Alika walked over to the rear of the ship, where Gust stood on the aft of one of the canoes. The dragon was staring out into the ocean behind them. Alika followed his gaze: there was nothing but sky, clouds, and calm waters.

“Hey Littletooth,” Alika said.

Gust leaped in the air, whiskers vibrating. He didn’t land back on the ship, instead, hovering a claw-length above the deck as he twisted around to face Alika.

“It’s just me,” Alika grinned, pointing her saber fangs upward. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You okay?”

“Um, oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Gust replied, his whiskers settling down. He landed back on the deck, glancing over his backside in a move so flexible it made Alika jealous. “Sorry about that.”

“Are you looking for Tshav?” Alika asked.

“Is it that obvious?” Gust let out a sigh, breathing a small puff of wind onto Alika’s snout.

“Yeah.” Alika squinted the dragon’s chest, covered in teal scales. She tried to imagine where his lungs were, but had trouble placing them — he was so long.

“I’m sorry about that,” Gust murmured, looking over his back again.

“You saved all of us,” Alika slammed her tail on the deck. “You don’t have to apologize for keeping lookout.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Gust said.

Alika bared her fangs, bringing them up to Gust’s snout, so close that her saber fangs brushed his whiskers. “If you say sorry one more time, I will shove you overboard.”

Gust gulped, trying to back away. His hindpaw stepped off the back of the boat, and he quickly brought it back in.

“I don’t mean any rudeness,” Gust replied. “I know that the Crimson Count is at the bottom of the ocean, and that I’m safe here. It’s just that I’ve been flying from them for so long and so far, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m still being chased. That they’re still out there somewhere, looking for me.” He let out a bitter laugh. “If hiding in a different realm couldn’t stop them, what could?”

“Us, obviously,” Alika snorted. “We stopped them. It was pretty cool.”

“They’re unstoppable,” Gust pressed. “Even if we sunk them all to the bottom of the sea, the Pearl Princess will never stop looking for me. I’m not safe here, I’m not safe anywhere. And so long as I’m on the Windrider, all of you are in danger as well.” He lowered his head, his whiskers sinking. “I’m sorry for putting you all in such peril.”

Alika reared up and slammed her forepaws into Gust’s lithe body. He let out a high-pitched squeal as she shoved him over the side of the ship. He landed in the sea, water dripping down his scales as he floated up from the surface.

“Hey!” Gust said, his mane all soggy.

“Told you I would!” Alika grinned. She backed up a few steps, then sprinted at the edge of the boat.

“Wait, no, don’t—” Gust cried.

Alika leaped from the Windrider, wings out as she tackled the levitating Gust back into the water. The two landed in the ocean, Alika’s weight sending up a giant splash, like a boulder had been dropped into the sea. Saltwater rubbed her nose as she opened her eyes, holding the squirming Gust as they sunk.

Underwater, Gust’s scales were as slippery as a fish’s, and he slithered out from her grasp with ease. His long tail wagged, and bubbles came forth from his jaws as he tried to laugh.

Alika playfully lunged at him, using her tail to propel her forward. She managed to grasp one of his legs, and Gust began to pull Alika underwater, trying to throw her off. He whacked her in the snout with his tail until she let go.

The two resurfaced, laughing. Small waves swayed them up and down, and Alika paddled to keep afloat. She splashed him in his open snout in with water — a mistake, as Gust lifted his body out of the water, skimming it with his tail and sending a wave crashing over Alika.

The dragons kept playing as the sun sunk lower in the sky, occasionally making sure that they didn’t drift too far from the Windrider. When they were done, Alika’s legs and wings were aching, and she rested belly-up in the water, rising and falling with it. She stretched out her wings.

“It’s been forever since I’ve gone swimming — intentionally, at least.” Gust floated on the water’s surface next to her, splayed out in a S-like shape. “I’d almost forgotten how good the water felt.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Alika snorted. With a flap of her wings, she turned herself around. “Where we’re going, you’ll only have frigid ice floes to swim in.”

“That sounds chilly.”

From the corner of her eye, Alika saw Gust raise his head and turn to the southwest. Apparently, she hadn’t managed to distract him for long.

“Hey, you’re officially part of the crew now,” Alika reminded him. “We’re not going to leave you behind for Tshav, if he even is still out there.”

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze still focused on the horizon. “Of course. Thank you.”

Alika let out a puff of air and rolled onto her stomach. There was nothing there. Even the clouds didn’t look vaguely dragon-shaped.

“Would talking about it make you feel better?” Alika suggested. “You’ve never really told us what happened.”

“I suppose it could be worth a shot.” Gust rolled over, stretching out his body and tail, bending his spine upward. With his paws on the water’s surface, him floating gave Alika the illusion that he was standing on top of the sea. “I believe I mentioned that I’m from the Nine Island Commonwealth — a country of floating islands at the edge of the Moonless Lands.”

“Wait, slow down,” Alika replied. “Country? Floating islands? Moonless Lands?”

“Um, well, a country is like a kingdom, or a pack’s territory, but larger.” Gust flicked his tail, the sea breeze ruffling his wet mane. “And a commonwealth is like a kingdom without a king. And a kingdom is—”

“I know what a kingdom is,” Alika interrupted.

“Yes, of course,” Gust continued. “And a floating island is exactly what it sounds like, an island which floats. And the Moonless Lands are the half of Kuroth that the Cursed Moon never rises over.”

“Wait, slow down!” Alika laughed. “That explains nothing!”

Gust tilted his head from side to side in thought, then pointed a claw to the eastern horizon, where the smaller of Twins was currently rising.

“The moons of Tasien move around like the sun,” he explained. “But on Kuroth, our moon is still in the sky. Because of that, only one side of the world — the Cursed Lands — see it.”

Alika’s mind went back to the orrery in the Scribes, trying to picture what Gust was describing. “Okay, I think I understand. It moves as Kuroth turns?”

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“Exactly. But because our moon was cursed in the Cataclysm, no one lives in the Cursed Lands. Anyone who lives too long beneath its evil gaze without a Leaden Cloak gets cursed, and becomes sick and dies unless a healer like me helps them.”

“So healers on Kuroth must be valuable then,” Alika surmised. “In case someone gets cursed.”

“Very much so,” Gust flicked his snout. “And because for centuries, only the Commonwealth Choir knew the secrets of healing, the Nine Isle Commonwealth became very rich and powerful. It’s the most beautiful place in the world, perhaps in all of the worlds.” He raised a paw dramatically. “There are concert halls as grand and glittering as palaces, waterfalls which sing to you, and an island made of iron pipes that plays melodies as grand as the sunrise! And the dragons there are so kindhearted and generous. It was like nowhere else.”

“It sounds like you miss it.” Alika sighed. Her home in the south hadn’t been quite so magnificent, but she understood the feeling.

“I do dearly,” Gust whimpered, lowering his head. “But there’s nothing left there to miss anymore.”

“The Pearl Princess?” Alika asked.

“Yes,” Gust hissed. He bared his fangs, curling his talons with a rage and bloodlust that Alika would have never expected from him. “I saw her only once in the flesh, and it was the most terrifying moment of my life. She looks like a dragon, moves like a dragon, but she’s… she’s something else. A monster. A demon. I could just feel it pouring off her, how the dragons around her were just playthings to her, pieces of clay that she could mold to her will. I saw her do it. She grabbed a Choir member and sank her tendrils into him, twisting him around until he was, he was—”

Gust choked up at this, his voice cut off into silence.

Alika grabbed one of his paws. It was trembling. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Gust shook his head. “For all I know, she could have done something to me, and I would have no idea. How can I even trust my thoughts? Alika, can you make me a promise? If I ever… if she ever gets me, I want you to end it. Make sure I can’t do any harm.”

“Um,” Alika said.

“No, no, nevermind.” Gust pulled his paw back. “It’s not fair of me to ask that of you.” He looked straight at Alika, his eyes wild, the scent of fear on his breath. “Context. Context. You need context, right?”

“That would be helpful,” Alika murmured.

“I only know tales about where she came from. Supposedly, the Crimson Counts — the leaders of a rival country far to our south that was in debt to the Commonwealth — found her on a pilgrimage to the Cursed Lands. She had healing so great that neither curse nor starvation could touch her. They took it as a sign, a miracle, and so they adopted her as their own. Their nation finally a healer of their own, and the Commonwealth Choir lost a lot of business because of it, because just her touch could purify the dragon of any dragon. Missing limbs, lingering fatigues, lunacy, and old age all fell before her, and she did it all for free. The Counts claimed that one day, she would travel to the Cursed Moon, heal it, and even defeat death itself, and Kuroth believed them.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Alika replied.

“It wasn’t. I mean, the Choir wasn’t happy about it, but it was a good thing for the world as a whole. But half a year ago, it all changed — the dragons that she had touched suddenly turned on their countries, revolting and slaughtering their leaders, swearing eternal allegiance to her. The Crimson Counts fell under her spell and transformed into mindless killers, unable to die. She had done something to all of them, changing them somehow, without anyone knowing. The only hope was the Commonwealth Choir: our eldest singers figured out a crude method of reversing what she’d done.”

“So she destroyed the Choir,” Alika inferred.

“Yes,” Gust whimpered. “Every last member of the Choir was slaughtered, but not before they turned on their friends, families, and thousands upon thousands of innocent civilians. The streets ran red with their blood, and the Pearl Princess drank from it. My friends and teachers… all of them were murdered. Every single one.”

“Except you,” Alika said. “You escaped.”

Gust took in a deep breath, staring at the water to calm himself. “I did. I was… I suppose you could call it lucky. The Crimson Counts’ first priorities were white-scaled dragons, the locals of the Commonwealth. I am clearly not one of those — so they passed over me. My family is from the east, and paid the Choir a fortune so that they would teach me the healing arts, so that one day I could return and help their kingdom.”

“Their kingdom?” Alika asked. “Wait, are you a prince?”

“Um.” Gust shifted, rubbing his tail tuft against his neck.

“Your majesty!” Alika bowed her head to the water’s surface.

Gust gave Alika a gentle swat on her snout, causing her to sneeze. “Absolutely no bowing. I had enough of that from one of my friends in the Choir. He would do this ridiculous bow every time I passed by him. Every time!” Gust’s eyes glazed over, and he fell silent.

“You okay?” Alika asked.

“Just knowing I won’t see him again,” he said. “I hope it was quick.” Gust let out another sigh, waving his paws against the water’s surface. “But, please, I’m no one important, just fifth in line for a tiny kingdom. Assuming, of course, that my kingdom still exists, and hasn’t been overrun by the Pearl Princess’s hoards.”

“You sound pretty important,” Alika brought up. “You’re the last healer of Kuroth, aren’t you? If the Pearl Princess is chasing you between realms, that means she’s afraid of you. You’re Kuroth’s last hope.”

Gust laughed, his voice loud and bitter. “Their last hope? If that’s me, then Kuroth is doomed. Perhaps in another hundred years, the old masters could have taught me to undo what the Pearl Princess did, but the old masters are all dead, and all hope is lost with them. No, the Pearl Princess just wants me dead so that her victory is complete, but it already is. If there is to be a savior of Kuroth, they will not come from within — and the Seven Clans of Tuca have already refused our aid, as apparently this matter ‘affects only a single realm, and as such, is not technically apocalyptic.’ Unless the Princess decides to expand her territory across the stars, Kuroth is lost, as are its people.”

“Oh.” Alika was not sure what else there was to say.

“But none of that matters anymore,” Gust continued. “All of it is far behind me. Now, I’m on Tasien, and I’m ready to begin a new life. Even if it is quite cold, and all the dragons’ fangs here are far too big.” He gave Alika a weak smile.

“Hey!” Alika purred, splashing him again.

Gust shook the water off, twisting his body around.

“I understand though, sort of,” Alika said. “It’s pretty far from… pseudo-apocalyptic, but Tarka and I also lost our home and family. Hey, can I give you a hug?”

“I suppose?” Gust replied.

Alika paddled over to Gust and wrapped her forelegs around him in a tight bear hug, the Kurothian’s body slim enough that she could touch the tips of her claws to one enough. She squeezed, and Gust let out a soft squeak.

As Alika gave Gust the most dangerous hug of his life, Tarka was meanwhile busy helping Yarik inventory and stow objects that had been rattled around during the Windrider’s flight, though his method of helping seemed primarily to consist of poking and prodding everything Yarik had already put away.

“Hey, uh, Yarik?” Tarka asked.

Yarik had rolled out a ship’s chart and was fiddling with his Wayfinder to set out their new course. “Yes, Tarka?”

Tarka squirmed, fidgeting his wings back and forth and pacing around like a nervous hare. “Um. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Yarik lifted his eyes from the charts. “Sorry for what?”

“Well,” Tarka huffed, “I sort of messed up the Scribe’s magic and almost got you killed. And also I broke your boat.”

Yarik laughed, shaking his head. “Tarka, it would take more than that to kill me. On the contrary, I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m the one who suggested Smuggler’s Way, after all.”

“I guess,” Tarka replied. He shuffled his paws and looked out to the water. “Yarik? Do you think that my mom’s death was my fault?”

“She was killed by wolves, was she not?” Yarik asked.

“Yeah, but it was only to save me.” Tarka’s ears drooped.

“Fault, no fault, who deserves the blame?” Yarik shook his head. “Blame is a thousand arrows that never points straight. You can blame the seals for eating the fish, but whose fault is that? Perhaps the Dreamer is the only one to blame, for she dreamt us to be creatures of flesh and blood, and even she deserves forgiveness for that. Do you forgive me, Tarka?”

“Forgive you? For what?” Tarka cocked his head.

“For putting you all in danger.”

“Of course I do!” Tarka exclaimed.

Yarik nodded. “Then I’ll forgive you for whatever you did or didn’t do, and I’m sure that up on the Twins, Serka forgives you just as much — even if you don’t need it.”

Tarka lifted his head to the sky, watching one of the Twins rise. “Thanks, Mom.”

As Tarka and Yarik spoke, Snow lay flat on the cabin’s roof. Her gaze was focused on the water as Alika and Gust played in the waves, splashing and laughing. Alika grabbed Gust’s tail, and he kicked water into Alika’s snout.

If Snow had the power, she would have frozen this scene forever, perfect and crystalline, preserved for eternity. The five of them would partake on a never-ending voyage, sailing from island to island, from adventure to adventure.

Yet, Snow knew that in a heartbeat, it would all be over. She had seen it all before. They would reach the north, and the moment would escape her claws. In a heartbeat, two playful dragons would become two young lovers, and in a heartbeat after that, two loving parents. A heartbeat, and they would be nothing but bones and memories in their cubs and their cubs’ cubs, and in another heartbeat, not even the memories would remain.

And Snow would have a few more tails.

The fox buried her snout in her paws, while small white flakes drifted down from the heavens.