It was a hot day in the Diamond-Spray Delta. Then again, it was always hot here. This day wasn't particularly hot, though Slate guessed it was a little warmer than average. Still, it wasn't that bad — well, it was bad, just not that bad. It wasn't humid, like it normally was in the Mud Kingdom, so the heat didn't cling to Slate's scales like it normally did.
Slate trailed behind his mother, Fawn. It was a little difficult to see the resemblance, but it was there. Slate's scales had the same yellowish quality behind him that Fawn did, although it was much more muted. His snout squished slightly at the end like Fawn's, although he didn't have the small white horn at the tip of it. Most prominent, neither of their horns were a shade of fall brown like most MudWings, they glistened a prominent ivory against the earthy backdrop of the delta. Still, the ways Slate looked different than Fawn were far more noticeable. Slate lacked the three inches of a membranous fin that Fawn had between her spines, the large scar across her left wing membrane, and the young MudWing had no trace of the shriveled bulb resting at the tip of Fawn's tail.
Fawn walked softly on the dry ground, cracks in the dirt beneath her paws. Slate dug his talons into one, pulling up a small chunk of dry soil. The air was parched, and a few of the plants to the side of the trail had started to wilt. It had been like this for the last few days, and no one was quite sure why. They'd had dry spells before, but none so sudden.
Slate lifted his snout up, and noticed that Fawn had gotten far ahead. He quickly ran ahead, and caught up with her. Not too far ahead, there were three MudWings walking the opposite direction on the trail. Slate frowned. Linden and two of her sibs. Bad-tempered. Fawn kept her head down on the trail, trying to avoid making eye contact with the three. Slate did the same. Hopefully, they wouldn't be bothered.
Linden walked past the two, turning her head as she walked. "Looks like the mutt passing by with her dragonet," she whispered to her sibs. Linden was slightly above average size for a MudWing, and had returned from the war three years ago, proud of her fighting. Since then, she'd been stuck in the Delta like the rest of them. Her rage had gotten more and more pent up over time, and she started to take it out on other dragons.
Fawn just kept walking, not noticing the remark. Slate gave Linden a side-eye and he frowned, just slightly, but Linden didn't seem to notice.
Linden snorted, unhappy with the lack of reaction. "Hey mutt, how you enjoying the weather? Just like home to you while the rest of us suffer?" Linden took a lunge forward as Fawn passed her, causing Slate to scramble to the side suddenly. Fawn didn't move, but Slate saw an instinctive flick of her tail to her right, putting it between herself and Linden. Linden noticed too, and jumped back in alarm, her muscles tensing up in fear. Even if Fawn's barb couldn't inject poison, Linden had seen enough injuries in the war to be involuntarily on guard around it.
Linden gave Fawn a glare, as Fawn just continued to walk forward. Slate climbed back on the trail and followed her. Linden smirked at Slate walked past. "Where your sibs, bigwings?"
Slate didn't reply, holding back a low growl. There was a reason he lived with his mother instead of his non-existent siblings, and Linden knew it.
Linden gave the two a look before turning away with a scoff, her two sibs following closely behind her as they walked away. Slate gave a sigh of relief, as the two continued down the path, deeper into the Diamond Spray Delta. They could hear more dragons ahead. Hopefully, these ones would ignore Fawn and Slate, at least until they got to the Fawn's sibs' mudhut. Slate hated having to meet with Fawn's sibs. Well, half-sibs. They weren't as bad as Linden, but the three remaining of them were nasty and rude. Yet Fawn still felt obligated to them and needed her pension, so she visited once per cycle of the largest moon, dragging Slate along with her, of course. To be fair, Lichen was a decent cook, so there was at least that.
"Slate," Fawn suddenly said, a hint of worry in her voice. She suddenly stopped walking, and Slate almost ran into the shriveled barb on the end of his mother's tail. He looked around her to see what was going on, to see a big ditch in the path ahead of them. A few MudWings were within it and on its sides, small groups of sibs examining it.
Slate and Fawn walked over to the edge of the ditch. It extended a short distance ahead of them before the trail continued, but as Slate looked to the left and right, the ditch extended further than he could see. Slate gulped.
A few MudWings at the bottom of the gully picked at the bones of a cow that were buried beneath. "So this is where she went," one of the MudWings muttered to his sib. "I told you I didn't eat her. She must've just stumbled in."
"Is this . . .?" Slate started to ask his mother. She nodded in mutual understanding. They'd been down this path before. Around here, they had to cross one of the branches of the Diamond Spray River to get into the heart of the Delta. Usually, they just swam through the murky river branch, or flew over if they had stuff they didn't want to get wet (although it was awfully difficult to keep stuff dry in the Mud Kingdom). A small trickle of a stream ran through the bottom of the gully, surrounded by cracking dirt as dry as the cattle's bones. The river branch had dried up almost completely.
"Let's move on," Fawn suggested. "Maybe Moss will have water stored for you."
Slate nodded. Fawn had been doing fine the last few days. She didn't need to drink water very often, probably due to her SandWing father. Slate, on the other claw, wasn't fortunate enough to have inherited that gift.
Fawn and Slate quickly walked through the gully, Fawn getting strange stares by the other MudWings as she passed. Luckily, no one decided to heckle them. The two continued out of the other side of the dry riverbed without problem, and continued along the trail, deeper into the Diamond Spray Delta. Small mudhuts existed on either side of the path, every one of them occupied. A few of them had cattle outside, tied up and surprisingly not scared of the multitude of dragons around, any one of which could decide to make a cow a tasty treat whenever they desired. The smell of the dense population of dragons and cows permeated the area, causing Slate to wrinkle his nose in disgust. If the river branch was dried up, Slate wondered how the cows would get water. They had to drink even more water than MudWings. In fact, Slate wondered how he and Fawn would get water to their own small calf back at their mudhut, far outside of the central delta. Hopefully, no one would steal or eat her while they were gone.
Finally, the two reached the small mudhut belonging to Fawn's sibs. A single MudWing stood outside, padding the walls of the hut with mud. It didn't seem to work well, the soil was far too dry to stick on. He looked over at Fawn, with a bored look. "Oh, Fawn," he said. "You were coming today, right." He paid Slate little attention. This was Hornwort, the youngest of Fawn's three remaining (half)-sibs. He was a full MudWing, unlike Fawn, although other dragons sometimes said his snout was shaped similarly (it was slightly pointer than the average MudWing, but nowhere near the extent as Fawn and Slate's snouts). "Moss is inside the hut right now. She might be in the cellar."
Fawn stuck her head into the mudhut. It was small, just large enough for three dragons. They used to have a larger one, back in the war, back when Peat and Turf were still alive, and back before Slate hatched, when Fawn was still allowed to live with her sibs, but they didn't need it anymore. A small hole at the opposite side of the hut, just large enough for a single dragon to fit in, led down to the 'cellar,' a tiny space where the three MudWings kept their treasure and food stores. Fawn could see Moss's thick tail sticking out of the end of the tunnel, swishing back and forth as she sifted through treasure the sibs had earned in the war. Moss heard Fawn enter, and snorted as she recognized her half-sib's pawsteps.
"Fawn," she muttered, her voices muted. She took a couple steps back, trying to back her way out of the tunnel. She was larger than Fawn, and was currently the bigwings of the sib group. Originally, Peat had been their bigwings, but she'd been killed in the war. Moss still blamed Fawn for that, though Slate thought it was ridiculous. Fawn hadn't even fought in the battle where Peat had died; she'd been taking care of Slate. Although, that was why Moss blamed her for it. Had Fawn not been absent, and had decided to abandon Slate's lonely egg like any normal MudWing would have, maybe Peat would still be alive.
Moss continued trying to get out of the tunnel. Fawn thought a little bit about asking her if she needed help, but decided that Moss wouldn't take it very well. Eventually, Moss backed out of the tunnel, and turned herself around, frowning at her sister. "I take it you want your payment," she growled.
Fawn nodded uncomfortably. Queen Moorhen had promised every sib group drafted into the war treasure afterwards, and it came in monthly installments. How much each sib group got was based on how long they had fought, how many siblings they had currently, permanent injuries, and sibling deaths. It was given to their bigwings, or whatever dragon was acting as bigwings if their bigwings had died. So, Moss had gotten it, and whenever Fawn visited, gave the hybrid her share. Which was usually a lot less than a quarter of the total pension. Yet, there wasn't anything she could do. After Slate hatched, Peat said that it was either him or them. Maybe it was Fawn's SandWing motherly instinct, but she'd stayed with Slate, and hadn't fought alongside her sibs in the last three years of the war. So Moss wouldn't give Fawn any of the additional money for Peat and Turf's deaths, since they'd been killed after Fawn had left. Fawn assumed that Moss had shaved off more of the treasure just out of spite, but it wasn't like she could do anything about it. If Moss just decided to cut her off, there wasn't anyone Fawn could talk to in order to get recourse. She didn't even count as a MudWing, it was fortunate that Moss got any treasure for Fawn being part of their sib group. Technically, Slate didn't count as a MudWing either, but he'd easily pass as one so long no one asked too many questions about his yellowish-white horns.
Moss grumbled and handed a small number of copper coins over to Fawn, glaring directly into the hybrid's eyes. Fawn accepted them, and quickly counted them in her head. It was less than last time.
"Her majesty reduced our pension," Moss explained, the word 'majesty' dripping with vitriol. "Again." Fawn wasn't sure if she was lying or not, but it was believable.
"It's like she wants the entire Diamond Spray Delta to starve," Moss continued grumbling. In this case, 'she' was Queen Moorhen.
Fawn nodded quietly. Moss wasn't wrong. The Diamond Spray Delta and other MudWing settlements along the Diamond Spray River had long had a contentious relationship with the queen in the south. There had been a rebellion during the war, but it had petered out, and the whole thing had gone unresolved for seven years. Yet, dragons were starting to get fed up again.
Slate looked behind him as he heard the fluttering of wingbeats. A small MudWing landed behind him, giving Slate a glare. This was Lichen. Slate smiled back politely as Lichen pushed past him, carrying a few leather sacks beneath her wing. One smelt good, like freshly cooked meat. "I'm back," she stated. "I see Fawn is here. Come to take more of our treasure?"
Moss glanced past Fawn. "Did you find any water?" she asked Lichen.
Lichen nodded, waving one of her sacks. It rocked back and forth, bouncing as it her against her scales "A little. It's a bit dirtier than normal, but we'll survive. Get out here, Moss, so we can eat."
Fawn stepped to the side as Moss walked out of the mudhut. Hornwort looked excited, smelling the meal. "You've outdone yourself again, Lichen," he laughed. "You see Fawn, this is what you've missed. You should've given Slate up and stayed with us."
Fawn gave Hornwort a glare, but he didn't respond. She couldn't have done that. Maybe if Slate wasn't her only egg. If he'd had sibs, she could have done the normal MudWing thing. But for whatever reason, he was her only egg, and she couldn't just have left him to die. She looked over at Slate, as if trying to apologize for her half-sib's behavior. He plastered on a smile.
Lichen opened the sack and laid it down on the dry soil to the side of the mudhut. There were four rabbits inside, all cooked. Not a large meal, but large meals weren't common in the Diamond Spray Delta. The local lords usually put a feast together for breeding night once a month, although they seemed to have been getting smaller in recent years, and neither Fawn nor Slate were invited.
Lichen passed out the rabbits out, one to Moss, Hornwort, and the smallest one to Fawn. Moss put it up to her snout, taking in a deep whiff of her meal before nibbling on it. "This is great," she complimented her sib. "What did you put on it?"
"I found some great spices down by the dry riverbed," Lichen commented. "Not exactly sure what they're called, but they sure smelled good. I brought some extras back, although I don't know how long it'll be before they go bad. I'll put them in the cellar after we're done."
Fawn tore her small rabbit in half, and handed the larger piece to Slate. He eagerly swallowed it down. It was good. Very, very good, nothing like normal meals in the Diamond Spray Delta. It was disappointing when he had finished the rabbit, the tiny bones being crushed under his teeth. Well, the two of them would be back in another month.
Lichen brought out her other sack, which squished slightly as she set it in front of them. She opened it to reveal murky water inside. She offered it first to Moss, who vigorously started to drink it down. After she had had her fill, she gave it to Hornwort, who gave back to Lichen in turn.
"Could I have a sip?" Slate asked quietly, after Lichen was done drinking.
Moss snorted in irritation, and glared at Fawn. "Tell your dragonet not to be greedy. SandWings don't need water."
Fawn gave Slate a look of sympathy, and didn't follow her sib's instructions. "It's alright," she said to Slate. "We can find some for you on our way home." Slate smiled cautiously. He wished Fawn had just scolded him. It would make things easier.
Moss bared her teeth. "I told you to tell him to apologize. If he doesn't, the both of you shouldn't bother coming back next month." Lichen continued sipping the water, whereas Hornwort uncomfortably averted his eyes from the conversation.
Fawn sighed. "Slate, please apologize," she muttered.
Slate twisted his face into a smile, trying to force himself to appear genuine. "I'm sorry for asking you for water," he replied.
Moss smirked, satisfied. "There. He's almost seven, isn't he? Even if he's not a real MudWing, he's living with us. He's got to learn some manners. Can't have him behaving like a SandWing here."
Slate scratched his claws against the dry dirt. You fought with SandWings in the war, you old hag, he wanted to say, but held his silence. Your sibs died alongside SandWings.
"Did you hear the rumors?" Lichen suddenly said, trying to change the subject. The sun was just starting to set, sky was lit up with reds and orange. "The old rebellion is back."
"The old rebellion?" Moss asked in surprise. "They've been gone for seven years. Are these rumors of the true type, or the false?"
Lichen shrugged her forepaws. "Dunno. But Linden said that one of her sibs overheard a MudWing whose sib had talked to one of Glen's old underlings a few days before. Apparently Glen is back, and she's recruiting. Apparently there'll be a message sent out to the entire Delta soon, asking us to rise up against the crown."
"I'm excited," Hornwort spoke up with a grin. "I wish I could've been there for the old rebellion. If we weren't so busy fighting IceWings, we could've helped Glen topple Moorhen's posh tail of her glittery throne by now."
"Or at least have forced her to give us a better pension," Lichen grumbled. "I wonder took her so long?"
Slate glanced over to her mother. Fawn was gently chewing on her rabbit, not participating in the treasonous conversation of her siblings.
"The damn war, that's what," Moss snorted, tapping a talon to the ground. "Well, let's hope this rumor is true, and she her throat wasn't actually slit by Queen Moorhen's assassins seven years ago like everyone thinks."
"We'll find out pretty soon," Lichen beamed.
The rest of the dinner went smoothly, and Fawn got herself and Slate out of there as soon as it was polite to do so. Their journey back to their small mudhut on the outside of the Diamond Spray Delta went smoothly.
As Slate and Fawn reached it, walking through the cracked doorway, Slate rested his head down on the cold ground. Fawn put the coins Moss had given her in the small collection she had, and lied down next to Slate.
"I hate this," Slate grumbled.
"Hmm?" Fawn asked. "Hate what?"
"Everything," Slate growled. "Linden and every dragon who stares at us when we walk by. Moss, Lichen, and Hornwort, and how you have to grovel beneath them every month just for treasure you rightfully earned years ago. Queen Moorhen. The entire Diamond Spray Delta. There's nothing here, and there's no way we can escape. Do you think it would be better in the Sand Kingdom? I've heard Queen Thorn is good."
"Maybe," Fawn replied. "Although I doubt it. Neither of us look much like SandWings."
Slate sighed. What was the point of it all? It felt every day was spent just trying to survive. He needed a miracle, but MudWings didn't have any gods to pray to. Maybe Glen. He knew a bit about her. She'd started the rebellion during the war, and survived for a year on nothing but dew. She'd faced down a hundred of Queen Moorhen's loyalists alone, and came out victorious, with only a scratch on her ear. She'd turned a dragon to stone just with her glare. The legends got a bit ridiculous, but the important thing was that she inspired hope. Hope for a better future for the Diamond Spray Delta. Maybe one where hybrids were allowed. Did Glen like hybrids? Slate hoped so. Maybe he could fight Queen Moorhen for her, and prove to Glen that he and Fawn just as good, if not better, than any pureblooded MudWing. Fawn had told Slate some of her war stories before he had been born. Peat had given her the most dangerous but the most important missions. Sneaking behind enemy lines to take out an IceWing commander. Drawing a platoon of SeaWings into a fleet of quicksand so they could be easily picked off. Slate could do that for Glen. He'd take down Queen Moorhen with his own claws, forcing her to submit to Glen. He visualized doing it, his talons tearing into the arrogant queen's wings, ripping off her crown and tearing out the jewels in it, handing them to starving dragonets.
Slate's head suddenly whipped up in alarm. He glanced around. His mother snored quietly, Fawn's chest gently rising and falling. He must have fallen asleep. Had he been woken up by something. He was about to put his head back down, when he heard it again. Squish. Like a dragon's paw sinking into mud. That was strange. It was dry outside, and he couldn't hear any rain. How could there be mud? Maybe a cow had accidentally stepped into their own patty.
Squish. He heard it again, this time closer. It was loud, louder than a cow. It had to be a dragon. And whoever it was, they were moving towards them. Squish. Slate turned to his mom, and shook her back and forth. "Mom, get up," he whispered.
Fawn raised her head with a yawn. She glanced over at her son, tired and confused. "Slate, you're stabbing me with your claws."
"Shhh!" Slate replied, releasing his hold on his mother slightly. Squish. It was close now. Almost to the entrance of the mudhut. "There's someone outside."
Fawn frowned, and glanced towards the entrance of the mudhut. Squish. Squish. Squish. Slate's heart pulsed, and his claws tensed up. The dry dirt beneath him started to crumble and turn into a muddy mush. Squish. Squish. Squish.
Suddenly, the blue tip of a dragon's snout poked through the entrance to the mudhut. Slate sprung into action, throwing himself at the intruder with a frightening roar. The intruder yelled as Slate dug his talons into the dragon's neck, before he was thrown off into a puddle of wet mud. He quickly rose to his paws, and saw his intruder in the moonlight. A SeaWing towered over him, his shark-like teeth as sharp as razors. The roar of battle quenching his terror, Slate fearlessly jumped at the SeaWing, trying to claw at the SeaWing's back. He landed, holding on to the SeaWing's backside, the claws raking across the dragon's scales.
With a twist of his body, the SeaWing turned around, Slate being unable to hold on. His claws drew blood as Slate was flung away from the SeaWing onto hard, dry ground. As he tried to get up again, the SeaWing walked towards him, and the ground suddenly softened into thick mud, causing Slate to slip. He held out his tail as the SeaWing lunged forwards, causing the dragon to trip on it and skid across the mud, landing on Slate with a thump. Slate tried to get up, but the SeaWing was too heavy, crushing Slate beneath his body. Slate gave out a cry of alarm as the SeaWing stretched out a paw, holding Slate's head down to the ground.
"STOP! STOP!" Fawn ran out of the mudhut in alarm, seeing the SeaWing pinning Slate to the ground. "Please don't hurt him, please! We have money! Just don't kill him!"
The SeaWing turned towards Fawn's eyes, his cold eyes glaring into hers. She shook. If she tried to attack the lumbering SeaWing, he could break Slate's neck with a quick twist. "Hurt him?" The SeaWing growled, his voice deep and angry. "He's the one who attacked me!"
"You tried to come into our house!" Slate protested. He let out a cough, his throat being crushed. The SeaWing let up his grip slightly, his webbed paws raising from Slate's neck. From this point of view, Slate could see a leather pouch strapped to the SeaWing's side, along with the hilt of a dagger. The two of them seemed to be lying in a pool of mud centered around the SeaWing, even though the rest of the ground around them was cracked and dry.
"Yes, I did," the SeaWing snorted, not seeing why that was a problem. "Are dragons not allowed to talk to other dragons these days without being attacked by angry hatchlings? Ridiculous. Back in my day, MudWings and SeaWings were cordial with each other."
Fawn growled. "It's the middle of the night. What do you want?"
"You're Fawn, aren't you?" the SeaWing asked. Fawn frowned, unsure why a SeaWing would know her name. The SeaWing pointed a claw to his neck, where three pink scars ran alongside it, like talons had burned into his scales. "Your son's father had similar scars, except . . . everywhere. Correct?"
"Get off my dragonet."
The SeaWing glanced down at Slate, his paw still over the young MudWing's throat. "Don't try to attack me again, please," he warned Slate, then stood up. Slate got up to his paws, the wet mud sticking onto his scales, and walked over towards his mother. As soon as he got a couple yards away from the SeaWing, the mud on his scales instantly dried and cracked, causing his scales to feel parched. Strange.
"Who are you?" Fawn asked warily.
"My name is Torrent," the SeaWing answered with a sigh. "I was friends with Slate's father."
He knows my name too, Slate realized. Fawn had never said it.
"Why should I care?" Fawn hissed. "He's not my mate. MudWings don't have mates."
"Well," Torrent yawned, "neither of you are truly MudWings, are you?"
Slate growled. "I'm a MudWing. Mostly."
"I suppose." Torrent nodded in agreement. "Do you know your father?"
Slate shook his head. Fawn opened her mouth, about to say something, but chose not to.
"His name is Schist," Torrent smiled.
Slate frowned. He remembered hearing that name somewhere. Suddenly it came to him, and his eyes opened wide in surprise. "Schist?" he asked in shock. "You mean Glen's sib?"
Torrent nodded, content, and Slate turned to Fawn. "I'm Glen's nephew?" Slate asked. "That Glen? Why didn't you tell me?"
"It didn't matter," Fawn grumbled, averting her eyes from her dragonet. "No one would care. MudWings don't do mates, or dragonets. Schist probably has lots of dragonets by now."
Slate tapped a talon on the dry ground beneath him. His mother was right about MudWings, of course, except maybe Torrent was also a little right. They weren't MudWings. Not fully. He was related to Glen — this was definitely important to him. He had a right to know, didn't he?
"Why did you tell him this?" Fawn snapped at Torrent. "Did you come here just to reveal private information to my son? It was seven years ago, and the only reason it happened was because no one else would even consider the two of us. Schist probably doesn't even remember me."
Torrent rolled his eyes. "Look under your paws," Torrent commanded, "then look under mine."
Slate and Fawn complied. Under Slate's paws, he saw dry, broken soil. Dying plants and swamp-grasses. Under Torrent's, the delta looked almost normal. In a perfect circle around him, the ground was wet and muddy, covering the SeaWing's paws. How was that possible?
Seeing Slate's expression, Torrent grinned slyly. "Do you see it? The dryness? A dark curse has placed on Pyrrhia, and if it's not broken soon, this continent will shrivel up and every dragon in the Mud Kingdom will die of thirst. But you can break it."
"What?" Fawn laughed. "What are you talking about? Curses?"
Torrent nodded, and turned to Slate. "You can see with your own eyes, can't you? This isn't a normal drought. There is evil magic at work here."
Slate squirmed uncomfortably. Break curses? Could he do that? He didn't think so. And this SeaWing — he could be dangerous. He could be lying. "I'm sorry, sir. I need to stay with my mother."
Torrent frowned, looking annoyed. He glanced behind him, and moved his claws towards his dagger. Slate and Fawn tensed up, but Torrent only reached into his leather pouch, and pulled out a cloth sack. He opened it up, and looked inside, then flung some of the contents out towards Slate and Fawn. The two both jumped back in alarm as hundreds of tiny pebbles sailed towards them. Yet as the pebbles flew through the air, they shifted right before Slate's eyes, transforming into tiny gems and golden coins.
Slate's eyes opened in shock as treasure landed around him and his mother. He picked a piece up. It was real gold. "Magic," he whispered.
Fawn picked up a huge ruby, her talons shaking as it glittered in the moonlight. This alone was worth more than the total amount of treasure she'd had in her entire life, no more than the total amount of treasure she'd seen in her entire life. She could do anything she wanted with this. Buy a mansion, even a palace. She'd never have to worry about if Moss would give her a pension or not. She'd never starve again at night. It was a miracle.
"W-why?" Fawn stammered. "How?"
"Schist earned it," Torrent explained. "You saw his scars, didn't you? Pretty hard to forget a dragon with the right side of his body burned off. This is how he got them. This all should belong to him, so I figured it should also belong to his son."
Slate briefly considered mentioning that MudWings don't do sons, but held his tongue.
Torrent re-tied the sack, and casually tossed it over to Fawn. It landed by her claws. She put them around the neck of the bag and tried to lift it up, but she could barely make it budge.
"Thing is," Torrent clucked, "all of this will be worthless in the Mud Kingdom if everyone here dies of thirst. Maybe your mother will be fine, being half-SandWing, but there's not much point in having so much treasure if everyone you wanted to brag about it to is dead. So, Slate. Have you changed your mind about joining me?"
Slate glanced down at the ground, hundreds of coins and gems covering it, then back at his mother, almost crying in joy as she hugged the sack against her underbelly. She looked over at him, and nodded. He turned back to the SeaWing. "I'll do it," he answered, shaking. "I'll do it. I'll break this curse." This time, courage shone through his voice.
"Good!" Torrent replied. "I like that spunk. Say goodbye to your mom, and get anything you want to take with you so we can get going."
Slate frowned. "Wait, we're leaving now?"
Torrent nodded. "I'd like to be out of here before dawn. The war might be over, but I don't think most MudWings would take kindly to seeing a SeaWing so deep in their territory. Anyways, we've got a long flight to Crosswinds ahead of us."