than Tshav and hadn’t seemed interested in harming them, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

The Kurothian dragged an eyelid open, glittering green beneath it. He stared at Alika for a moment, moving one of his flimsy legs. It tugged against the rope. Alika kept her sharp talons to his neck.

His whiskers fluttered, and opened his jaws, saying something in a beautiful, singsongy language, of which Alika recognized no words.

“Hey, Littletooth’s awake!” Alika announced to Yarik. Perhaps they should wake up Snow to translate, but Alika wasn’t looking forward to the earful she’d get.

“Littletooth?” Littletooth repeated the word. He twisted his body, pulling on the ropes, and looked up at the sky through one of the holes. “I’m on Tasien?”

Littletooth’s voice was just as smooth as his scales, nothing like the growling barks of the dragons she was used to, or Snow’s yipping and the humans’ yapping. Alika felt almost like it would lull her to sleep if she let it.

“You can speak our language?” Alika asked. “That makes this easier.”

“I studied Tasish in Academy, though I never thought I’d have to use it,” he explained. His eye moved up and down in its socket, scanning Alika. “So that means I made it. I’m here.”

“You almost sunk our ship,” Alika glowered. So he’d come here intentionally?

“My sincerest apologies,” Littletooth replied, lowering his head a tad. A nervous energy came into him, and he strained against the ropes as he tried to look around, clearly worried about something.

“We took care of the dragon that came through with you,” Alika said, neglecting to mention that they’d almost lost their lives in the process. “And if you try anything, we’ll do the same with you.”

The threat was, of course, empty — he could breathe underwater and, unlike Tshav, presumably untie himself. Still, it was the thought that counted.

“Ah,” Littletooth let out a puff of breath and relaxed in his bonds. His tail stretched out, and he lowered his head back to the deck, keeping one eye on Alika. “That’s quite a relief. I would much prefer being caught by you.”

“You’re not going to try and escape?” Alika’s ears twitched. If she’d been caught in ropes, she wouldn’t be acting so amicable.

“You haven’t hurt me yet, have you?” Littletooth smiled, showing off a row of tiny fangs. “I trust that I’m safe here. Again, I am truly sorry about any mess I made.”

As Alika stared in silence, Littletooth’s gaze turned to his foreleg, where the half-melted bracelet still clung on.

“It looks like there’s no going back,” he said, trying to wriggle it off him without pulling at the ropes. His body barely moved. Even without the ropes, it looked as if his limbs were frozen to the deck. “Would you mind helping to get this contraption off me? I don’t seem to have the energy to do it myself.”

Yarik hummed in the background, plucking at his strings.

“Yeah, why not,” Alika sighed. She placed her snout down to the bracelet and gave it a tentative lick with her tongue. Strangely enough, the molten metal was only warm to the touch. It actually tasted quite good, sweet and tangy. It easily slipped down her throat, oddly filling. Weird.

Littletooth opened his mouth as if he were about to object, but said nothing.

The metallic meal was soon done, Alika’s tongue dragged along Littletooth’s smooth scales, cleaning off bits of precious metal that had been stuck between them. He tensed in his chains.

“Um, thank you,” Littletooth said once Alika had pulled her snout away. He shut his eyes, lowering his head to the wood. “I feel awful. I’m never using one of those again. I think I might sleep for a decade.”

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“Hey Littletooth! No going back to sleep just yet.” Alika shook his head with a paw, and he opened an eye once more. “You need to explain yourself. I don’t even know what your real name is!”

“It is not Littletooth, I can tell you that much.” He trilled an odd musical noise that came out through his nostrils. “I suppose I must look strange though, with how large your own fangs are in contrast.”

“My fangs are a perfectly respectable size!” Alika growled, lowering her huge saber fangs to Littletooth’s snout as if showing off just how large they were compared to his.

“I meant no offense. There is nothing wrong with them,” he replied, trilling again. “With fangs like those, I can see how even one of the Crimson Counts fell before you.”

“Are you talking about Tshav?” Alika asked. Her gaze narrowed. “Wait, was that sarcasm? Are you insulting my fangs?”

“No, no, it was a compliment!” He trilled louder, a few warbled tones in his snout. “Wait, is ‘Tshav’ what you call him? It just means ‘Kill’ in his language, that’s like calling a dragon ‘Fly’ or ‘Sing’ or something like that.”

Alika bared her teeth wider, showing off some of the smaller ones in addition to her saber fangs. She let out a low growl, slapping her tail on the deck.

“Sorry, sorry!” he gulped. “I have a bit of a tendency to talk my snout clean off in situations like this, you see, and am a bit more than just mildly shimmer sick.”

“Situations like this?” Alika asked, placing a paw on his bonds. “I take it getting interrogated after falling through a portal is an everyday thing for you? That’s what this is, by the way: an interrogation. Now, your name, Littletooth, and don’t make me ask you again.”

“I am named and titled Turquoise Gust, Fourth Soprano of the Nine Isle Commonwealth, but most just call me Gust,” he answered. A dribble of drool came from the side of his jaws as he said it, and Alika felt tremors in his body. “I really don’t mean to cause any offense. I am sincerely grateful for everything you’ve done for me — I would not be alive to say this without you.”

“Who was the dragon who attacked you, and why?”

“One of the Crimson Counts, the elite assassins of the Pearl Princess.” His voice wavered as he said this. “They destroyed my home and murdered my family. They were after me for my voice.”

“Your voice?” Alika softened a tad. “That still doesn’t explain anything. Look, I only found out yesterday that you could actually visit some of the stars. Can you start at the beginning?”

Gust let out a wet puff of air. “I sincerely apologize for any accidental rudeness in my tones and pitches, but I am not a powerful mage, hence why I am Fourth Soprano instead of First. Ripping a hole between the realms takes a lot of shimmer out of me, and you just devoured my only hope of regaining it without the slow process of auric infusion. I’m not sure I can coherently offer you a sufficient background explanation of the current sociopolitical climate of Kuroth, particularly in a language I’ve never spoken outside of academy classes. If you’re looking for something simple and concise, you will have to be patient.”

“What?” Alika cocked her head.

“Used too much magic,” Gust stated. “Tired.”

Alika glowered, flicking her ears. She wasn’t getting anywhere with this.

“I’m sorry for all this trouble,” Gust sighed. “I really should have asked earlier, but what’s your name?”

“Alika,” she replied, not seeing any harm in sharing it. As frustrating as this was, it didn’t seem like Gust wanted to hurt them, or even get free.

“That’s a good name. Do humans and dragons normally live on boats in Tasien?” His open eye shifted to look at Yarik.

“Not usually. I’m on a journey with my brother to find our pack in the north. We just happen to keep finding tag-alongs.”

“Well then. I hope I’m not too much of a burden to your travels. It was quite fortunate that I landed on your boat rather than anywhere else.” His tail gave an exhausted flick, brushing the end of his mane against Alika’s furred wings. “Why do you not just… use these?”

“My wings?” Alika pulled them close to her body. “That’s none of your business!”

“They’re so… big,” Gust whispered, his visible eye opening wide. Another string of drool dripped out from his jaws. “Such big wings.”

“Um,” Alika said, not sure how to reply to that. He really did seem tired. He said he was sick: perhaps he was recovering from some sort of food poisoning.

“It must feel so good flying with them instead of floating,” Gust mumbled. He shut his eyes. “Wind under them, lifting you up and down, sailing with…”

At this point, Gust trailed off and began to speak in what Alika was pretty sure was another language. She doubted that even Snow could understand what he was saying, however.

Alika let out a loud sigh. Yarik’s music made its way across the deck, gently notes rising and falling with his hums. Here she was, on a boat with a human, a fox, and a dragon from another world. What would Serka have done in this scenario?

Moonlight caught Alika’s eyes, and she looked up at the stars. The rings were still just a thin line across the sky. Though the sea wasn’t frozen, it reminded Alika of the few times in the Long Night when Serka had let them leave the den.

That’s what Serka would have done — she would have told a story.

“A long, long time ago, the Dreamer had three beautiful daughters who lived in the sky,” she began. Gust stopped mumbling, and one of his pointed ears twitched. “The world was good and warm. The winters were short, and prey was plenty. But Nigel was jealous, so he killed her eldest daughter, and made her his own.”

“Nigel?” Gust asked, his voice just a whisper.

“The Frozen One,” Alika hissed, raising her talons and letting her snout retreat into the shadows. “A demon born of the coldest ice. He has no heart, and so can feel no warmth. He steals the warmth and hearts of dragons, out of jealousy for our fire.”

“Is he real?”

“Of course he is!” Alika cackled, thrusting her snout back into the moonlight, revealing her saber fangs to Gust. “He wanders the ice, looking for dragons to take as his own, just so he can fill up the nothingness inside him but for an instant. Now, be quiet, and speak not his name too loudly: or else he will come for you!”

Gust said nothing.

“After killing the Dreamer’s eldest daughter, Nigel scattered her bones in the sky to taunt her mother, forming the rings of Tasien. But even in death, the Dreamer’s daughter was defiant. When Nigel grabbed her heart, it was so hot that it burned his talons, and he dropped it. And so, the Twins summoned the winds, bringing the heart down to Tasien, far in the north.

“But it was too late, and the Dreamer had thought her daughter gone forever, sucked into Nigel’s nothingness. So she grieved and grew cold, while the lands of Tasien froze over. Yet, the magic of the heart remained, for the eldest sister had hope, and Nigel could not take her, even in death. Mountains rose in a ring around where it had fallen, and the eldest created a land that was safe from Nigel’s curse. The sea around it never froze, green trees and grass grew over the heart, and prey abounded across the land.

“The dragons of the north watched as the world around them froze and died, too cold for even them to live. But while most packs moved further south, a dragon named Ka took her pack north, following the streaks of light left in the sky by the falling heart. Upon reaching it, her pack became the pack of the Emerald Isle, and they prospered for many generations, their bodies warm and their bellies full.”

Alika stopped, realizing that Gust hadn’t said anything for a while. She stared at the Kurothian, his serpentine body gently rising and falling, his eyes shut. He’d fallen fast asleep.

Yarik hummed, his music melding with the waves. Alika met his gaze.

“You might as well sleep,” Yarik said to her. “I will keep watch until the morning, but I don’t believe that Gust is a threat. The danger has passed.”

Alika nodded her snout. Injured and tired as she was, the call of the Dreamer still beckoned her.

“Goodnight, Littletooth,” she murmured, laying her body down on the deck. The stars above wandered past, and she wondered what secrets they held.

Alika drifted off on the sound of water and soft music, the Windrider swaying beneath her.