The moss and winding roots didn’t creak as they moved toward the edge, but the low nervous rustle of birds and flying lizards made Moon’s spines want to twitch. They reached the outer circle of large trees. The view was nothing but empty blue sky and the rolling, brushy green hills below, and the wind came straight at them from the northwest. Keeping his voice to a low whisper, Stone said, “Probably Fell. We need to split them.” He jerked his head. “You go out the other side.”
Moon twitched his spines in agreement and ducked back through the trees. This was bad, but could still be survivable. The Fell must be angling up toward them from downwind. They would have spotted Moon and Stone sometime after dawn and been waiting for them to stop to rest. It probably meant there weren’t that many, maybe just a small scouting party. They wouldn’t want to fight inside the cloud forest but they wouldn’t be sure exactly where Moon and Stone would come out.
Moon reached the outer fringe of the forest, stepped between the trees, and spotted three dakti riding the wind high above. He flung himself out into the air, extended one wing and twisted as if he had fouled the other one.
The dakti took the bait and dropped on him. At the last instant, Moon snapped his other wing out, caught the wind and used it to slide under the forest. He caught a dangling root and contracted his body, tucking himself up and out of sight.
Two dakti shot past but one tried to follow him under the roots and blundered in right beneath him. Moon fell on it, shredded its right wing, dropped it, then dove on the other two. He caught one as it foolishly tried to come up at him and ripped its chest open. The other fled, flapping madly, and that was when he heard the crashing and growling from the far side of the forest.
Moon snarled, forgot the dakti and flapped up toward the roots. He found an opening in the forest floor and wriggled through, clawed his way past roots and moss. Dodging between the narrow trunks, the roots vibrated under his feet and the trees ahead shook and thrashed as something struggled just at the edge of the forest. Moon swung up into the canopy for a better view. He spotted Stone and snarled in horror.
Stone was in his winged form but something had fallen on him, a huge thing like a sticky web that had trapped his left wing and half his body against the dead trees on the outer edge. A kethel flapped just above him, swiped at Stone as he struggled to free himself.
Moon leapt from tree to tree then jumped down into the understory, dangerously close to the thrashing body. Moon lunged in and ripped at the sticky net with his claws. This close he saw it had been made from a sac, the substance that the kethel could secrete to carry dakti or rulers. It was caught all through the dead trees and there was no way he could shred it fast enough—
Something hit his back and bounced him off the nearest tree. He fell onto the moss and rolled to see three more dakti clawing their way toward him, jaws gaping with laughter. But the trees were too close together for them to come at him at once, and one shouldered the others aside to be the first to leap on him. That was a big mistake.
Moon caught its shoulders, yanked it forward, spread his jaw to its fullest extent and bit its face and muzzle off. He flung the still-twitching body into the second one, who tried to retreat but wedged its body against a tree long enough to get its chest ripped open. The third fled but Moon caught it in the dead trees at the fringe, slammed it down between the roots and snapped its neck. The dead roots cracked and broke under the force of the blow, and Moon realized this was how he could free Stone.
He shoved through the trunks to where Stone’s left foot was trapped in the sac-net, then started to claw and rip at the brittle roots of the two nearest dead trees. Without the root connection to the rest of the forest, the trees started to sway and topple. Stone must have felt the give; he jerked his foot and the trees ripped out and dragged half a dozen others with them.
Stone dropped and twisted, the sac stretching, strands snapping. The kethel caught the edge of the forest with one clawed foot to swipe at Stone’s face. Moon was close enough to see the collar of skulls around its neck, all groundlings, different shapes and sizes, some so recent rotting skin was still attached.
Another dark body loomed over them, blotting out the light.
Moon looked up at another kethel and thought, well, we’re dead now.
Then it slammed down atop the first kethel, yanked it off its perch and dragged it away. Stone twisted out of the sac-net as they fell past him. The two struggling kethel dropped out of sight under the bulk of the forest.
Moon leapt into the air as Stone wheeled away. He flapped until he caught the wind and then looked back over his shoulder. The two kethel fell, locked in combat. The kethel who had helped them had to be the one from the half-Fell flight. It was the same size and wore no collar.
Three smaller figures darted away in the opposite direction, fleeing the battle. It was a ruler and two dakti.
Ahead, Stone growled. Moon turned back and they flew south and away.
They flew until the cloud forest was out of sight. The terrain below was spidered with river channels running through shallow gorges, steep and inhospitable for groundlings. It was shaded by the occasional tall slender tree with a single layer of delicate canopy, spread like a parasol. Moon tried to signal Stone to land, and finally Stone circled down.
Stone landed on a rocky island that broke a wide channel into a short waterfall. He perched on the rock, then shifted to groundling and collapsed face down. Moon hit the rock, frantic, and shifted to lose his claws as he crouched to examine Stone. He didn’t see the big wounds he was afraid of, just streaks of blood from scratches on Stone’s arms and back. Then Stone croaked, “Left shoulder’s dislocated.”
Moon hissed, rolled him over, and shoved the shoulder back into place. Stone snarled as it clicked into the socket, then gasped in relief. He blinked and yawned. “Yeah, that’s better.”
“How did you fly like that?” Moon demanded. The wing joins used different muscles, but still.
“Not very well,” Stone admitted.
Moon pulled Stone’s pack around and dug in it. He pulled out a paper-wrapped packet and sniffed it. “You’re still carrying around the bug paste?”
Stone worked his shoulder carefully, his jaw set against the pain. “Obviously.”
Moon snarled in frustration, shoved it back in the pack, and dug out the half-full waterskin to hand to Stone. He took the empty one to the edge of the island to fill it. This is stupid, he thought. We can’t keep doing this. They were relying on luck and the word of a bladder-boat groundling that they were even on the trail of the right flying boat. And that shitting kethel was still following them.
Moon splashed water on his face and felt the sting of claw slashes and bruises he hadn’t noticed until now. He sat back and looked at Stone.
Stone was watching him, the waterskin on his chest. “We’re not stopping.”
It wasn’t nearly as satisfying to hiss in groundling form, and Moon was more exhausted now than frustrated. “We don’t even know if we’re going in the right direction.”
“We do, because the Fell are going this way.”
“They could be following us.”
“Then where are they?” Stone lifted his brows. He sat up with a groan, cradling his arm, and jerked his chin toward the empty sky. “That was the flight’s rear guard. The rest of them are ahead of us. They sent scouts ahead and spotted the Hians.”
He had a point. Moon rubbed his eyes and tabled the decision for the moment. He was suddenly hungry, and knew it was probably just nerves more than anything else. “That other kethel, that was the one the half-Fell queen sent. Which means the rest of the half-Fell flight has to be out here somewhere. They’re following us, fighting the other Fell.”