“Our pack?” Omerka asked, swishing her tail in confusion. “I’m sorry, but you must be confused. I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

Alika wasn’t showing it as much as Tarka, but she was practically dancing in excitement.

“Do you know a dragon named Serka?” Alika asked.

The eyes of the two dragons opened wide, and they exchanged a glance with each other.

“You know of her?” Omerka asked. “She’s my niece, but it’s been quite a few years since we’ve heard from her.”

“My older sister!” Urka added, swishing his tail and nodding. “She left the pack with her mate to look for the Emerald Isle!”

“Left is one way to put it,” Omerka muttered.

“Wait,” Urka said, staring at Alika. “The shape of your snout, the color of your fur, the angle of your wings… it can’t be. But what else could it be? You must be—”

“Her cubs!” Tarka squealed, leaping up from the snow and grabbing onto Urka’s forepaw. Urka yelped as Tarka almost dragged him in, struggling to regain his balance on the snow. “I’m Tarka! And this is my sister, Alika!”

“And I’m his other sister.” A lithe, white-furred dragon with golden eyes stuck her head out of the snow. “Snowka!”

“Snowka?” Alika looked back at the disguised Snow, confused. Why was she lying? She’d mess this up for them! “That’s not—”

“Yes, Snowka!” Tarka interrupted. “She’s my other sister! Snowka!”

“And I’m your uncle!” Urka grinned, pulling his foreleg up, Tarka clinging onto it. “Wow! Uncle Urka! I’m an uncle!”

“You were already an uncle,” Omerka sighed, shaking her head.

“But now I get to be an uncle again!” Urka replied. “And to three delightful dragons. Four delightful dragons?”

“Hmph.” Omerka brushed more snow off Gust, and lowered a paw down to help him out. Instead of taking it, Gust rose into the air, levitating out of the crack. “Yes. Who is this other… dragon?”

“I am Turquoise Gust, Fourth Soprano of the Nine Isle Commonwealth,” Gust introduced himself, bowing his head to Omerka.

“I see,” Omerka squinted, twitching her ears.

“Gust is our brother too!” Tarka added. “But he was adopted.”

“I was?” Gust asked.

“Yes, you were!” Tarka replied. “We just adopted you!”

“I-I’m not sure that’s how that works!” Gust chuckled nervously.

Alika sighed. “He’s a close friend of ours. Not from around here.”

Omerka lowered a paw to help ‘Snowka’ out of the crevasse. Snow didn’t take it, instead choosing to grab onto Gust as he rose. Gust let out a bewildered yelp, but helped his not-so-adopted sister out from the crack and onto the snow surface.

“None of you are from around here, it seems,” Omerka replied. “You must have journeyed far to find this place.”

“You wouldn’t believe how far,” Alika laughed. “I’m just glad that we finally made it.” It was hard to believe. Their journey was finally over, they’d finally found their pack.

“Even now, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to walk Coldfire Pass with a flightless cub. You certainly have some of your mother in you.” Omerka looked to the mist. “Tshishi rarely picks a fight with adults, but she certainly haunts many of our cubs’ nightmares.”

“Tshishi?” Tarka asked, still clinging to Urka’s foreleg.

“The giant eagle that attacked you,” Urka explained, lowering his snout down to Tarka and showing off his saber-fangs. “She has a taste for dragon flesh.”

Omerka flicked her snout and pointed a wing into the mountains. “She makes her lair in an ice mountain over that way, just so she can harass anyone passing through here. A nuisance, but she rarely comes further than the mountains, so none of the packs have tried to deal with her.”

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“She has talons that can rip open your bellies, and a beak that can break bones,” Urka continued, grinning.

Tarka shivered, letting go of Urka.

“That’s enough speaking of Tshishi.” Omerka waved her wing. “Is it fair to assume that the three — er, four of you have come all this way to find our pack?”

“That’s correct.” Alika swished her tail.

“You got lucky. We’re not far,” Omerka replied. “Under a day’s walk from here. Had you come a few days later, we would have already moved on. I can lead you there, although…” she stared at Gust again, “…your friend might be difficult to explain.”

“He’s a valuable member of the team,” Snow spoke up, flicking her illusory tail. “He’s a healer. We’re not going anywhere without him.”

Alika’s tail twitched. It wasn’t like she disagreed with Snow, but Alika didn’t like how she was speaking for the rest of them. This was her and Tarka’s family, not Snow’s — no matter how Snow decided to look.

“I’m sure he is,” Omerka said. “However, I am not the one you’ll need to convince.” Omerka raised a wing, gesturing the others forth. “Come on. Let us get out of these dismal mists. I’m sure Tshishi hasn’t gone far.”

The four followed Omerka and Urka through the pine forest. The slopes besides them shrunk to foothills, the mist of the Coldfire Peaks thinning as the first rays of sunshine broke through from the southeast. Finally, after being trapped so long within it, the mists cleared. Alika had finally reached the shores of the Land of Eternal Ice.

A rocky, barren surface stretched out below them, covered in layers and layers of snow. It spanned from the mountains behind them to the shoreline near the horizon. There, thick ice clung to the coast, an expanse that stretched across the edge of the sea. Past it, ice floes ground against each other in a slow, tumultuous dance, splashing and fighting in the momentarily freed water, much like the ever-moving plates of the Summerlands. And past that… just ice, an ocean covered in solid ice, an eternal white that touched the horizon, clean of mountains and forests to block their view.

Though Tasien might have been round, this was the end of the world. Beyond the Land of Eternal Ice, there was nothing.

“Wow,” Tarka whispered.

Cold winds blasted across the snow, with nothing to stop them. Alika shielded herself with a wing.

“Home sweet home!” Urka announced. “You think that’s a lot of ice? Just wait until we start heading east! You can never get too much of it!”

The group descended down into the tundra, turning toward the east before they reached the coast. Gust floated as the other stomped through powdery, fresh snow.

As they traversed the landscape, Omerka lowered her head toward Alika, evidently wanting to talk. Alika looked up at her great-aunt, glad to do so. Alika had so much to ask her about, about their pack, their land, their family… everything!

“I must ask,” Omerka began, “if you are traveling alone, then your mother…?”

“Serka has left Tasien behind,” Alika confirmed, glancing to the visible Twin.

“May I ask how it happened?”

“She died bravely, defending the two of us from a pack of wolves,” Alika explained. “We set out to find you afterwards.”

“I’m glad her death was honorable,” Omerka replied. She paused. “There’s something about your mother that you need to know—”

“Did she ever find it?” Urka interrupted, shoving his head between Omerka and Alika.

“Find what?” Alika asked, taken aback.

“The Emerald Isle, of course!” Urka replied.

Omerka glared at him, baring her fangs.

“What?” Urka said. “I just want to know.”

Alika let out a puff of warm breath, a white cloud coming up from her jaws. “No. She never did.”

Alika knew that was only half the truth, and as such, was also half a lie. But how could she tell them that Serka had found the path to it? How could Tarka understand why Serka had chosen not to take them north? If he knew that they could search for the Emerald Isle, how could he want to stay with their pack instead?

It was evening when they reached the pack, though the days were now short. Their pack seemed to be currently living against the shoreline, denning in a snowdrift on the coast. The scent of dragons, their dragons, filled the air — though the pack was migratory, their temporary territory had still been marked.

When the four newcomers arrived, every dragon in the pack seemed out to see them. In total, Alika counted seven, not including Urka and Omerka, who they’d already met. Four cubs ranging in ages from younger than Tarka to older than Alika, two adults of Urka’s age, and one elder dragon, larger than any they’d seen before, towering over the cubs and taller than even Omerka.

The elder’s fur was a faded blue, covered in old scars and missing in patches. One of her saber-fangs had been broken off, but her claws were sharp and her tail was strong. Alika knew for certain who this was: the matriarch, the leader of the pack. Alika’s grandmother: the great Kurka.

When the pack got up, they surrounded Kurka, though Alika was unsure if it was to protect their leader, or if they were looking for protection beneath her wings. Their eyes glared at the newcomers in fury, their fangs bared, claws out. Alika saw one of the older cubs puff smoke from his jaws. Clearly, they were expecting a fight. Their welcome back seemed less than welcome.

“I’ll go ahead and discuss with Kurka,” Omerka said, though she was already too late.

Tarka was running ahead with no regard for the danger, his wings outstretched in preparation for a hug.

“We found you!” Tarka squealed in joy. “We found you! We’re home!”

Before Tarka could reach Kurka, the two adults around her stepped forward. They lowered their heads, snarling and growling at Tarka, their razor-sharp claws stretched out, their saber-fangs ready to pierce.

Tarka yelped and turned, trying to stop himself from running into the deadly array of claws and teeth. He slipped, falling onto his back and skidding across the snow.

A huge paw on his underbelly stopped him, shoving him into the snow. Tarka’s breath was forced from his lungs as claws wrapped around his wings and ribcage.

Alika’s fangs instinctively bared, her talons out. Smoke poured from her nostrils, and her heart beat with fury. Before she could pounce, Omerka got between Alika and her grandmother.