Moon Rising

by Tui T. Sutherland

  “Tamarin, you’re all right,” Kinkajou said, biting back a sob. “You’d better be all right or I will tie you to a tree and cover you with hallucinogenic frogs. Tamarin, please wake up.”

  “We should get her some of those RainWing tranquilizing darts before she does wake up,” Clay said, touching Kinkajou’s wing with his own. “Those burns are going to hurt a lot.” He crouched to study the third dragonet, lying on the ground in front of Peril.

  For a moment, Moon thought whoever it was must have been burned beyond recognition, and then she realized his scales were black. It was Bigtail, the other NightWing. He was clearly dead.

  Clay turned to Carnelian for a moment, touching her neck, and then shook his head. Carnelian was dead, too.

  Tamarin was the only survivor, if she survived her burns.

  “The underground lake,” Pike said suddenly. “Let’s put her in the lake. It’s not far. Submerging her in water will help. I’ve seen — I saw this work — after the attack.” He cut himself off, darted forward, and tried to lift Tamarin, but he was thin, and she was a little bigger than he was. He staggered, and Clay stopped him.

  “I’ll carry her. Show me the way.”

  “I’ll come, too,” Onyx said, studying her clawmate with apparent concern.

  “Go to Sunny,” Clay said to Peril. “Tell her to bring tranq darts and meet us at the lake.” Peril nodded, glanced back at the smoking cave, and hurried away.

  Qibli helped lift Tamarin onto Clay’s back. Pike scurried away, running full tilt, with Clay and Onyx right behind him.

  Kinkajou took a step after them, then wavered, looking back at Moon and Carnelian. By the time her mind said, Go with Tamarin, Moon will be fine, they were gone, and she didn’t know where the lake was.

  “Moon, you’re bleeding,” Qibli said. Moon finally noticed the trail of blood down her left shoulder and the sharp pain at the back of her head.

  “I’m all right,” she said, touching her skull gingerly. She could hear a lot more dragons coming their way — Tsunami and Sunny among them.

  You have a lot of explaining to do, Darkstalker said quietly. Start thinking of a good lie now.

  “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Kinkajou said.

  “Wait,” Winter said, emerging from the cave. Behind him, the fire was hissing out. The wrecked cave was covered in ice crystals, a gleaming layer of silver over black, frost over soot. Scraps of burnt scrolls littered the ground, and the ashes of the maps on the walls were still drifting down.

  At least it wasn’t the library, Moon thought. How had everything burned so fast? Even with the scrolls and maps, there shouldn’t have been such a big fire, surely. And how did it start?

  It wasn’t a normal fire. She knew that. Something had exploded. But did that mean … that someone had set it on purpose?

  Winter suddenly clamped his claws around her uninjured forearm. Moon let out a yelp as the freezing shock of his scales met hers.

  “Hey!” Kinkajou protested.

  “Don’t —” Qibli started.

  But Winter didn’t stop. He dragged Moon down the tunnel, away from the smoke. She could hear Qibli and Kinkajou and another pair of claws scrambling to follow them.

  “What are you doing?” Moon asked him. His grip was like being trapped in ice; trying to pull away did no good. And where most dragons’ minds became clearer when she touched them, his became too bright and painfully dazzling, reflecting back at her like sun off a field of snow. All she could get were flashes of sharp anger, which she really could have figured out on her own from his expression.

  “Here,” Winter said, pushing her into a tall, narrow cave where the air was clear enough to breathe. They were out of sight of the fire damage, but close enough that Moon could still sense the dragons gathering there. Her claws scraped against squat stalagmites jutting from the floor. The sound of water dripping somewhere slowly, drop by drop, echoed against the looming walls and distant ceiling.

  Qibli, Kinkajou, and Turtle burst into the cavern behind them, bristling with outraged thoughts. Qibli had grabbed a torch along the way and shoved it into a crack in the wall, adding another circle of firelight to the space.

  “You can’t just push your friends around like that,” Kinkajou said, hurrying over to Moon. “Especially when she’s hurt. Moon, there’s something in this wound.” She reached out but didn’t touch it. Moon twisted her neck and saw that there was something sticking out of the cut in her shoulder, like a collection of tiny, sharp splinters.

  Qibli lifted his venomous tail and glared at Winter. But before he could say anything, Winter took a menacing step toward Moon and pointed one silver claw at her.

  “You knew,” he snarled. “That’s why you tried to stop us from going in. You knew about the explosion and the fire before it happened.” He took another step, until all she could see was the bright orange reflection of the torchlight in his eyes.

  “So,” he hissed. “Exactly how did you know?”

  Winter’s words had an instant effect on the other three dragonets.

  He’s right, Kinkajou realized. How — what —

  Turtle’s mind was as opaque as ever, but he shifted on his talons and gave Moon a curious frown.

  Worst of all was Qibli. How did she know? She couldn’t have done this — could she? She’s a dragon with secrets, and Thorn said not to trust the NightWings — but why would she? I know I haven’t figured her out yet, but I don’t see violence in her. And yet, how did she know? But if she set the fire, why would she try to stop us from going in? But surely she wouldn’t — she couldn’t have — I can’t even believe I’m thinking this —

  “You didn’t — sorry, but — you didn’t have anything to do with —” he started.

  “No!” Moon cried. “Of course not!” She brushed away tears, trying to keep her voice steady. Trying not to think about Carnelian. Or how everything was now falling apart. “I would never hurt anyone.”

  “I know,” Qibli said, but not convincingly. She was better at hunting than anyone expected. There is strength beneath those scales. In the right circumstances, wouldn’t any dragon be capable of hurting another? Even her? But why?

  “If you didn’t do it, then do you know who did?” Turtle asked. He hadn’t spoken since the blast; he hadn’t moved from his spot by the wall until he came chasing after them. He looked shaken, but not destroyed. Moon wished she knew what he was thinking. Did he suspect her, too?

  “Or maybe you saw something?” Kinkajou suggested hopefully. “Something that warned you?”

  That might work, Darkstalker said. At least two of them want to believe that; start with that lie and build from there.

  I don’t want to tell them any lies, Moon pointed out. Even ones they want to believe.

  She pressed her front claws together, feeling a wrenching fear all through her chest. Her mother was echoing through her head: Never never tell anyone about your curse. Never let anyone find out. It will be the end of everything.

  “There’s only one explanation,” Winter hissed through his teeth, looking down his snout at her. “You did this. You set that fire. I don’t know why yet, but I will find out.”

  The other explanation was there, hovering at the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it yet. He’d been so sure — so sure — that the NightWings were lying about their powers all along.

  “I swear I didn’t,” Moon said. She spread her wings helplessly. “Please believe me.”

  “Can’t you tell us how you knew?” Kinkajou pleaded.

  Moon couldn’t speak. She felt as if there were claws clamped around her throat, as though her worst fear was trying to choke her so she wouldn’t reveal her secrets.

  Winter stared at her for a long minute, and then he lashed his tail, spikes clattering against the stubby pillars dotting the floor. “I will give you one chance, NightWing. You have until midnight tomorrow to tell me the truth — or I’m going to tell everyone what you did.” He took a s
tep toward her and she flinched back. “I knew NightWings couldn’t be trusted, but I was starting to think maybe you were different. Clearly I was wrong.” He stalked out of the cave.

  Moon buried her face in her talons, shaking. Kinkajou reached for her hesitantly. The doubt in Kinkajou’s mind — of all dragons — made Moon want to disappear completely.

  I don’t understand, Qibli was thinking, and that was clearly an unfamiliar and uncomfortable experience for him. His brain kept circling all the possibilities … including the truth, but he kept shying away from it. Moon knew it wouldn’t be long before he came to it, though.

  But he wasn’t the first one there.

  “Three moons,” Turtle said. Glowing lines lit up along his wings and neck, making him shimmer eerily in the dark cave. He took a deep breath, staring at her with wide eyes. “It was a vision, wasn’t it? You can see the future.”

  Kinkajou gasped. “No way,” she whispered.

  Admit nothing, Darkstalker advised.

  Stay secret, stay hidden, stay safe, her mother’s mantra echoed in her head.

  There didn’t seem to be any chance of that now.

  Moon looked down at her talons and nodded.

  “What?” Kinkajou cried. “What else have you seen? Anything about me?”

  “When did you know?” Qibli asked, taking a step back, away from Moon. But all those powers are supposed to be gone! So who’s lying to us — the prophecy dragonets, the NightWings, or Moon? Or all of them? “About the explosion — how long did you know without telling anyone?”

  “I just saw it,” Moon said. “It was right before class — sometimes the visions come months before something happens, sometimes only a few minutes. I never know…. It’s not like it’s a helpful power.”

  “But it is,” Kinkajou said, bewildered. Monkeys and mangoes, I’d love to be able to see the future! “You saved us.”

  Maybe she could have saved the others, too, Qibli thought, if she’d told us it was a vision. If we’d known what was going to happen, we could have stopped them. If she’d told the truth — if we’d known about her power beforehand —

  She saw Carnelian in his head, tangled up in his guilt that he should have tried harder to stop her from going in.

  “Would you have believed me?” she asked him. “If I told you I’d had a vision?”

  “I would have,” Kinkajou said, wounded, and Moon realized with a wrench of guilt that that was true.

  “Who else knows you can do this?” Qibli asked. “Can all the NightWings see the future?”

  “No one knows,” she said, wincing as a flash of pain from her injury suddenly zigzagged from her head down to her spine. “And as far as I know, no one else in the tribe can do this.” Apart from my secret friend, the legendary monster Darkstalker, of course.

  “Is that it?” Turtle asked. “Or is there anything else we should know?” He inhaled sharply, looking suddenly more awake than he ever did. “Can you read our minds?”

  Kinkajou and Qibli stared at her, their eyes wide.

  This is the last moment they’ll like me.

  This is how I lose them.

  Moon felt as though she was standing at the edge of a precipice, with howling winds below her waiting to smash her into the mountains. All of her mother’s great fears, the whole parade of nightmares she’d been watching her entire life, went marching through her head: dragons shunning her, dragons screaming at her, dragons setting her on fire, dragons locking her up and forcing her to use her powers for them … but mostly dragons hating her, everybody hating her forever.

  Just lie, Darkstalker whispered. Hold on to your one advantage.

  Secret. Hidden. SAFE.

  But Moon could hear what her friends were thinking, too.

  Qibli. Won’t she just lie to us? How can I trust her? How will I ever know if she’s lying?

  And Kinkajou, the dragon who wanted to be her best friend: I believe in Moon. She’ll tell us the truth.

  How could she be the deceitful NightWing Winter thought she was, when she had the choice to be the dragon Kinkajou saw?

  “Yes,” Moon confessed. “I can read your minds. I’m sorry.” She turned to Kinkajou. “I’m really sorry. I can’t help it. It just happens; it’s always happening. I can’t turn it off. Please, please don’t tell anyone.”

  Is she hearing my thoughts right now? Qibli wondered. He clearly saw the answer on her face, because he took another step back. What has she heard? The pace of his thoughts, incredibly, sped up, as he seemed to flash through all the possible things she might have seen. All my plans to get other dragons to like me? My nightmares about my family? My thoughts about her? How many embarrassing — she must know — I can’t — has she been laughing at me this whole time?

  “No!” Moon cried. “I really like you.”

  He grabbed his head, as if he was trying to keep his thoughts inside, and then flared his wings. What if I accidentally think about one of Thorn’s secrets, or one of the hidden dens of the Outclaws? Secrets she didn’t understand started spilling through his head. Or what if she hears some of the terrible things I think about other dragons? Who would ever like me if they knew what I thought about everyone? “Talons and tails,” he mumbled. “This is not OK. I have to get out of here.” He turned and bolted through the cave entrance, disappearing beyond the torchlight.

  But I don’t understand, Moon thought, half to herself and half to Darkstalker. He never thought anything more terrible than any other dragon. He’s more interesting and kinder and more insightful on the inside than almost anyone else I’ve met.

  He doesn’t know that, Darkstalker pointed out. He’s never seen inside anyone else, the way you have. After a few years of reading minds, you’ll see — it’s often the most brilliant dragons who are the most insecure. And the ones who are most afraid of having their minds read — because they think they must have the worst, lowest thoughts of anyone — are nowhere near as bad as the ones who complacently don’t care because they assume everyone else is as terrible as they are. Mostly everyone is terrible, by the way.

  “I wish you’d told me,” Kinkajou said. Her head was spinning: I thought she was going to be my best friend, but all along she was hiding this huge secret from me. And now Carnelian is dead, and Tamarin is hurt, and someone tried to blow us up, and there are all these grumpy dragons here, and school is nothing like I expected. I wish it was yesterday. I wish none of this had happened. I wish someone who could SEE THE FUTURE had maybe STOPPED ALL OF THIS FROM HAPPENING.

  “I’m sorry,” Moon said again, hunching her shoulders miserably. “I was afraid. It’s not exactly the first thing I tell other dragons.”

  “Well, it should be!” Kinkajou said, fiercely enough to make Moon flinch. “If you’re going to be in our heads hearing everything, then you should at least warn your friends. And if you’re seeing the future, and it’s bad, then you really have to tell someone. I don’t understand you.”

  “I didn’t want you to hate me,” Moon said.

  “Well, did you want me to trust you?” Kinkajou demanded. “Because this is the opposite of how to do that.” Orange and red were starting to flicker through her scales. Why am I even bothering? She knows what I think. She can hear it all herself. “I have to go check on Tamarin. I need to think. The kind of thinking that’s just between me and me,” she added sternly.

  And then she was gone, too, leaving Moon with Turtle.

  That’s what happens, Darkstalker said with a sigh. But don’t worry. They’ll come crawling back when they need you.

  I don’t want them to crawl, Moon thought with a shudder. And now what do I do about Winter? If Qibli and Kinkajou reacted that badly — won’t he hate me even more than they do? But if I don’t tell him something by tomorrow, everyone will think I set that fire. That I killed Carnelian and Bigtail.

  She sank to the floor, wrapped her wings around herself, and started to cry.

  After a moment, she felt a wing gently brush her back.
>
  Even when he was touching her, she couldn’t sense anything but that quiet fuzz from Turtle. He looked down at her with his dark green eyes.

  “Come with me.”

  It occurred to Moon, somewhere deep inside the mountain, that perhaps following Turtle off to a dark secluded spot might not be the best idea.

  Between the vision she’d had of him and Anemone, and the fact that she had no idea what he was thinking, she suspected she probably ought to be more nervous.

  But his mind was so quiet and — well, cozy seemed like a strange way to describe someone’s brain, but it was the best word for his. Trying to listen to it was like sinking into soft moss, muffling all the voices of the other dragons in the school. Or like being underwater, she guessed.

  The voices got quieter anyway as they walked, putting layers of rock and space between her and the thinking going on up above. Neither of them spoke, although she could think of a million things she thought she should tell him. There were few torches down this far, but Moon’s eyes adjusted to the dark, and Turtle’s scales glowed just enough for them to see the floor beneath their talons.

  Here and there she saw slick, glowing trails along the rocks, and after a while she realized they were left by luminescent snails as long as her claws.

  Soon after that, she noticed a faint dripping sound up ahead, and then all at once, the passage opened up into a huge cavern studded with stalactites, shimmering with glowworms — and surrounding an enormous underground lake.

  “Oh,” Moon whispered. At first she thought there were glowworms in the water, too, and then she realized she was seeing the reflections of stars. Far above them was a hole in the roof, big enough for a dragon to fly through with her wings outstretched. Big enough for the moons to shine through, casting broken silvery-green light across the still water. Two of the moons were visible through the hole, half full and swathed with clouds in the growing twilight.

  Moon looked around for Pike and Tamarin, but although a faint burnt smell still hung in the air, there was no sign of the injured RainWing or the dragons taking care of her. They must have immersed her and then taken her to the healing cave.