Throughout the remainder of their time in Coldwater Bay, the four were well-fed by Mira and her husband. It took Alika some time to feel fully comfortable on land again after spending so long on the water — she could still feel the Windrider’s rocking in her sleep, and her dreams were full of waves and sails.

Everyone seemed more quiet, though Alika was unsure if it was because their living space was no longer so cramped, or if it was because Yarik was now gone. Somehow, Alika missed him more than she’d thought she would. He’d always been a bright ray of cheer and optimism among the occasionally dismal group, and just having him around had made everyone certain that all would turn out okay.

As calm as their time with Mira’s family was, the summer eventually came to an end. Once the first tablets of sea ice came down from the north, Alika knew it was finally time to leave. Just as they had started out their journey heading north in autumn, they would end it the same way: except now, it would be getting colder the further north they went. Alika wanted to make sure that they reached their pack before the Long Night, when there would be months of cold and darkness on end.

Though the others had wanted to wait for a sign that Yarik and Avara had made it to Lina, Alika eventually managed to convince them of the urgency to leave. Perhaps one summer, Alika or Tarka would fly back to Coldwater Bay and learn their fates, but this was not that summer. With heavy hearts, they set out north once more.

Mira’s family took the four in their canoes as far as they could, up to the edge of the pack ice, where any further risked the humans getting trapped alongside them. They said their goodbyes there, and the four headed north with their meager belongings: the Wayfinder, Tarka’s instrument, a scribbled map of the Summerlands, and a satchel of fish jerky. From then on, they would have to cross the ice by their own four paws.

It would be a long, long time before any of them saw a human again.

The sea ice was a cracked, ever-moving landscape. Once they far enough into it, it seemed endless, tablets of ice stretching out in all directions. Each of their leaps from plate to plate was perilous, and Alika, Tarka, and Snow all took a number of plunges into frigid water before getting the hang of it — by the end of their first day, all were quite jealous of Gust’s ability to float and avoid getting soaked.

With the ice constantly flowing and all landmarks constantly moving, it was difficult to be certain that they were actually moving forward. Even if they were constantly walking north, the ocean current made sure that their path was far from direct, sometimes working with them, and sometimes working against them. At first, Alika used the Wayfinder to mark their path on the map, but as their path turned into loops and spirals, she gave up. All they could do was move north, and hope that on average, they were making some progress.

The most immediate peril became getting separated, as they quickly found out. Tarka had gone ahead of the others, and even though he’d just been out of view for a moment, that was long enough to lose him. Had Gust not been able to fly, they would have lost him forever — it turned out that the ice plate he’d been on had somehow ended up behind the others.

Alika and Gust became the hunters for the four. White and gray seals drifted along with the ice, pods of them just waiting to be taken. It took a few attempts for them to catch one, but they worked out a strategy in which Gust scared the seals into water, where Alika would be waiting. Gust was quite clearly disturbed the first time they’d caught one: apparently, he’d never hunted even once on Kuroth. As fish could neither feel nor speak, catching them on the Windrider had not quite been the same. Alika just told him what her mother had told her: don’t speak to prey.

The seals were very fatty. If the four wanted to survive the coming winter, it was them or the seals. Eventually, Gust got used to it.

It was less than a little month before they saw their first dragon.

In accordance with the ever-shifting ice, he seemed to come out of nowhere. A adult male with a blue fur coat, a great crown of horns on his head, and a scar running across his snout. One moment, he was a speck on the horizon, and the next, he was but a few leaps away.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

Alika froze once she saw him, unwilling to take another step. He seemed preoccupied — he hadn’t seen or smelled them yet, his snout buried in an ice hole. Perhaps, if they all stayed silent and still, the ice floe would carry him away.

“Hello!” Tarka called out, waving a wing in greeting.

The dragon’s ears perked upright, and he lifted his head. His body tightened into a fighting pose, huge fangs bared. The ice floe brought him closer, until he drifted alongside the four.

“What are you cubs doing out here?” he growled, flexing his razor-sharp claws, smoke drifting from his jaws. His voice was guttural and accusatory, though he didn’t seem threatened by the four. How could any of them threaten him, when he was twice Alika’s height and many times her weight — to say nothing of the other three? “You’re not part of our pack. What are you doing in our territory?”

The dragon suddenly leaped, landing on their ice plate. Tarka squealed as it lifted into the air, and he slid down toward the dragon. Alika grabbed his tail, holding him back as the plate rebalanced itself. Snow hid herself beneath Alika’s underbelly, while Gust lifted up into the air.

“You’re the first dragon we’ve seen!” Tarka exclaimed, undeterred. “Actually, you’re the first dragon I’ve met other than my mom and my sister! Well, except for Gust, but he’s weird-looking. Oh, and Tshav too.”

“Hey!” Gust exclaimed, snaking through the air.

“Snow was also a dragon when we first met her,” Tarka continued, “but she wasn’t a real dragon. So you’re the first!”

The dragon cocked his head. His gaze slowly passed over each of them, his stare intent, as if he were sizing them up.

“I asked what you were doing on our territory,” he snarled.

“We were just passing through on our way to our pack in the north,” Alika explained, her own claws stretched out. She pulled Tarka back, placing a wing over him.

The dragon growled, whipping his tail. It smashed into the water, sending their ice plate rocking. “According to pack law, you should be flying at cloud level, rather than treading right into our territory.”

“And we’re sorry for that,” Alika replied, meeting the dragon’s gaze and refusing to look away. “However, only one of us is old enough to fly.”

“Which is why cubs aren’t supposed to leave their packs,” the dragon muttered. He lifted his dark nose, giving the air a sniff. “I can smell seal on your breaths. Have you been hunting on our territory?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “If you were adults, I would send you back south with a few scars to cry about.”

“Well, we’re not adults,” Snow spoke up from underneath Alika.

The dragon’s gaze turned downward, and he dragged his tongue across his fangs. “Hmph. I’ve been hunting fish and seals here for hours with no success. Perhaps I’ll let you off nicely if you give over the prey you’ve been dragging with you, even if fox is tough and stringy.”

Snow bristled as the dragon took a step forward, raising her tails and hiding further beneath Alika.

“Don’t you touch her!” Alika roared, putting Snow behind her tail and rearing up on her hindlegs to meet the dragon’s height. She stretched out her wings, baring her fangs and letting smoke run from her jaws.

The older male snarled back, getting up on his own hindlegs, towering over Alika. His wings extended out, casting a shadow over the four.

“Do you think I’m afraid of a couple of cubs?” he growled, locking eyes with Alika.

Alika held his stare. “We’ve taken down dragons bigger than you.”

The two dragons were locked in a silent standstill, neither willing to act. Yarik was gone, and with him, some of their hope. But Alika knew then and there that if the male attacked, she we would do everything in her power to let the others escape, even if it killed her.

“Alika,” Tarka whispered, nudging her in the side. “The Wayfinder!”

Alika suddenly recalled what Yarik had said, and used a claw to lift the Wayfinder out from her black scruff, holding it up for the male to see.

“What is that supposed to be?” the dragon asked, his gaze narrowing. “Another empty threat?”

“It was given to me by the merchant Yarik,” Alika said. “I was told that the Summerlands packs owed him a favor.”

Cautiously, the dragon brought his snout down to Alika’s neck. His huge nostrils opened, almost sucking the Wayfinder into them. Alika froze as she felt his saber-fangs press up against her throat, threatening to pierce it. What if Yarik was wrong? What if this dragon didn’t know him?

After what felt like an eternity, the dragon moved back, and the Wayfinder fell to Alika’s chest. The male lowered his forepaws to the ground, relaxing his wings.

“When I was smaller than your noisy brother, the packs of the Summerlands were stricken with disease. I would vomit up any food that I was fed,” he explained. “Yarik the Kind came to our pack bringing potions that cured us, worth far more than anything we were able to give him in return. He saved my life.” He bowed his head. “I do not forget my debts. I will guide you north and feed you until you reach the end of our pack’s territory and are safe in our neighbors’ lands.”