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"We mean no harm!" Aidan called from the raft as they drifted towards the bow of branches.

Perched atop them, a patrol of Kiithran glared down at the human intruders. They huffed and scratched at the bark. Their heads lowered and their feathered manes bristled out and shook like cocks ready to fight.

"This is Kiithran territory, human!" called the largest one, his stone-studded headdress marking him as the patrol's leader. He stepped out from the foliage with his head bent low, showing off his long horns framed by the disk of black-and-gold feathers around his head, "State your business, then leave."

"Please," said Cassius, raising his hands, "our friend is sick and needs to be looked at."

"Then take them to a human healer. We do not tend to your kind."

Cassius passed a narrowed eye to Aidan, "He's serious."

"We were just on our way to Morai to see Dürgah when she fell ill," Aidan replied. "He should be expecting us."

"Dürgah?" The patrol members whispered amongst themselves at the mention of their chief's name.

"Who sent you?" asked the leader, pawing at the bark.

"A man named Valen."

"We do not know this Valen," The leader raised his long, feathered tail to signal an attack.

"Wait," said the kria beside him, lowering his tail with hers, "Dürgah did say he was expecting visitors. These could be them."

"How can you know for sure?" He leered down at her from the corner of his eye, refusing to drop his guard.

"Show us your hands!" she called down as they passed under the branches.

Aidan scrambled to lift up Syra's hand to show them the silver band about her finger, "We're with the Kesh Raza!"

"See?" The kria said with a smirk.

"Very well," The leader huffed a groan and turned to his patrol, "Tahneth, Drakar, you're with me."

He led his group over the river and down onto the bank.

"Come!" the kria called and pawed at the ground for them to paddle ashore, "we'll take you there."

The patrol helped them pull the raft from the water. Their thick, scaly fingers were surprisingly nimble and Aidan forced himself not to stare too long. He had read about and seen Kiithran from afar during his trips to the Dairos skybridges, but these winged elk were much larger up close. Even the female kria had dense muscle tucked away under her downy overcoat.

"I'm Razira," the kria said once they were on steady ground, "and that's my brother, Namir." She seemed friendly enough—young and eager, with her colorful chest feathers puffed up.

"It's a pleasure," Aidan said, dipping his head towards Namir. But Namir simply huffed and twitched one of his four ears.

"Dürgah's our father," Razira said, ignoring her brother's sour attitude, "so we'll be escorting you to him."

"Escorting?" Aidan paused, not liking the image that popped into his head.

"Of course," Razira ruffled the wings that laid snug against her back and Aidan paled. "How else did you expect to get to floating mountains?"

Razira insisted on carrying Syra as they followed Namir down a narrow trail, while Drakar and Tahneth guarded the others.

"I'll let you know up front," Namir said from the head of the pack, "I'm not too keen on bringing humans back to Morai, let alone being ridden. So, if you try anything, I will not hesitate to drop you. Understood?"

Aidan gave him a calm nod, but his knuckles were turning white under his cloak.

***

"Sorry for the scare earlier," Razira said as they trekked through forest, "Namir trains his anukaal to be fearless, but he can be blind sometimes."

"I heard that," Namir called from the front.

"Well, at least your hearing works."

Namir snorted, "Then you try leading next time."

"If you can convince Pacha to allow it, I'll certainly take the offer."

"Who's Pacha?" asked Aidan.

"Papa," she clarified, "he insists on patrols being led by rahgs, not kria. Well, the elders insist on it. He just goes along with it so to not cause an upset. Ironic, considering that the Dahmia were originally female."

Petra scoffed, "That's a stupid waste. If they can fight, let them fight."

"And it's not even like we train for hard battles—self-defense, maybe. But most of us are just scouts or guards. That's why, when the time comes for me to ascend, I will become the first kria Gahirem."

Razira's jade eyes shown bright and clear, and Petra stared in near-admiration.

"Good luck convincing the elders of that," said Tahneth. "They'll ground you just for mentioning it."

Razira kept her head up, but Petra could see her confidence waver.

"They're really that strict?" asked Cassius, also picking up on her budding anxiety.

"Yes, they are. They're very wise and loving—most of the time—but they also love their traditions and will gang up on anyone who questions them. Many Kiithran were left stranded on the ground for merely asking if they could start selling headdresses to other races."

"What's wrong with that?" Aidan asked. "It would give you more to trade."

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"It's just 'not what we do'," Razira mocked. "Plus, some see headdresses as sacred. To see them on the wrong person would be infuriating to them."

"And you're just going to let this continue?" Petra asked.

"As Gahirem, I could suggest the change. Even as Lahirem, if my mate agreed. But the council is made up mostly of elders, and they'd dismiss me as mad, or treasonous, if they didn't banish me all together."

"Sounds like they got their heads shoved too deep in their own dung pit."

Petra was rough and blunt, but it was exactly what Razira needed. She laughed so hard she snorted, catching her patrol off-guard.

"That sounds just about right, actually."

"Then it's about time someone pulled them out," Aidan said, giving her a warm grin. "Just make sure you have enough support before you challenge them. I've seen similar dealings go way wrong without it."

"Thank you," Razira said, giving them a tap with her tail before following the patrol into a break in the trees.

"Wait. Are we there already?" Cassius asked from the back.

"Almost," said Razira, trotting through the branches and into the light.

Breaking from the shade of the forest, they found themselves standing on a stone precipice that stretched out over hills that rolled away from the mountain range. To the southwest, massive shadows floated in mist above the horizon.

"That's Morai," Razira said with pride.

Stepping out onto the ledge, strong winds whipped their cloaks, hair, and feathers, and the Kiithran stretched and pumped their wings.

"Ready?" Namir asked Aidan when he was situated astride his back. He could feel the boy's hands shaking in his mane.

"No."

"Too bad," Namir sprung and sprinted across the ledge, spreading his wings.

Seeing the land fall away from him, Aidan forewent holding Namir by the mane and flung his arms around his sturdy neck. This earned him a deep chuckle from the stag who seemed too delighted in his panic. The ledge disappeared under Namir and wind struck them from below. Aidan felt Namir's muscles bunch and release as his wings pumped against the air, driving them upward. His eyes leaked from the wind, but he could see Cassius and Petra following close behind, with Razira pulling up the rear, Syra clutched tight in her scaly talons.

***

Aidan thanked the heavens that the weather was kind with little turbulence. After the first half hour of having his face shoved into Namir's mane, he began to calm down and enjoy the scenery, one glance at a time. His view from the castle tower was certainly beautiful, but to see the land spread away like a green sea was something he doubted any human had been privileged to witness.

Forests gave way to farmland that patched between spires of rock that studded the land like miniature mountains. Morai's largest island now loomed miles both below and overhead, where its mountains, rivers, and entire forests all hovered over the great lake below.

"Nearly there, now," Namir said through the wind.

But Aidan's relief and excitement for firm ground came too early. As they glided nearer to the rocky cliffs, updrafts surged around their perimeter, blasting them from below. Aidan screamed and clung on, almost choking Namir—a sight he knew Petra was recording in her memory for later.

"Easy, now. It's right in front of us," Namir said, holding his wings out steady and letting the draft carry them up to a landing platform.

"See? Wasn't that bad, now was it?" Razira said as they trotted to a landing.

His reply came out as incomprehensible garble through thin, blue lips. His hands still shook and Namir swore he had bruises on his sides from where Aidan's legs held their death grip. The twins burst out laughing. Being creatures of flight themselves, they had found the ride quite pleasant and enjoyable.

"I can't wait to tell Syra about this," Petra snickered, climbing down from Drakar.

"Speaking of your friend," Razira said, lying Syra on the ground, "didn't you say you were looking for a healer?"

"Yes, please," Cassius said, "Do you have one? She has this rash that we know nothing about, and she hasn't woken for days."

He showed her the red marks littered across Syra's skin. Razira looked to Namir who twitched an ear for her to go.

"This way, then."

With Syra laid atop her back, Razira led them through dense woodland paths until they reached a clearing pocked with squatting huts of leaves, logs, and stone. From a distance, they appeared primitive—albeit colorful. But as the party entered the sprawling village, the intricate weavings and carvings spoke of a culture not so different from the reptilian mountain-dwellers.

The huts were of one story, but wide—large enough to fit a large family comfortably. And each was decorated to the owners' liking. Some were painted, some grew flowerbeds on the roof, but most sported feathers and sparkling stones to some degree. It was the carvings that grabbed the twins' attention. Cut into the wooden framing were scenes of family members and their accomplishments, similar to the carvings that lined their lair walls.

"Those are nohaaki," Razira told them as she led them through the hut-lined streets, their occupants astir with confused looks and whispers.

"Nohaaki?" Petra repeated, surprised by the striking similarity to her own language.

"Yes, Memories of Record. You'll see them everywhere. At mine, even the walls are covered. There's only one place you won't see them."

"Oh? And where's that?" asked Aidan.

"Moremi's den."

Further down the hill and cuddled back into a stand of large-leafed trees, a single hut sat bare and smelling of a strong mix of herbs. It was on the larger side, with several windows spaced along its sides. Colored glass and stones hung outside from their eaves and distracted Petra from the old kria that answered Razira's knocks on the door.

"Well, this is a surprise," she said, her ears erect and eyes bright despite her age. "Here I was expecting human trinkets, and you bring me actual humans."

"Sorry for the late notice, Moremi" said Razira, "We just arrived and one of the visitors needs your attention."

"Oh, it's quite alright. Don't mind at all," the mare huffed Razira's meekness away. "I'd be more concerned about your father's reaction. Does he know they're here?"

"Not yet," Razira admitted. "Figured I'd go fetch him once they were settled."

"Go and hurry off, then. They'll be fine with me." Curiosity bubbled from her eyes as she looked the party over, "I'm interested to hear their stories of the Lower Lands, anyway."

Razira left them to be escorted into the hut, where Moremi instructed them to lay Syra on the woven blanket by the first window.

"You're lucky," she said, squatting by Syra's side and unclasping her cloak with agile claws, "my last patient left this morning, so you have the whole hut to yourself."

"Where's everyone else?" asked Petra, glancing about the open room filled with mats and hanging cloth dividers.

"Everyone else?"

"You're family? All the huts we passed seemed to be occupied, so I just assumed..."

"Oh, no, young one," she said with a faint grin curling up her long face, "it's just me, here. As healer, the Aerie is my family—I take no mate, lest I show favoritism."

"Sounds kind of lonely," said Cassius.

"Eh," Moremi grunted, "to be honest, I get enough earfuls just tending to the sick. I'd imagine living with them constantly would grow old quick. No, ol' Moremi here is quite content with the quiet—when I can get it, of course."

"Now, how long did you say this one's been sick?" Moremi ran her thick, scaled fingers down Syra's neck and arms, examining the scratch marks.

"About two days, or so," Aidan said, taking a seat on the dirt floor opposite Moremi.

"Hm," she ran a thumbpad across the more faded markings, "and these? They don't look two days old."

Aidan faltered as she pointed to the faint scarring on Syra's forearms, "Battle wounds. From overseas. She...she burnt herself out saving some of us."

Moremi turned suddenly grim, "Oh, I see. Well, violence can result in such things. Did she burn out recently, then?"

"No. She only said she felt tight and itchy, and then just passed out."

"Hm," Moremi narrowed her eyes, "tight and itchy, you say?" She unfastened Syra's vest and lifted her shirt for a better look of the long lines raking across her torso. "That would explain the scratching, but not the tightness or the sleeping."

She lowered her snout to just above Syra's chest and sniffed, trying to identify any oils left by irritating plants. But her ears shot back and was stunned for a moment.

"Everything alright?" Aidan asked.

"Curious..." said Moremi, causing Aidan to lean forward, attempting to see what she saw.

Aidan jumped when she suddenly lifted Syra's arm and shoved her snout into her armpit, taking in a long whiff.

"Um...what are you doing?" he asked with big eyes.

"You're not human after all, are you?" Morai asked. The stare from the corner of her eye sent chills up Aidan's spine.

"Will that be a problem?" asked Petra, refusing to be intimidated. They came a long way to find this healer, and she was certainly not going to be turned away at the door.

"That depends." Moremi cast a glance up at Cassius, "Has she mated yet?"

Cassius' face flushed as draconic garble fell out, and Petra burst out laughing.

Aidan's cheeks also rosied, but he maintained composure, "Yes. But, that's not where these scratches came from."

"These scratches?" Cassius leered down at him. "There are oth—"

"Then tell me," Moremi said, cutting them off and craning her neck towards the twins, "when was the last time she molted?"