The days grew shorter as the rings shifted higher in the sky. Though the scenery of each day seemed much the same to the two dragons, slowly, the mountains above began to shrink, and the pass began to flatten. No longer were they walking on snow or frost, but stiff brown ground that gradually transformed into soft green grasses. The soreness in Alika and Tarka’s paws faded, and their legs grew strong. Alika wondered if they had perhaps walked further than any dragon had ever walked before. What dragon would walk if they could instead fly?

Alika was quite certain she was a master at walking by now, and even Tarka was no longer complaining. Her skills in hunting had not quite reached that point, but she certainly had improved. As the mountains turned into hills, herds of prey became more plentiful. Though she was not quite confident enough to take on an adult moose or a ground sloth, Alika quickly realized that the advice Serka had given her about selecting the young, sick, or elderly was true. More than once she’d made the mistake of attacking healthy prey, and almost ended up gored as a result.

Though they had not come across more wolves on their journey, the two had passed through the territory of grizzlies and saber-tooth tigers. Most predators seemed content to allow the dragons on their way: in fact, they seemed almost relieved when Alika explained that they were traveling and had no interest in remaining on their territory for longer than strictly necessary. Only once had she had to use her flame, scorching the whiskers of an adolescent tiger barely older than a kitten who seemed to be looking for a fight. An older grizzly had allowed them passage in exchange for a meal and had given them a warning not to travel further west into the mountains, where the giant demon bears would be waking for the winter.

The most danger the two had come in had not been from predators at all — upon exiting the mountain range, they had stumbled across a herd of mammoths. Though Alika hadn’t had any intention of hunting, Tarka had alerted the mammoths to their presence, and they’d been chased back onto the slopes. Attempting to stay clear had taken several days off their journey, as the herd seemed to have no intention of letting dragons even pass through peacefully.

So far from home and in such an unfamiliar area, Alika could truly feel how distant the glaciers were behind them. Though memories of Serka and their den haunted her sleep and resurfaced during the long days of walking, she knew for sure it was a life that she could never return to. Though the rings guided her north, she felt lost and uncertain. Was this the life that she now led? Perhaps things would feel right again once they reached their pack, or Alika finally had a dragon other than Tarka to speak to. Her home and family felt like a fading dream, but sometimes, Alika could still smell her mother’s scent in the moment before she woke.

“Green!” Tarka screeched, flapping his stubby wings in excitement. “Alika, look! It’s so green!”

Thick pine trees rose like the edge of a cliff in front of them. Alika had seen the forest in the distance for a while, but only now that they were standing right up against it did she truly feel how alive it was. It wasn’t just the vivid colors of the trees, but the mossy forest floor. Stone or soil, everything seemed to be covered in a lively green befitting the Emerald Isle. The wind faded as they took their first step into the forest, and a humid earthy scent filled Alika’s nose.

“Greeeeeen!” Tarka repeated, prancing around a tree trunk. He dug his claws into moss, rubbing and ripping it away. He tossed a pawful of it onto Alika, dotting her light blue fur with green speckles. “I didn’t even know this much green existed in the whole wide world! I thought everything was white and brown but there’s so much green!”

“It’s weird,” Alika acknowledged, brushing some of the moss off as Tarka began to run further into the forest. “Tarka, wait up. The forest could be dangerous. There might be wolves.”

“We’d have heard howling like we did on the glacier if there were wolves.” Tarka twisted around a tree, whacking the bark with his tail. Folding in his wings and tucking in his head, he rolled on the soft ground onto his back. He began to writhe and twist, getting moss all over his white fur. “Green! Green! Greeeeeen!”

Alika let out a smoky sigh and continued into the forest. The gargling sound of running water touched her ears, and she turned toward it. Her eyes lifted to the sky: though the dense forest obscured it somewhat, she could tell it was midday. She could still make out the rings. That was good; even if they got lost, they’d still know which way to go. Still, they’d have to be careful not to get separated. Though she was pretty certain she could track Tarka if needed — his steps weren’t exactly light, and his scent had only become more obvious as he’d developed his smoke — she didn’t want to waste their precious autumn days running in circles trying to find each other.

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Fortunately, Tarka was just as thirsty and followed her lead. The forest cover broke open in a crack to make way for the creek, perhaps the least green thing she’d seen here so far. The water spilled over rocks, creating alternating segments of miniature waterfalls and ponds.

Alika lowered her snout toward where the water moved the fastest. It was cold as it ran against her snout, and she lapped it up eagerly. It soothed her dry and smoky throat, and she felt an odd moment of calm.

Suddenly, water splashed up, soaking her head and neck fur. Alika glared at Tarka as he jumped around upstream of her. He beamed wide, showing off his saber-fangs mischievously, and shook from side to side to spray Alika with more water.

Unwilling to just take this, Alika spat out the mouthful of water she was drinking into Tarka’s eyes. He yelped, stumbling and slipping on moss before rolling into the stream.

“Hey, it’s all smoky!” Tarka exclaimed. “That stings!”

“I’m not drinking any stinky water you’ve been bathing upstream of,” Alika chided.

Tarka got to his paws and jumped out from the creek, shaking himself off again. This time, Alika blocked the spray with a wing. It wasn’t ice water, but it certainly wasn’t the comforting heat of the water in the ruins.

“Do you think Mom was here?” Tarka asked. “She and Dad went through a forest on their way south, right?”

“Could be,” Alika replied. She stepped through the water as carefully as if she were walking on ice. The moss seemed just as slick. It was odd, knowing that they were retracing their parents' wingbeats.

“Mom made it sound so fun, like a huge adventure. But we’ve just been walking, walking, walking the entire time!” Tarka picked up a stone in his claws, tossing it into the creek. It landed with a loud kersplosh. “I bet it this would be so much better if could fly like they did. We’d be on the other side of Tasien in no time at all!”

“Well, you’ve got plenty of time to grow your wings big and strong. Better hurry up.” Alika stretched out her wings and gave them a flap, shaking water from the fur lining their membranes.

“I can’t,” Tarka complained. “We’ve been walking too much! All my growing has been in my legs.” He slammed his tail into the water. “When we meet our pack, we’ll have the strongest legs from all this walking! Huge legs and tiny stubby wings!”

Alika laughed, thumping the tip of her tail. She looked down at a still surface in the creek, glimpsing her distorted reflection. Tarka wasn’t wrong — her legs had gotten stronger from all the walking. The rounded, flabby legs of a cub were gone, replaced with the toned muscles of an adult dragon. Even though she’d fed herself well, the walking had taken a toll on her, and she was skinnier than she’d ever been in autumn before. She’d grown taller, and contrary to what Tarka had claimed about their wings, her wingspan was proportionally wider. When she saw her snout in the water, it looked almost more like Serka’s than her own.

Alika’s ears twitched at a small rustle in the bushes. Tarka went off after it, leaving her alone with her reflection.

She tilted her head, contemplating in silence. The resemblance to her mother was almost uncanny. If she squinted enough and made ripples in the water, it almost seemed like Serka was staring back at her.

Alika’s ears drooped, and she brought her snout closer to the surface. Memories of home, of the life they’d left behind, came back to her. Only within reflections of herself would she see her mother again.

Small drops of water formed at the corner of her eyes, and she used a paw to wipe them away. She couldn’t grieve. If she started, she didn’t know if she could stop again. She had to be strong for Tarka, or they wouldn’t get through this.

Alika raised her head. Tarka was gone. Again. She let out a long sigh, sniffing around for his scent trail or pawprints in the moss. “Tarka? Where’d you go?”

There were a few moments of quiet before she got a response.

“Alika! Over here, quick!”

Alika immediately burst into action and sprinted into the brush where she’d heard his voice coming from. Her heart raced. “I’m coming!”

What trouble had he gotten himself into this time?