AN: A heartfelt thank you to everyone who's been following the story up to this point! It might be a while before I can get back to my weekly updating schedule, especially with school coming up in only a few weeks, but I'll try my best to get back on track! As some of you probably know, I've updated Chapter 8 so that it now continues the actual story instead of serving only as an announcement. However, if you didn't see that and haven't read it yet, I advise you do so before continuing with Chapter 9.

Now, if you're all caught up, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!

Cornice rested his chin on the cave floor, half-seriously reconsidering his decision to follow Ozone's advice and rest. Sitting alone in a cave right on the border of the Sky and Sand Kingdoms made him feel like he was just asking to be discovered. Inter-tribal etiquette generally obligated the tribe to ask questions before immediately taking the trespasser as a prisoner, but Cornice didn't want to take that chance. He was far too close to the SkyWings' base to claim innocence—even though it was the truth.

His throat felt unpleasantly dry, and his gaze traveled unenthusiastically to the moist spots on the stone near the mouth of the cave. He'd lapped at the puddles which the rain had left there, but they tasted unpleasantly of minerals. Besides, he doubted he would ever get used to drinking liquid water instead of consuming snow to relieve his thirst. But I'll have to try. I'm not going back just for some snow.

I have to do something productive, he decided once he had quenched his thirst as best he could, both to take his mind off missing the Ice Kingdom and because as long as he could remember, he had always been doing something—training, studying, attending elite functions at the queen's palace, training, training, training. Cornice couldn't stand remaining still, doing nothing, and practically feeling his muscles atrophy.

Wincing, he hauled himself to his talons. He hadn't moved more than an inch for several days and his body hadn't expected him to start now. He ached all over.

That's normal, he told himself, clenching his jaws to keep from hissing. Nothing good ever comes without a little pain. It was a lesson he'd learned over the years as he struggled to climb the ranks, especially after his family had been shamed and his mother had pushed him relentlessly to reclaim their rightful place.

After the initial movement relieved the stiffness in muscles, motion came a little less painfully. Cornice grunted in satisfaction.

His mind still on his mother, he wondered what she was doing now. She'd always insisted on staying with Stigma, despite his disgraceful behavior, until Cornice was full grown, to help her son as much as she could. But that's the end of it, she'd said coldly to the dragon she had once been so proud to marry. After our son reaches the adult ranks, I have no reason to stay with you and carry the burden of your crime.

Cornice hoped she had decided to separate from his father once she had realized their son wasn't coming back, so that she could return to her rightful place in the Second Circle and the palace. But part of him rebelled at the idea. He couldn't stand thinking about how his father would probably be happier without Glissade.

I don't care what happens to him and his pack of so-called offspring, he tried to convince himself, the icicle spikes along his back rising in agitation. They're not worthy of being called my family. They're not even worthy of being called IceWings.

Technically, I'm not either, a small voice whispered at the back of his mind, and he shook his head violently to clear it. It was true, though. Any dragon who left his tribe and his family was the worst kind of traitor. Whatever. At least that means I don't have to think about them anymore. Ever again, if I don't want to.

For years, that had been all he'd really wanted. I only wish I hadn't needed to let my mother down to get that freedom.

Trying to hold on to the lightness that came from being free from his supposed family, Cornice walked the length of the cave with his head held high. His injured wing still gave painful protest when he tried to move it, but his legs eventually shed their stiffness and soreness altogether.

That's right, muscle cramps, he thought triumphantly, striding in a circle around the edges of the cave. It's time you learned that no one messes with an IceWing! Then he snorted, shaking his head in mingled amusement and exasperation. Now I'm really losing it. Spending so much time alone must be getting to my head. He had to admit that even a somewhat daft SkyWing was better than no company at all.

He hadn't seen Ozone in several days, which he wouldn't have minded too much apart from the fact that the other dragonet was supposed to be teaching him stretches that, as he failed to open his wing more than a few inches, he decided that he probably did need. He glanced hopefully at the mouth of the cave and then sighed. Can't he just magically appear when I realize that I really do need his help? It's definitely a more monumental realization than the universe is currently making it out to be... and more painful to my ego than I'd like to admit.

As he reached the depths of the cave and turned to resume pacing to the front, Cornice noticed that the back wall was broken up by a crevice that he hadn't noticed before. The angle of the opening had made it look like an uninteresting crack, while in reality it was probably big enough for a dragon to fit inside.

He peered curiously into it, and saw nothing but darkness. A dragon from tribe might be able to pick out the subtle details of the opening, but to his eyes, everything looked pitch-black. IceWings were used to dealing with the brilliance of direct sunlight on ice—their eyes were made for resisting brightness, not unraveling darkness. Cornice wished he still had Ozone's fire to light his way, but it had long since petered out, and with all the sunlight streaming into his cave, he hadn't thought he would need it again.

But I'm an IceWing, he told himself firmly, not some inferior red-bleeder. I don't fear anything, especially not the dark.

Still, he couldn't help hesitating. But am I really still an IceWing? Do the shape of my claws and the color of my scales make me forever part of the tribe, or does my disloyalty and lack of respect for my family reshape me into something else?

His more reasonable side also rushed in to fuel his hesitation. Besides, what if there are sharp rocks sticking out of the wall and they only make my injury worse? Or there's a sudden steep drop and I can't catch myself because my wing is hurt?

Then figure out how you can avoid falling into those traps, he told himself. He'd done something like this before, as a test—he, along with his 'siblings', had been sent into an underground maze and challenged to find their way to the other side. Cornice had immediately struck out on his own, not wanting to be anywhere near the others, and even though it had taken him much, much longer to find his way out, he had eventually made it through with only a few scrapes and bruises.

Call out and listen for an echo if you think there might be something blocking your way, he reminded himself. Feel the ground a few feet ahead of you so you don't fall. Walk slowly. And use your mane to measure the width of a hole you want to go through so your wings don't get stuck. He'd learned all these lessons the hard way.

Now go, he commanded, in a tone so firm that he could almost imagine it was his mother's voice as she sent them in. He hadn't shuddered then, and he didn't now.

Slowly, he shuffled through the cave, stumbling here and there on sharp rocks. The unevenness of the ground was a striking difference from the frost-packed dirt of the underground tunnels in the Ice Kingdom, but he could adapt. If he wanted to survive away from his tribe, he had to be able to adapt to anything.

So this is another test, he told himself. Don't fail it.

"Hello?" he called experimentally, and counted the number of seconds before the words came reverberating faintly back to him. It seemed it was safe to continue on for a while longer, and so he did. But he didn't forget to tentatively pat the ground ahead of him before actually stepping forward.

After what seemed like hours, something changed in the soft blackness ahead of him. Cornice paused and squinted, wondering if he'd imagined the subtle shift.

No, there really was a speck of light in the distance—so tiny that his eyes couldn't really focus on it, but definitely there nevertheless. With newfound confidence, Cornice continued to pick his way along the rocky tunnel towards the light.

When he made it, what he found was not what he'd been expecting to see.

It was a cavern, the walls striped with more colors than he'd ever seen before. Dark red, green, blue, yellow—all flecked with something which sparkled as it caught the light. Leaning closer, he was stunned to find that it looked like little bits of metal and crystal within the stone. I thought all rock was gray, not colorful and shining like it is here. The various banded hues almost hurt his eyes, which were more accustomed to the unbroken white and blue of the snow and sky.

His eyes traveled up the sides of the cave to the top, where a crevice much like the one he'd entered the tunnel through let in curtains of light. This was unusual, too—the light entered in distinct rays rather than radiating equally on everything around him. The odd manner of lighting made it hard to see the far walls of the cave, but Cornice thought he could make out rock all around. It seemed that the only exit was the one he'd just come in through.

Cornice's heart sank. The rocks in this cavern were certainly different, but it still wasn't really anything special. The area was still as cramped as the cave network where he'd been living with his so-called family since his father's scandal. Cornice had been hoping to find fresh air when he'd seen the light in the distance.

I guess I'll head back, he decided, turning away from the colorful cave. While his cave was boring, at least it wasn't as dark and moldy as this one.

He'd only made it about halfway back when he heard Ozone's voice calling his name. The sound was oddly loud in the confining tunnel, as if echoing off the walls, and Cornice instinctively angled his ears away from it.

"I'm back here," he called back, once he realized what he'd heard. "Hold on!"

Knowing now that there were virtually no obstacles in the dark tunnel, he hurried back to his cave without bothering to feel his way along the path. He emerged into the more open air a few moments later, gratefully breathing in its freshness.

"Where have you been?" Ozone asked, studying the dust clinging to Cornice's icicle-like mane with curious orange eyes.

"Exploring," the IceWing said, shaking it off and trying not to sneeze. "Since you kept me waiting for so long, I decided I had to do something. Couldn't you have come here an hour ago so I wouldn't have had to go into that confining crevice?"

"I didn't even notice there was an opening there until your voice came out of it," the red dragonet responded. "I thought you'd flown off somewhere."

"Not a chance," Cornice replied, making a face. "You told me I'd end up crashing into a mountain again if I tried to fly anywhere so soon, remember?"

"I wasn't sure you'd actually listen," Ozone admitted, tilting his head to one side as if reevaluating his opinion of the ice dragon. "I mean, I know you said you would, but your tone kind of made me think otherwise."

"What's wrong with my tone?" Cornice asked, a little defensively.

"Nothing," Ozone said, ducking his head. It was only then that Cornice noticed the scratch across his snout. The red of the wound was similar to the SkyWing's scarlet scales, but it stood out against the golden starburst marking on his snout and forehead. "I just wasn't sure if you were joking or not."

"IceWings don't joke a lot," Cornice said, not sure whether it was appropriate for him to be amused by the misunderstanding. "Anyway—what happened to your nose?"

Ozone touched the injury as if checking whether it was still there. "It's kind of a long story."

Cornice shrugged. "Honestly, after being alone for so long, I wouldn't object to hearing it." He wasn't sure if Ozone would want to tell him what had happened—he wouldn't want to discuss it if their roles had been reversed—but he was mildly desperate to think about something besides himself and how much he missed the Ice Kingdom for at least a little while. It was starting to become kind of pathetic.

Ozone gazed at him thoughtfully for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not Cornice genuinely wanted to hear about it. Apparently, he found something sincere in the white dragon's face, because he nodded decisively.

"One of the other soldiers-in-training, Gale, hates me," the SkyWing began. "She always has, ever since her lifelong rival, Sard, decided that she wanted to be my friend. I've tried to stay out of Gale's way whenever possible, but that's not enough. She hates when our commander, Claret, pays me any attention. So Gale has always tended to pick on me as much as she can without resorting to physical violence." He paused, sounding like he was trying to determine whether to continue speaking or fall silent.

"What changed?" Cornice asked, deciding not to comment on how dramatic all these SkyWings seemed to be. IceWings were always focused on the top. They didn't get involved in anything as trivial as rivalries, because obsessing over one dragon meant ignoring all the other potential threats.

Ozone hesitated before answering. "The other day, we visited a new SandWing base along their side of the border between our kingdoms. I was spending some time with a trio of SandWings... and we started talking about who I considered my friends and who were my rivals. I tried not to speak too badly about Gale, but that didn't end up counting for anything. She saw them look over at her when I mentioned her... and how could she possibly know that I hadn't insulted her?" He shrugged helplessly, looking as if he wanted to say more but then seeming to think better of it.

So there's a SandWing base somewhere near here, too, Cornice thought. That means I'm twice as likely to get in some serious trouble if I'm discovered. I hope Ozone knows that—and I hope he knows how to be discreet about coming here.

"Why are you sticking up for someone who hates you?" he asked, zeroing in on the other piece of important information he'd picked up.

Ozone looked startled. "What do you mean?"

"You're making this out to be your own fault," Cornice pointed out sharply. "That Gale scratched you, I mean." And there's something you're shying away from telling me—like you're trying to protect someone. But who—Gale? And if it's her, why?

"But it was," the SkyWing said uncomfortably. "I provoked her."

"If the other dragonet—Sard?—decided to be friends with you, it's her fault that Gale doesn't like you," Cornice corrected him. He could already tell that Ozone probably wasn't an active participant in the hostility—the dragon barely spoke five words at a time unless he was explaining something. "And since Gale bullies you, it's hardly fair to blame yourself for the incident—except for not standing up to her when she went after you. I don't know why you'd let her push you around. Just push back."

He tilted his head to one side, studying Ozone's startled expression. "As for the bit with the SandWings, I think you'd be perfectly justified telling them whatever you wanted about her... even though I can't imagine why you would give them any more details about your tribe than strictly necessary."

"But—" Ozone protested, and then apparently decided not to argue.

Cornice narrowed his eyes. "If that's not the case, say so."

The SkyWing lowered his head and said nothing.

Even knowing that Ozone lacked confidence, Cornice was startled by how easily he'd given up, when he obviously didn't agree with the IceWing's reasoning. Cornice never surrendered that quickly... except maybe against his father. No wonder this Gale character seems to walk all over him.

Should I say something? Cornice wondered. I might be able to stamp out his insecurities the way my mother would mine. He could certainly use the help.

But he doubted Ozone would see the IceWing harshness in the same light he did, and stressing the SkyWing out further over the situation wouldn't be a very good way to repay him for his help. Ozone had treated his injuries and brought him food and offered to nurse him completely back to health—all without asking for anything in return.

"So, are you going to teach me stretches or not?" he asked instead. If Ozone was soft-hearted enough to help without demanding payment, that was his problem, not Cornice's. That didn't mean the IceWing was obligated to feel any gratitude towards a dragon of a lesser tribe—or to try to pay him back.

But as Ozone obligingly demonstrated the stretches, explaining which muscles they would strengthen and how they worked together to enable flight, Cornice saw a sincerity in his orange eyes that he'd never seen in any IceWing's. And even though he firmly believed that he didn't need to repay Ozone, that unconditional openness made him feel like he was starting to want to.

The only question was... how?