A Dawn of Dragonfire - By Daniel Arenson Page 0,66

Mori clutched his sleeve. "Please, Bayrin, please don't make me fly. He'll see us. I know he will. Phoenix eyes are sharp, and if we fly, he'll see us, and he'll burn us." She trembled and tugged on his cloak, as if that could convince him. "Please, Bayrin, I don't want to fly. Not yet."

He sighed. Circles hung under his eyes. "All right, Mors. We'll walk for a while under the trees. But sooner or later we'll have to fly again. Walking all the way to the sea can take moons; flying would take days. And once we reach the sea, we'd have to fly, unless you know how to build a boat with your bare hands."

"We'll walk for today," she said and drew her sword, wondering if she'd ever dare swing it at an enemy. She lowered her head, remembering how even in the dungeon of Draco Vallum, she had only cowered, and dared not fight like Bayrin did. She took a shaky breath. "We'll fly tomorrow."

They walked through the forest in silence. The pines rose around them, frosted with snow, their branches snagging at their cloaks and smearing them with sap. Soon snow began to fall. The cold air drove into her bones. Mori pulled her cloak tight, but the wind kept creeping under her clothes to caress her skin. She missed home. She missed sitting by the fireplace with a good book, maybe one with maps, or one about adventure. She missed drinking mulled wine and talking to Lyana about what gowns the ladies of the court wore, or talking to Elethor about the stars, or even just cuddling with her pet mouse and whispering her secrets to him. Would that world ever return? So many had died. So much of the city had fallen.

Mori lowered her head. For the first time, she realized that she was an orphan now. True, she had not stopped thinking about her dead father, not for an instant. And even now, years after her mother's death, she still thought about the queen every day. But that word—orphan—only now filled her mind. To Mori, orphans had always been poor children with shabby clothes and hungry bellies, figures from books and stories. She had never thought she would one day tread in the wilderness, her own clothes torn, her own belly twisting with hunger, her own two parents gone.

But I have Elethor, she thought. He's still alive, and he'll protect me. And I have my friend Lyana. She shivered and wrapped her cloak as tight as she could. Unless they're dead too. Unless some creature in the Abyss killed them.

"Mori, you're shivering," Bayrin said. He looked at her, his black cloak now white with snow. Snow even coated his eyebrows. And yet he began to doff his cloak. "Here, wear this too."

She held up her hands. "No, Bay. You're cold too. Keep your cloak, I'm all right."

His words, if not his cloak, warmed her. She wasn't sure why, but since battling Acribus underground, Bayrin had seemed much nicer. He sighed and rolled his eyes less often. He made fewer quips. He even held her hand when they stepped over ice—the hand with six fingers, which he would mock so much back at home. Had something happened underground to change him? Maybe he was only scared too… scared that the other Vir Requis were all dead, that the city of Nova Vita had fallen, that they would die out here.

Mori did something she never thought she would dare, something that a moon ago would terrify her. She stood on her tiptoes, leaned forward, and kissed Bayrin's cheek. His red stubble tickled her lips.

"But thank you, Bay."

He raised his eyebrows and whistled. "Oh my." He made to remove his boots. "Here, take my boots too! And my pants and shirt. Would you like some nice warm socks?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Does that get me a kiss on the lips?"

Mori couldn't help but giggle. She shoved him back. "It'll get you frostbite, that's what."

As they kept walking, Mori hugged herself and wondered: What would it be like… to truly kiss Bayrin on the lips? Mori was eighteen already, but she had never kissed a boy. Her mother had been married at her age, and Lyana had kissed her first boy at age fourteen, but Mori had always feared it. Would it be painful and cold like… like when…?

She shook her head wildly, scattering snow. No. Don't think about that, Mori. Love isn't like that night,