Alika’s jaws wrapped around a thick rope, the loose strands of it scratching her tongue. Behind her, she pulled a wooden cart rolling over strewn about gravel. The rope pulled on her fangs each time it bumped against a stray stone. She glanced back every so often, making sure that Yarik hadn’t fallen off. Gust was walking alongside, exchanging whispered words with the bedridden captain.

Over the past little month, Yarik had slowly recovered, true to Gust’s word. In a switch of the earlier situation, Gust had been busy taking care of Yarik with his magic. Alika could tell that the Kurothian was drained; after his healing sessions each day with Yarik, Gust seemed able to do nothing but fall fast asleep.

Mira had also been busy doing as her mother had asked, and the Windrider had been prepared for the voyage east to Congla’s Canal and the Greater Gate leading to Lina. There’d been a number of excited volunteers to go sail with him, though only four had been chosen to make the journey — how they would return to Coldwater Bay would be a journey on its own. Fish had been pickled and charts had been marked.

Alika perked her ears as the cart rolled onto the dock with a clattering noise, though she couldn’t make out what Yarik was whispering to Gust. Gust placed his forepaws on the back of the cart, making sure that it wouldn’t roll off the side of the dock.

The Windrider rocked against the waves, the scorch marks still visible on its side. Its deck was more crowded than Alika had ever seen it — in addition to Avara and the rest of its new crew, Snow and Tarka were onboard, as well as Mira, her husband, and the baby.

“Come on, Yarik,” Gust gently suggested. “Let’s get you on Alika, okay? Think you can roll over?”

Alika dropped the rope and got in position as Yarik twisted his body. Gust floated over the cart, helping to guide Yarik as he climbed between Alika’s wings. Alika grunted, the human weighing her down. The gap between the dock and the Windrider suddenly seemed so much larger.

“Careful, careful,” Gust murmured, keeping two paws on Yarik, making sure he didn’t slide off as Alika stepped over the gap. Slowly, she made her way across, scooching until she was on the rocking boat for what would be the last time.

Alika carried Yarik to the open-air cabin, crouching down and letting Gust help Yarik off her back. She breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally in place.

“This ship is a mess!” Avara grumbled, wiping off a fingerful of grime from the gap between the canoes. “Mira, didn’t you get it cleaned?”

“I tried,” Mira sighed.

Avara turned to Yarik, examining the cabin up and down.

“How is this cabin supposed to keep out the wind, rain, and cold!” she muttered. “There’s no doors! No walls!”

“It isn’t,” Yarik weakly laughed, grinning from ear to ear. “I like to feel the wind in my hair, the rain on my skin, and the bite of the cold. Makes me feel alive, you see — what do you think kept me going for so long!”

“Nonsense. Complete nonsense.” Avara shook her head and clapped her hands, getting the crew’s attention. “Get some furs up around the cabin! I want to make sure my father is warm!”

The crew began figuring out how to wall off the cabin, as Mira took Larion from her husband, crouching down to Yarik and saying their goodbyes. Alika backed away, turning towards Gust. The Kurothian was panting with exhaustion.

“So, what were the two of you talking about?” Alika asked. “If it’s not a secret.”

Gust swished his tail, looking down at his forepaws, avoiding Alika’s gaze. “I asked Yarik if he wanted me to go with him to Lina. It would be good to give him more time with a healer, you know.”

“Oh,” Alika’s ears drooped down. “You’re leaving?”

Gust shook his head, twitching his whiskers. “Yarik said no. He told me my journey wasn’t quite over yet, and wanted me to go north with you instead.”

“Oh, good!” Alika replied. “I mean, not good. That he didn’t want you to go with him. That’s too bad. It’s really cold up north. I think. Probably.”

Gust looked up, meeting Alika’s gaze. “Yeah. I can’t exactly refuse Yarik’s last wishes, so it seems we’re stuck together for now.”

Alika flicked the end of her tail. She was relieved, but she wasn’t quite sure why. She would be glad to have Gust with her on their journey — he was a welcome addition to moderate Snow and Tarka’s antics — but eventually, she and Tarka would find their pack, and that journey would come to an end. What would Gust do then? Stay with them? The Tasish icecap wasn’t a particularly suitable climate for him.

“It’s time to say your goodbyes!” Avara called out as Mira got up from the cabin. “Come on, we don’t have all day!”

As Avara said her own goodbyes to her daughter and grandson, Alika and Gust headed into the cabin, pushing hastily draped furs aside. Tarka and Snow snuck in beneath one of Alika’s wings, and the four former crewmates circled around their captain.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were dying!” Snow accused Yarik.

Alika’s tail twitched. Was it going to be this again?

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Yarik lifted his head until it was eye-level with the fox. “You wouldn’t have wanted to know.”

“Of course I wouldn’t have!” Snow whipped her tails. “Why can’t humans and dragons just live forever?”

“It’s just the way things are, Snow.”

“How did you do it?” Snow asked, putting her snout up so close to Yarik’s face that her whiskers brushed his skin.

“Do what?”

“Live so long while remaining so young!” Snow’s tails moved agitatedly. “I need to know!”

“Hm.” Yarik pondered this for a moment. “I swallowed a bit too much ringfall as a boy, I suppose.” He let out a quiet cough. “It seems, however, that what kept me strong might have almost did me in.”

“Nonsense!”

Alika jumped, rocking the ship as Avara poked her head into the cabin.

“You’re spouting more nonsense to this poor kit!” Avara accused. “I breathed in ringfall just as well on our voyages, and you know it! And look how wrinkled I am now!”

Yarik chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. Perhaps I just forgot to grow older?”

Avara pulled back through the curtains, muttering under her breath.

“Alright, got it. Cold, rain, wind, ringfall, and a bit of forgetfulness.” Snow looked up at Alika with a cunning glint in her eyes. “We can work with that.”

Alika felt a strange chill.

“Tarka,” Yarik coughed. “Can you make me a promise?”

“Yeah!” Tarka replied, wagging his tail, almost whacking Snow with it.

“Remember that your sister means well,” Yarik said. “And always, always be brave.”

“That cub could do with a bit less bravery if you ask me!” Avara interrupted from behind the curtain.

Tarka nodded his snout, ignoring her. “Of course! I swear!”

“I have a gift for you,” Yarik continued.

Tarka’s eyes opened wide, wiggling his wings in excitement. “What is it? Ooh, ooh, let me guess. A spear that shoots lightning? A necklace that lets me explode things with my mind?”

“Not quite!” Yarik laughed, turning around and reaching into one of the drawers of the desk. He pulled out his stringed instrument, handing it to Tarka.

“Wow!” Tarka sat back on his hindlegs, gracefully accepting it with both forepaws. “So, um, what does it do?”

“Well, it plays a jaunty sea shanty, especially if Gust here is singing along!” Yarik explained.

“Oh.” Tarka’s ears drooped slightly. He shook the disappointment off and gave the instrument a strum. “That’s, er, cool. Thank you so much!”

Yarik gave Tarka a weak pat on the neck before turning to Snow.

“The only gift I want is not having to say goodbye,” Snow huffed, whipping her tails.

“I know,” Yarik said. With one arm, he gave her a gentle hug. The fox froze up while he did so, before nosing him in his shoulder. “But by my leaving, you’ll have more room in your heart to welcome someone new in.”

“No, I won’t,” Snow whined. “I’ll just have a giant unfillable hole. Yarik, please don’t go!”

Yarik smiled. “A few centuries from now, when you’re busy ruling the world, I hope that the Great Demon Fox Snow remembers that most humans are good like me. Give them another chance, will you?”

“Not like you,” Snow whimpered, shaking her head. “Not like you.”

Yarik let go of Snow, and turned to Gust. “I suspect that your words are advice for me, rather than the other way around.”

“Light exercise only, and no more fighting dragons or Scribes.” Gust gave Yarik a toothy grin.

“Of course.” Yarik nodded. “I hope that you’ll learn to love Tasien as much as I have, though it seems that I’m being made to leave it behind. The winters are cold, but you’ll find warmth here nonetheless.”

Gust lowered his snout, and Yarik gave it a rub.

Finally, Yarik turned to Alika.

“And a gift for you,” Yarik said. “Gust, will you help keep my head upright for a moment?”

Gust moved his tail beneath Yarik’s neck, allowing Yarik to lean back on it. Yarik moved his hands to the back of his neck, fiddling with something before raising his hands towards Alika. His fist wrapped around a silver chain, his Wayfinder dangling from it.

“For me?” Alika cocked her head as she held out a paw, allowing Yarik to drop the Wayfinder within it. The chain curled around her claws, seeming far too short for her neck. She stared into the glowing crystal. More valuable than the Windrider itself was what he’d said. “But why? Won’t Avara need it more than me? I can already see my own path, sort of.”

“Ah, but a leader must not know only her own path,” Yarik replied. “Perhaps one day, it will show you someone else’s.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Alika sighed.

“It also carries my scent on it,” Yarik explained. “If you present it to the packs of the Summerlands, it will guarantee you safe passage. Many of the packs owe me a favor or two, you see.”

“Ah.” Alika tried stretching the chain around her neck, only to find that the fit was perfect. It clasped with ease. She let out a long puff of warm breath, staring down into the human’s tired eyes. “I’ll miss you, you know. There’s a part of me which wants to go with you to Lina.”

“I’ll miss you as well.” Yarik raised his hands and gave Alika a rub behind her ears. “But your path leads north, does it not? Just promise me that in the many adventures and the many years you have yet to have, you won’t forget me.”

“I won’t,” Alika purred, nuzzling Yarik’s head. “If I ever have cubs, I’ll make sure to name one after you.”

Avara’s head suddenly poked through the curtain again.

“Are you done playing King of the North? Stormwinds are on the horizon,” Avara interrupted. “Our sailors are itching to leave before it hits.”

Yarik nodded and pulled his hands away from Alika, resting his head back on the deck. “Then it’s time. Farewell, and may we meet again.”

Tears in her eyes, Alika turned away, following Avara out from the cabin. She stepped onto the docks, joining Mira and Larion. The others followed, all of them silent and solemn.

Avara cast off the lines, blowing kisses to her daughter and grandson. The sailors rowed, and the Windrider slowly headed out into the bay. The twin sails unfurled, and a breeze carried the Windrider toward the open sea.

As they left, the wind lifted up the cabin’s curtains. Yarik was sitting up, waving goodbye. Alika raised a wing to do the same.

“May the winds always fill your sails, and may the ice never crack beneath your paws!” Yarik laughed.

And as its one-time crew watched from the docks, the Windrider turned to the east, following the rising sun into another world.