Creative Corner

[feels intensify]

Ahhhh, Shrike! You need a hug and a stern talking-to. The rest of the Midnight Sun still needs you!

I cracked up at "nice sweater" though. Snerk.

Chime woke up sore and irritated – she’d accidentally fallen asleep on one of the temple pews. She stretched out her coils carefully, wincing at each crack of vertebrae. All of her right wings had pins and needles where they’d been pressed up against the back of the seat, and she rolled off onto the floor, shaking out the offending appendages until feeling was restored.

What a promising start to the day.

She lay flat on her back for a little while, staring up at the soaring icy ceiling. How long had it been since she’d slept on a mattress? Months? A travesty, this was. It had taken so much work to get to this point, and here she was sleeping in a glorified cave like some kind of common soldier.

“Quint?” Chime had suddenly remembered her purpose for being in the temple at all, and she rolled quickly to her feet, slithering over to the nest they’d made for the mysterious young fae. “How did you sleep—“

The words died on her lips – the nest was empty, with nothing but a small fae-shaped depression in the grass. “Magnifique,” Chime muttered to herself, half-heartedly digging through the nest, as if there was a chance he could still be in there somewhere. Magnifique indeed. They had no idea who this dragon was or if they could trust him, and now he was Windsinger-knows-where. She should have followed her first instincts and just chucked him in a cell straight away.

“Quint?” she called out again, expanding her search to poke around the corners of the temple. There was no sign of him on the ground, so she took to the air, checking out the perches. He wasn’t there, nor in any of the upper alcoves, nor in Raust’s aerie. Neither was Raust, for that matter – maybe they’d gone off together somewhere.

Exiting the temple, she made her way down the sloping hallway, poking her head into every room she passed. There was no sign of either dragon – perhaps she’d better wake up Shrike to help her look.

“Quint? Raust?” The kitchens were pitch-black as she passed under the archway – the torch they normally kept burning must have gone out. Frowning, Chime made her way to the shelf where they kept the flint and tinder, fumbling around in the dark until her claws closed around them. There was still some brush in the fireplace from a few nights ago, and she made her way over to it, feeling along the wall. All right. She’d seen Shrike do this enough times, it couldn’t be that hard...

The first time she struck it, nothing happened, but the second yielding a spray of sparks. The brush caught readily, illuminating the space around her – and a dark shape swooping towards her head.

“Ahh!” Chime ducked, and the shape overbalanced, tumbling to the stone floor. She was on it in seconds, pinning it with one hand. The thing struggled and raised its weapon in retaliation, but Chime shifted her weight to dodge the swing. “Drop the frying fan.”

The pan clattered to the floor, and her attacker stared up at her, red eyes very round. “Quint? May I ask what you are doing?”

“I—I thought you were one of them,” the little dragon stammered. “I did not mean to, ah...could you let me up?”

Chime considered the request for a moment, then pulled back her claws, leaning back against the cabinet behind her as she primly adjusted her hat. “I suppose. One of what, exactly?”

“I...you did not hear it? Those scrabbling sounds?”

“You’re out here in the dark chasing rats?” Chime raised an eyebrow, and Quint’s crests waved with an emotion she couldn’t identify. She’d been around Shrike for so long that she’d forgotten just how difficult faes could be to read. Actual faes, that was.

“I got bored,” he muttered eventually, not quite meeting her eyes. “And hungry.”

“In that case, that pan would probably do more good on the stove than in your hand., mon ami.”

She set about making them breakfast, trying not to focus on just how domestic that felt. Cooking had always been more of an art to her than anything else – something to be taken to an ever-more-refined level, like music or sculpture. This felt far too motherly to be within her comfort level – next thing she knew, she’d be arranging playdates and picking out curtains. The thought sent such a shudder through her that she almost dropped her plate of tundra grubs. Quint glanced over in alarm, but she flashed him a quick smile in reassurance. “Food is ready!”

“Thank you.” The little dragon slunk warily over, glancing between her and the plate as if unsure what to do.

“I promise I am not a poisoner. Well, once, but you know how politicians are, hein?”

“Chime?”

She turned to see Raust framed in the kitchen’s archway. His face was hidden in the deep shadows of his cowl, but his voice sounded – if possible – even stiffer than usual. “Could you come out here, please?”

Chime pointed once more to the plate of food and reminded Quint that he needed to eat before following Raust out the door. His warkitten, which had taken to following him everywhere, made a soft brrrrp sound at her approach. It peeked up at her with wide eyes from underneath its ill-fitting helmet. “You have got some growing to do, little one,” she told it, bending down to pet it. “Going to fit that armor some day, oui?”

“You know, I’ve always been curious about warcat armor,” Raust mused. “The literature on it is severely lacking, and—“

“Raust,” Chime interrupted. “Did you call me out here to talk about warcats?”

“Sorry. No,” the skydancer replied, his face dropping with his words. “We’ve got a problem.” Without another word he swept off down the corridor, leaving Chime in a hurry to catch up with him. The two wound their way up the labyrinth of hallways, until Raust had led her to Shrike’s alcove by the armory. “I...she’s gone,” he said shortly, but Chime was barely listening, snaking into the small space, pulling apart the grass nest and sticking her nose into the space’s corners. “I already checked,” Raust was saying behind her. “She’s not here – she’s not anywhere.”

Chime’s claws closed around a piece of paper, which had been somewhat crumpled by her search. She stilled as she scanned it, heart leaping to her throat. Oh, Shrike, what have you done? “You see this?” she asked, passing the note to Raust. He read it over quickly, then once again, as if he didn’t quite believe it the first time. Chime caught the flash of anger in his eyes. “This is....this is idiotic. Irresponsible,” he sputtered, crumpling the note in his fist. “We told her what was at stake. She knows.”

“I don’t know if she quite believed us,” Chime murmured in reply, her mind racing ahead. This could undo everything they’d worked towards. “What a...what a mirror thing to do. Noble cowards. Tous.”

“We have to go after her,” the skydancer hissed. “Now. She can’t have more than an hour or two head start.”

Chime found herself nodding along. Going out on the cold tundra was about the last thing she wanted to do – especially given the bounty hunter risk – but it was imperative that they found Shrike as quickly as possible. “Oui. Oui. You go make preparations – I will go tell that fae where we are going.”

The two of them went their separate ways, Chime hurrying back down to the kitchens. She could feel her coils twisting erratically with anxiety – she didn’t trust the newcomer enough to leave him here alone, but they didn’t really have a choice. As she rounded the hallway’s last corner, she heard a great clatter up ahead, and a yell. “Quint?” she called out, breaking into a run. Was he dismantling their kitchen? She wouldn’t put it past him.

As she skidded into the dimly lit cavern, she was greeted by a strange sight – the glittery little fae was hovering erratically above the counters, frying pan once again in his hand. There was a tear along one side of his sweater, and the reason became immediately apparent as something leapt out of the shadows at him. He squeaked and swung at it wildly, narrowly missing the creature. Chime was already in motion as she processed this, taking to the air and shielding the smaller dragon with her body. She didn’t know what it was, but that wasn’t quite as urgent as where it was...ah!

There was a flash of motion below her, and Chime pounced, catching it with a glancing blow of her claws. The thing fell to the ground, yowling, and she moved to finish it off with another slash. It crumpled to the ground in a heap of red and yellow fur, purple eyes now glassy in its gleaming skull.

Nochnyr.

“You all right?” Chime called out to the fae, pulse beating fast in her ears. Quint nodded, letting the pan fall to the floor with a clatter. “Yeah. I was doing fine, too. I almost had it.” Really, now. Chime was about to comment on that, but the fae held up a hand, his frills frozen in place. “Wait, listen. You hear that?”

It was a faint sound, and not one Chime would have noticed save for the quiet of the kitchen. Scrabbling, like bony legs on rock.

Lots of bony legs. And Chime was willing to bet it wasn’t rats.

There was a ripple of movement at the door, and Chime threw her claws up, ready to defend herself. But it was only Raust, who was moving toward her with a grim expression on his face. The two of them opened their mouth to speak at the same time.

“We’ve got a problem.”

Thanks for the comments everyone, and so sorry to leave you hanging - combination of busyness and writer's block!

And Clementine looks lovely, I'm picky about crackle but it looks amazing on her!! I'm hoping to introduce her son in the next couple chapters, along with some other characters I've been saving...