With every beat of massive crimson wings, the walls of the Luffin Keep receded into the distance. Crates and bags hung from a web of rope secured to the red dragon's leather harness, but if the extra weight bothered him then it wasn't apparent. The fourteen silvery-white dragonettes crawling around his back certainly weren't a burden. They moved with a purpose, checking lines and adjusting cargo.

All except for one.

A single smaller dragonette sat to the rear, staring back the way they had come.

It was far from the first time he had seen his keep from above. Dragonettes were as much at home in the sky as they were on the ground, after all. Nor was even the first time he had seen it from dragonback, although he could count those times on one taloned hand.

Still, this time was different.

His green, slitted eyes went unfocused, turning the keep into little more than a light orange blob atop a scrub-covered hill.

Below, well-tended fields gave way to savannah, dotted by patches of trees and the occasional herd of indistinct animals grazing on the tough grass.

It wasn't a majestic view by any stretch of the imagination. There weren't any towering mountains or groves of enormous heaven oaks. Those were for other islands further north.

'I guess I'll be seeing those soon,' he mused. 'But they won't be home.'

Voices picked up from the rest of the crew, but he ignored them. And when something blue and white streaked over them, he never saw it.

That streak dove and twisted, changing direction and trading altitude for speed in one smooth maneuver. That put the dragonette flying just above and behind the much larger dragon. A few fast, powerful wing beats and she was directly above the oblivious passenger.

"Hey!" She shouted above the whistling airstream. "Hey Tintin! Move over!"

The small dragonette in the rear jerked and looked up to the flier, then twisted towards the dragon's crew. One - a female with golden hoops through her ears - jerked her snout up in approval. Permission obtained, he shifted over and motioned for the newcomer to land.

Her taloned feet dug into the Leather harness that criss-crossed the dragon's back as she alighted with barely a wobble. Then she gave a grin that showed a mouthful of pointy teeth. "You thought you were going to escape without saying goodbye, didn't you Tintin?"

She had to speak loudly to be heard over the sound of the wind and the dragon's wingbeats, but privacy was the least of her concerns. Quite the opposite, really, and her companion ground his pointed teeth together in embarrassment.

"I told you to stop calling me that. Is Aytin so hard for you to remember?"

"Sure... Tintin."

He hissed in annoyance. "Fine. Next time I'm back at the keep I'll make sure all the other huntresses know they can call you Linlin. How about that Linlin? It is your name, right?"

Her eyeridges narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"I hear greenhorns get teased even worse than trainees. Oh, maybe I can tell them the story about the time you-"

"Fine! You're Aytin. Happy?"

"Sure... Erdalin." At a raised fist, he held up both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, Lin."

"Good." She gave a firm nod. Then grabbed Aytin in a crushing embrace. "I'm going to miss you, bro." She said as she rubbed her snout against his.

"Me… too… sis…" He gasped out in between breaths.

Even nearly three years older, Aytin was half a head shorter and quite a bit lighter than his sister. Her rib-bruising hug only served to demonstrate that the weight difference was all muscle.

But he took the punishment without complaint. And when it finally ended, he showed half his teeth in a crooked smile.

"I'm sorry we couldn't wait for you. Reed," he jerked his snout towards the female in charge, "said we had to leave as soon as Faelon was loaded. And you were out on patrol, and no one knew when you would be back, so..." He trailed off and raised one wing in a shrug.

Instead of answering, Lin flicked his left horn, right where it twisted sideways at the end.

"Hey, stop that!" He waved ineffectually. She ignored the protests, and just reached around with her other hand while he was distracted and flicked him again.

"What's that for?"

"For not finding some way to slow them down. You're either dumber than I thought, or you don't really love me. Either way, I should just take your present and sell it to the next trader that comes through the keep."

"What? Oh, you little brat!"

"Not so little anymore," she said, her toothy grin on display once again.

"Still a brat."

She didn't say anything in reply, only stared at him.

"Look, you know how mom and dad paid a lot to hire Faelon and Reed and the crew."

"Not enough, if you ask me," one of the dragonettes called out, just loudly enough to be heard. Aytin's scathing look was met with laughter until Reed's glare sent them back to work.

"Anyway," Aytin continued a little more quietly, "they paid a lot so I could go help Uncle Cork in the capital. I didn't want to ruin it. I couldn't. Even for you."

"Fiiiine," Lin hissed. She pulled a cloth wrapped bundle out of a bag on her belt and offered it over. "For you."

Aytin took the gift and carefully unwrapped it, then gasped in surprise at what he found. "Where did you get this?"

"Made it! With a little help from Suuie in the forge, but the rest was me. And it's all from the island. Every bit, except for the tin in the bronze." When her brother stayed silent, her ears drooped slightly and she asked a bit hesitantly, "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful." He withdrew the bronze dagger from its sheath and held it up to catch the sun.

The blade was a monolithic design, the leather wrapped handle and razor sharp edge all hammered from the same piece of native metal. An oval of polished turquoise shone the same soft blue as a dragonette's wings from its mounting on the base. The handle fit the young dragonette's hand almost like it was made for it.

Which by all accounts, it was.

Aytin carefully slipped the knife back into its horn-lined leather sheath, then secured it to his own belt. For all of its beauty, the blade was obviously functional and it would be a crying shame not to use it. "I love it. Thank you, Lin."

"Yeah, well, remember us when you use it. Don't forget where you came from."

"Or where you ought to be getting back to," one of the crew said, pointing downwards.

Far below, the island ended in a sheer cliff. Mist and cloud obscured almost everything underneath in swirling gray.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Through it all, Aytin thought he could just barely glimpse the world-spanning ocean far above which the islands floated. That brief look into hell was enough to send a shiver running from the ends of his wings to the tip of his tail.

It wasn't the prospect of falling that woke a primal fear in him. With wings, heights would never hold any danger to him. But to see the wet hell, even from perfect safety, was enough to set his heart beating just a little faster.

"You might be right," Lin said, voice a little distant as she stared down as well. Then she rustled her wings and shook her head back and forth. "Take care, bro. Don't forget us when you're having fun drinking cider and eating honey bread in the capital."

"And don't forget me when they make you a gilded huntress and put you in charge of the whole damn keep." This time Aytin wrapped his sister up in a hug. "I love you, Lin."

"Love you, too, Tin." She gave his snout a nuzzle and then he reluctantly let her go. With a final wave and a sad smile, Lin flared her wings and let the wind pull her off the dragon and back in the direction of home.

Aytin watched for several minutes, until her speck disappeared into the distance.

A hand fell onto his shoulder. "Come on, kid, cheer up." Aytin looked up to see the same dragonette who had spoken before. An older crewmember who he had yet to meet. "It will all still be there when you get back."

"I guess. I've never been more than a few days flight away from the keep before." He turned around and had to crane his neck to look the other dragonette in the eye. She was on the tall side, even for a female.

She grinned in response. "Very few ever get the chance to leave where they grew up. We're the lucky ones. Now come on, there's work to do." She turned and started forward.

"But I'm a passenger," Aytin protested. He still followed.

"Being a passenger is boring. Wouldn't you rather be crew?"

He thought for a moment. "Does that mean I get paid a share?"

Every dragonette in earshot burst out laughing. Even Reed stopped what she was doing to call back, "Be careful Xantha, I think he's angling for your spot. How are you at navigation, kid?"

"He might be audacious enough, but you know perfectly well I'm irreplaceable," the dragonette next to Aytin - apparently named Xantha - said with a sniff and snout pointed haughtily in the air.

"Hey! I'm good at plenty of things," Aytin protested.

"Then help out, and I'll buy you an ale at our next stop. Or you can stare out into the ocean until you go mad. It's your choice."

He didn't have to think long. "What do you want me to do?"

"First of all, how are you with knots?"

"Uh, pretty good."

"Show me." She held out a rope.

As Aytin took it, he noticed a wide patch of scales on her left forearm were lighter than her right.

She caught his stare and grimaced. "Old burn."

Before he could think better of it, Aytin blurted out, "Does it hurt?"

Her demeanor shifted, the lighthearted comradery draining away. Aytin was beginning to shift uncomfortably when she finally replied, "Only the memories."

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at the rope in his hands.

"Don't mention it," she said. "Seriously, don't. Anyway," the older dragonette continued, forcing the darkness out of her voice, "knots. That trunk needs another line securing it. Let's see what you can do."

The trunk in question was painted deep blue and heavy, no doubt full of supplies or trade goods for the weeks-long journey.

Thankfully, Aytin hadn't been lying about knowing his knotwork. He resolved to show Xantha exactly what he could do.

After making a quick double twist, he threaded the line through a handle, and then back along the path of the twist. A hard tug assured him that the knot was snug. Then he repeated the process with the other end of the line, securing it to the netting that crisscrossed the dragon's back.

"You know the rewoven double-twist knot. Fancy," Xantha said, nodding in approval.

Before he could reply, she put one foot on the chest and pushed it over the side. The line went taunt and Aytin held his breath, but the knots held.

"Relax, I saw you tie them. You did fine. Now, I need you to get a couple more lines on that. It doesn't need to be quite this strong." She kicked the recently tied knot securing the line to the cargo web. "Only enough to keep it from bouncing around and bruising Faelon's tender hide. Then you can help me inventory some of this cargo."

Hours later the sun was high in the sky and Aytin was still busy hunting down odds and ends that the manifest insisted should be there. There didn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to where the various crates and bundles were tied up. A crate of metal ingots hung next to bundles of pelts and a set of forging tools was tied up to a cask filled with carefully packed medicines.

But from all of the hints the crew had given him, the young dragonette had a feeling that the traders knew exactly where everything was hidden. He had talked to the entire crew at one point or another, trying to hunt down this or that. He had a feeling that had been the whole point of Xantha's assignments. They weren't just random faces anymore.

And he wasn't just a passenger.

"Hey Tin, are you busy?"

"Uh, just finishing, actually." Aytin finished checking the line around a barrel of ale. It thrummed slightly as he plucked it. "Did you need something, Bush?"

"Yeah, it's actually kind of important." The crew member leaned close, almost conspiratorially. "You know that Faelon got hurt on our way into your keep?"

"What?"

"Relax. Dragons heal fast, and we wouldn't be flying if it wasn't safe. But Faelon, he's stubborn. He'll push himself too hard if we don't watch out for him. Reed would rather we land a little early if we need to instead of waiting an extra day if he sprains a wing."

Aytin nodded. "That makes sense, I guess. But what does that have to do with me?"

"If he's actually hurting, his wings will get off-beat. Just a little. It's hard to tell from watching, but one side will flap just a little faster than the other."

"What? That doesn't-"

"Trust me. Have you ever worked with a dragon before?"

"No..."

"All you need to do is watch Faelon's left wing and count the number of beats," Bush said, pointing. "I'll do the same for the right and we'll compare in a bit. Got it?"

Aytin nodded hesitantly.

"Good. Now, on the down beat... there!"

'One... two... three...'

It was monotonous work. After the first hundred he had to struggle to keep his eyes on the dark red wings as they almost seemed to blur.

'Three-hundred and twenty-'

"What are you doing, Tin?"

Xantha's sudden words startled the young dragonette. "Counting Faelon's wing beats," he replied, and blinked as his concentration waivered. "Oh, shit, did I miss one?"

"Why are you... oh" Her question trailed off into a snort of amusement as she noticed Bush watching from nearby. A handful of other crew members were casting looks their way, and fighting to keep their expressions straight and failing to do so.

It only took a moment before Aytin realized what had happened, and his ears pinned back in embarrassment.

"Oh, relax," Xantha said, giving him a pat on the back. "Bush is still upset that he spent a whole day looking for a jug of midnight oil. Aren't you?" She added the last loud enough that the young crew member could hear over the wind.

"You weren't even here for that!" Bush shouted as the rest of the crew burst out laughing.

"Still happened!"

"Alright, enough of that," Reed called out. "Xana, how about you and your new assistant want to break out a snack for the rest of us?"

"Sure thing, boss. Hey, Tin, go and grab the rations. I need to stow this first." She motioned to the small, leather case she was carrying. It was a little out of place on the back of a dragon, but traders accumulated some odd things in their travels.

"They were in the blue trunk, right? The first one?" Aytin confirmed.

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Okay, I'll get it."

The trunk was easy enough to find. It did feel even heavier than before when he dragged it up top. A morning moving around cargo had left his arms more than a little tired. But he managed it. The knot was a different story.

He could hear Xantha saying something about the weather to Reed, but ignored the conversation. The complex twists of rope took all of his concentration. He was still working on untangling them when Xantha wandered over a minute later.

"Having trouble?" she asked.

Aytin didn't notice the hint of amusement in her tone, clear even over the whistle of the wind. He was too busy trying to work the end of the knot free. The coils had bound together in twists too tight to even get a talon into.

"It's stuck!" he snarled in disgust.

"Yeah, that happens when you hang things off of rewoven double-twists. It's why dragon crews almost never use them," she said, just a little too casually.

The young dragonette looked up slowly from his attempts and stared at Xantha's carefully blank face. Then he looked at the rest of the cargo. Sure enough, the knots securing them were in a completely different style.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Aytin asked, sounding not a little betrayed.

"Oh, you told me you were pretty good with knots. I thought you just enjoyed a challenge."

He let loose a hiss of frustration. "I must have tied twenty of these today!"

"And retying them will give you plenty of practice with the hitch knot and dragon line. But first..."

She splashed the contents of a waterskin on the knot. Wind sent most of it spraying away, but enough stayed put to saturate the rope. She waited a few moments, and then dug a talon into the mess. It came apart without any trouble.

"Food."