Author's Notes: Sorry about the wait. I've been traveling. I knew I could update from my destination (which I'm at now), but obviously I couldn't do much in between here and there. But anyway, I'm here now, and I'm going to be here until . . . Friday. So I've got to be done by Friday. If I don't, this'll have to run on after Christmas.

Chapter 3: Just a Dream?

I just couldn't believe my luck. Frantically I climbed up toward the window to see if I could spot the ticket. All I could see was a falcon flying a distance away. No ticket in sight.

I didn't know what to do. All I could do was stand there and stare out at the cold night air rushing by. Whatever would I do? I had just gotten Junko into big trouble!

Just my luck, I could hear voices behind me: Stork's and Junko's.

"What're you doing back here?" Stork demanded.

"Uh . . . I was giving him some hot chocolate . . ."

I turned around, and there were Stork and Junko, talking in front of the kitchen door. Neither of them seemed to have realized I was there.

Stork raised an eyebrow and asked, "Did the young man in the back get refreshment?"

Junko shook his head.

Stork seemed to soak that in, then said, "Alright." Then he raised an eyebrow at him. "Hey, I never punched your ticket."

Junko started digging in his pockets. "I had it somewhere . . ."

Stork's voice caught an edge again. "Are you telling me you lost your ticket?"

Oh, no!

Junko looked flustered. "Well, I . . . I might have left it on the bridge."

I stepped forward at once, announcing my presence. "He didn't lose his ticket. I did!" I looked at Junko apologetically. "You left it on a chair on the bridge. I was trying to return it to you, but as I was coming I saw that open window," I pointed toward the window behind me, "and I was going to close it and . . . the wind blew it out of my hand."

Stork put his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling as if praying for patience.

I had to fix this somehow. Quickly I dug into my own pocket. "You can have my ticket," I told Junko, pulling it out of my pocket and holding it out for him.

Stork made a horrified squeak and snatched the ticket out of my hands just before Junko was about to grab it. Then he held it up to my face, gesturing to it, his voice shaking with absolute fury. "These tickets," he growled, "are not transferable!"

I took the ticket back, my heart pounding. If I couldn't give Junko a ticket, how could I possibly fix this?

Stork turned to Junko. "You'll have to come with me, man," he said. He put a hand on Junko's shoulder, looked me right in the eye and shook his head disapprovingly, and then led Junko away down the hall. Junko looked back with a fearful expression on his face.

This was bad. And it was all my fault!

Quickly I went back to the bridge, not knowing what else to do. I had caused quite a problem.

"Hey, you," Finn called once I was back, "where's Junko?"

When he asked, I felt close to tears. "I lost his ticket!" I blurted. "Stork's really mad! He said Junko would have to come with him."

Finn's eyes widened. "He said what? You know what the means, don't ya?"

I shook my head. I had no idea what that meant.

"He might, like, throw him off the ship or something!" Finn gasped. He had gotten to his feet now, looking truly frightened. "He might give him a parachute or something, but if he doesn't have a ticket, he can't be on the ship!"

Finn's words made perfect sense. "Oh, no!" I said. "Oh, no, oh, no . . ."

"Finn! There you are!"

Finn turned around to see Chuckie running at him. "Oh, great," Finn muttered.

"I found you, I found you, I found you!" Chuckie cried, jumping up and down. "I looked for you all over!"

Finn raised an eyebrow at that and exchanged a glance with me. We were both thinking the same thing. The bridge wasn't that large. Where else could Finn have gone?

"I looked on that side of the bridge and by the table and by the helm and by the window and in the bathroom—" Finn actually cringed at the "bathroom" part, "—and then I went out on the deck and . . . Oh, Finn! I found this on the deck! It was floating in the wind!" He held it up as he spoke. "Doesn't it look just like the—"

I couldn't believe it. "Junko's ticket!" I ran forward and snatched it out of Chuckie's hands. "Oh, thank you, Chuckie, thank you!"

Chuckie raised an eyebrow at me. "Uh . . . your welcome?"

I held the ticket up to show Finn. "I gotta go after them!" I said it once. I spun around and headed back out into the hallway.

"Hey, wait!" Finn called, but I ignored him.

I ran down the hall in the direction I saw Stork and Junko go. Where could they be? They had to be here somewhere . . .

I checked every room as I ran until I finally got to a point where the hallways diverged just under a hatchway to the roof. I stopped and glanced around wildly. There was no sign of either of them. Which way did they go?

When I glanced to my right, however, I noticed that I was looking into on the sleeping quarters. And in there was the redhead. Maybe he knew where they went!

I ran in there as fast as I could, sliding to a stop in front of him. "Where'd they go?"

The boy had been sitting on the bed, looking down at his feet in either dejection or plain exhaustion, I couldn't tell which. When I spoke, he looked up at me with a bewildered expression. "What?"

"What happened to them?" I asked. "The pilot and the Wallop?"

He stared at me blankly, blinking slowly.

"Please!" I begged. I held up the ticket to show him how serious this was. "The Wallop's in big trouble! You've gotta help me!"

The redhead continued to look at me blankly for a moment, and I worried he wouldn't speak to me at all. Then suddenly he stood up and said, "Then what are we waiting for? Come on!"

Next thing I knew, he was leading me out into the hallway again and looking both directions. "There," he said, pointing.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "The hatchway? But that leads up to—"

"—the roof," he agreed.

I could hardly believe it. "Why would they . . . ?"

The redhead shrugged. "Dunno," he admitted. "Just what I saw." He looked around. "Where's Radarr?"

"Huh?"

"My friend. He's usually right behind me."

Oh. The pet-thing. "He wasn't in the room when I found you," I admitted.

The boy looked worried about that. "I hope he hasn't gotten into trouble." And with that, he started to climb the ladder toward the closed hatch.

I started climbing after him. "So . . . what's the problem?" he asked.

"Stork thought Junko—the Wallop—lost his ticket," I explained, "but I found it."

The boy had made it to the top and was opening the hatch now. "So why the rush?" he asked as he unscrewed the wheel.

"I'm afraid he might throw Junko off the ship or something without the ticket!" I admitted.

The boy stopped and looked down at me. "Stork? Throw a kid off the ship?"

"With a parachute," I added.

"Still," the boy said, "I know he's weird, but he didn't strike me as that type. And believe me," he muttered, "I would know." He started at the hatch again. "But if it means that much to ya, we'll find 'em."

I breathed a sigh of relief. What a great guy. He didn't even know me or Junko, and he was braving the roof of the ship just to help out.

He finally got the hatch open and then looked at me, subconsciously pulling his thin jacket tighter across his chest. "Well," he said, "here goes nothing."

Next thing I knew, he had disappeared into the cold night air.

It was my turn. I climbed up the ladder and stuck my head out.

Gosh, it was cold! The icy wind blew against my face with such ferocity! I was very happy to have such a warm robe, as thick as the thickest fleece. I sort of wished it was covering my face now; my face stung badly at the first slap of the wind and then grew almost completely numb.

As I climbed out of the hatch completely, gasping as my fingers touched the cold ice coating on the ship, the boy turned and hauled me up as best he could. "Alright there?"

"Yeah?" I told him once I was up. "You?"

He nodded. "Just . . . chilly, isn't it?"

I had my fleece robe. The boy wasn't quite so lucky. I knew from the start his wasn't a winter coat, but it had looked somewhat doable when facing him in the warm confines of the ship; out here, in the frosty, speeding winds, his jacket seemed like a sick joke.

Pulling the jacket still tighter around himself, he didn't seem deterred. He looked around and then said, "There!"

I could just make out the shadows of a Wallop and a Merb in the light of a crystal lantern. "That's them!" I said. "Hey!" I shouted after them. "Hey! I found your ticket!" I waved the ticket in the wind, but the silhouettes didn't stop. "Wait!" The light was fading away in the darkness. "Hey! Wait! I have your ticket!"

"I don't think they heard you," the boy said. "Come on. We'll catch them."

He took hold of my arm, more to keep me steady on the slippery surface of the ship then anything, I think, and together we started off up the roof of the Condor Express. The wind slapped our faces with dozens of snowflakes a second, and we were constantly blinking them out of our eyes. I couldn't feel my face or my toes. The boy was constantly pulling at his jacket, as though if he put enough of the fabric in front of him it might finally offer him some protection. He should have a warm robe like mine, I thought. That might be a good Christmas present for him.

There was a light up ahead of us. "See?" the boy said confidently, sounding breathless. "I knew we'd catch them!"

But when we got closer, we could both see that this was not who we were looking for.

The light wasn't coming from a lantern but from a crystal staff lying on the ground, its multi-colored crystal tip glowing brightly. As we drew closer, we saw that there was a person with it, but it was no person we knew. The stranger wore a tight-fitting outfit. His shoes were narrow, he wore pant leggings, and his top had spiky shoulder covers but no sleeves. His gloves ran all the way up to his elbows, and the tips of his fingers on his gloves were pointy, long, and sharp-looking, as if he had long, talon-shaped nails. He wore a spiky hood that tapered off like a beak in front of his nose. The entire outfit was loud and multi-colored, reminding me a little bit of the hippies downstairs. He had a short beard that was red-violet. He sat on a chair in front of his staff and seemed to be strumming on a guitar, singing something about, "Fly high with the sky!"

As soon as the boy and I stopped in front of him, perplexed, the man looked up. "Oh, high kiddos! Well, look at that! Some of the kids actually found me! Oh, you two are adorable!"

The boy and I exchanged glances. What in the world . . . ?

"Oh, it's not me you're looking for, is it? Well, what can I do for you two young'uns, eh?"

"Uh . . ." I said uncertainly, "I'm looking for a . . . a guy . . ."

The strangely-dressed man nodded toward the boy. "What's wrong with that one?"

Despite the cold and his light jacket, I saw the redhead blush at the comment.

"He's a Wallop," I defined. "I have his ticket." I held it up for the man to see.

"Oh, wow, look at that, girly," he said, standing up and grabbing his staff as he did so before snatching the ticket from me. "Look at that. An official, authentic, genuine ticket to ride! Very important object there, very important." He handed it back to me. "Better keep that safe, darling. I would recommend somewhere no one would look: a bra, in underwear—"

Now it was my turn to blush. The redhead looked away in genuine embarrassment.

"—or your shoe. Experience shows those are the safest places."

The boy blinked at that. "But you said bra. How can you have experience—?"

"Okay," I said, interrupting that awful question before it got too far. "Good advice." I slipped the ticket into my shoe and then stood up. "We really should be looking for the Wallop . . ."

"Not that I have much use for tickets," the man said as if neither of us had spoken. "No, I ride for free, sista! Oh, yeah, I hop aboard this carrier anytime I please! I own this ship, really." He put a finger to his lip thoughtfully. "It's like I'm the king of this ship," he said gleefully. "King Arygyn of the Con Ex. In fact, I'd say I'm the king of Polar Terra!"

Both us stared at him in astonishment. King of Polar Terra? This guy was nuts, right?

"Oh, where are my manners?" he said, flashing his brightly-colored fingernails at us. "Sit down, you two. Take a load off!"

Not knowing what we should do, the boy and I did as we were told and sat down in front of him.

"Oh, dear, dear," the man—Arygyn?—said, "you look a little cold there, skipper."

I glanced at the boy next to me. He wasn't hugging himself or anything, but if I stared at him hard enough, I could see he was shivering.

"Here, have some Joe, kid," Arygyn said. He took a kettle hanging off his staff—had that even been there before?—and poured a mug for the boy. "Nice hot refreshment," he said, handing it to him. "Perfect for a cold winter's night."

The boy took the "Joe" drink and stared down into it a moment, hesitating. Then he finally took a sip. It must have not been that great, because the next moment he was choking and trying to cough it back up.

I politely declined from the cup held out to me.

Something was bugging me about what Arygyn had said. "What about Santa?" I asked him.

"Santa?" Arygyn repeated.

"Isn't he the king of Polar Terra?"

"Oh, that," Arygyn said, flailing his hand again as if to show off his nail. "The big man who is supposed to have that magic sleigh and the ability to fly to every single house on the same freaking night? This guy?" He pulled out a Santa hat—like the kettle, it just seemed to appear—and stuck it on his head. Then he began to "Ho, ho, ho!" while making very robotic movements just like the mechanical Santa in the Christmas display. He laughed as if this was some kind of joke.

I shrank back at that. I was just starting to think Santa might be real. Was Arygyn telling me otherwise?

Arygyn peered at me right in the eye. "So what's your opinion on the big man, since you brought him up?"

I hesitated. "I want to believe," I admitted, "but I—"

"But," he said, "you don't want to be hoodwinked, bamboozled. You don't wanna be led down the primrose path! You don't want to be conned or dupped, have the wool pulled over your eyes. You don't want to be taken for a ride!"

The next thing I knew, he had stamped his staff against the roof of the ship, and the light went out. Both the boy and I jumped up in surprised.

Then Arygyn was standing in front of us again holding his unlit staff. He was still looking right at me. "Seeing is believing, am I right, girly?"

"But what about this ship?" I asked.

"What about it?" Arygyn shot back.

"We're all really going to Polar Terra," I said, ". . . aren't we?"

He leaned forward, still staring me right in the eyes. "Aren't we?"

There was some sort of hint in his voice. "Are you saying that this is all . . . just a dream?" I asked him.

He smirked. "You said it, girly," he exclaimed, winking. "Not me." He snatched the mug of Joe out of the boy's hands and slurped it down in a few gulps. "So," he said, turning back to me, "let's go find that Wallop, shall we?"

But before he walked off, he turned back to us, looking at me again. "One other thing, dearie," he said. "Do you believe in Skeelurs?"

I shook my head. "Those are just myth," I said. "Magical, shape-changing guardians of Atmos? I don't know who came up with that."

Arygyn merely nodded and said, "Interesting." And with that, he started walking off so fast that the boy and I had lost track of him in the darkness before we could follow.

"Wait," I called after him. I started to struggle after him, and the boy followed, hugging himself against the cold. "Wait!"

But Arygyn was gone.

I struggled a little further through the snow before I finally stopped. Arygyn must be right. This must be a dream. "I have to wake up," I said to myself. "Yeah. I have to wake up." I pinched myself. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" That wasn't working, so I tried slapping myself. "Wake up!" Nothing doing. I fell to my knees and started picking up snow and throwing it in my face. "Wake up! Wake up!"

"Whoa!" the boy said. "Wait a minute!" He pulled me out of the snow. "I don't know about you," he said, "but if you're dreaming, then we're having the same dream."

He had a point there.

Suddenly there was a shout. "Kid! Girly!" We both looked up. It was Arygyn, calling us by his designated pet names for us. We could see the light of his staff headed toward us again. "Get your head out of the clouds, kids! Wake up! There's no sleepwalking on the Condor Express!"

When he came up, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. He had a pedal-powered heli-bike. Where in the world had he found a bike?

"That rhino you two were chasing must have already gone on ahead. We gotta get to the bow. Come on, up, kids! On the bike! We got some flyin' to do!"

"The bow?" I asked.

"The front, ya tenderfoot," he said. "We gotta get to the deck on front."

The boy made to climb on, but I grabbed his sleeve. "Are you sure about this?" I hissed to him.

"We don't really have much of a choice, do we?" he said.

"Come on, kids, come on!" Arygyn encouraged.

"What's the hurry?" the boy asked as he climbed on first. I climbed on after him, still unsure about this.

"So many questions, so many questions," Arygyn said lightly. He didn't seem to be grumbling about it; rather, he was beaming as if we were showing him marks of intelligence. "We're about cross quadrants off Polaris Pointe, and tame as it is, Polaris isn't exactly calm air this time of year. The winds are coming in from the north because of expanding air and whatnot. Anyone not anchored to this ship by that time is going to be swept right off the top by the winds. And once you fly off course at Polaris Pointe, you get sucked into the killer storm clouds on all sides. Once got caught in a Polaris gale myself while on a flight. Nearly got swept out, I did. Pulled a few feathers."

"Feathers?" I repeated.

But he didn't seem interested in the subject. "Okay, here we go!"

Next thing I knew, we were up in the air, flying as fast as we could toward the front. Problem was, Arygyn was having to do all the pedaling he could to keep up with the Condor Express, much less outpace it. I wasn't real comfortable with that; I was parked precariously on the back of the bike.

Suddenly I felt the bike bulk, and the next thing I knew, I was flying through the air, screaming.

I thought I was lost for sure. But Arygyn had taken his staff and shoved it in my direction, and I was able to grab onto it at the last moment. I heard him heave on the staff, and the next thing I knew, he had thrown me in front of him on the bike. Then he continued to pedal.

"There's only one trick to this, kids," he said. "When I say 'jump,' you . . . JUMP!"

Next I heard a rustle of feathers behind me, and I glanced back. Arygyn was nowhere to be seen, and a great, multi-colored bird—a Mynall bird—was soaring away from us.

The boy's eyes were wide as saucers. I met his gaze. "Did you see—?"

But he didn't let me finish. He grabbed my hand and pulled me off the bike, shouting, "Jump, remember?"

And then we were falling.