Sixteen Moons | Shelha Series 3 | ✔

Chapter Forty-Five: Shadows in the Forest

We fled and scattered beyond belief,

And through the world's great wonders roamed,

But nothing can beat the sweet relief

Of family safe and love come home.

And family grows, like ev'ry tree,

A refuge for others without a place;

A home for those in greatest need.

Our weakness lies within our grace.

In the far north, a Whitewing fanned its wings. Spawned in fall, it came to this forest at the harshest time of year, and survived. Its rearmost wings were pure white, its body huge, and its lust for hunting as keen as the knife-edged wind. But prey was not to be found here. The hunter's instinct turned, its internal compass, once fixed on this forest, realigning its poles in reverse. It wanted to go south again. Back to its birthplace, where there would be prey.

Wings like a small Draygon's beat a thundering crescendo. In a moment the Whitewing reached the sky, oblivious to the stowaway clinging to its back.

Wing looked up as a the sky gave a familiar shriek. Sethral cannoned into him and wrapped around his neck.

He staggered back, laughing. "Sethral! Great Shelha, you grew!"

"Yeah, she did." Ryatzi trotted up, sounding rueful.

Wing tapped his back. The Saberel hopped on, hugged him tightly and hopped off again.

Wing nodded. "Yup, she beat you. You have my sympathy, kiddo. Sethral, c'mere. Let me hug you properly."

Sethral jumped off and flung herself on him from the front instead. Wing wrapped his paws around her.

"Is anyone else back yet?" said Ryatzi.

"Jay's on his way, but I don't know about the others. It is only North moon though."