Page 85 of Dragon Gods

Hands grasped at her and she shifted, trying to move away.

“No,” she muttered.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” The voice was soft and gentle, and even as she felt her body being picked up, her mind broke once more as she slipped back into blackness.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-ONE

FOX

Another scream echoed through the trees.

Sofia was moving before Fox had even stood, not bothering to grab her bag. He scrambled up, his long strides catching up to her easily. He pulled her back.

“Take your bag and get your bow and arrows ready,” he said, roughly shoving her supplies in her hands. She nodded, half listening, but her eyes were set on the horizon toward the cenote where the screams were coming from.

“Sofia,” he said, voice firmer, “look at me. We don’t know what’s happening; we need to be careful.”

This time, she made eye contact with him and nodded. Her eyes were wide with fear, but the furrow of her brows and the pinch of her lips spoke of determination. A second later, a cold metal was pressed into his hand and he looked down to see her handing him a large dagger.

“This will do more good than that rusty cooking blade,” she said.

He took it without question and then they set off at a run. He bounded over roots, doing his best to not roll his ankles on the soft soil in between. Yet, he moved smoother than he had even a few days before. It was nothing compared to Sofia, who despite her shorter legs sprang through the trees like a deer, drawing ahead of him in small increments as they moved.

The sounds didn’t seem to grow any louder as they approached, the echoes bouncing through the trees and disorienting him as they ran. If Sofia wasn’t moving so assuredly, he might doubt they were going in the right direction. The time also gave his mind the space to process the fact that he was running through the rainforest toward what sounded like a battle. Not only that, but he was running to save a group of Dragonborn and shapeshifters. Who had he become?

They hadn’t gone far, when the screams started to wane before going silent. He expected Sofia to run faster, but something in the silence had her stumbling to a stop. A sound ripped from her throat that made Fox’s blood run cold and he lurched forward as she fell to her knees.

He came to rest in the dirt beside her, wrapping his arms around her body and pulling her tightly against him. Her skin was cold against his own. He didn’t know where the instinct had come from. The only person who’d ever held him was his mother and he’d made sure she’d stopped that cycles ago.

“Breathe,” he said. He felt the wheeze deep in her chest—lungs pushed too far, too fast.

Before he could say more, the earth underneath them shuddered and a sharp wind blew through the trees, sending leaves and branches tumbling. He ducked, covering Sofia with his body as the sounds of flapping wings thundered above. He looked up in time to see the glint of white scales through the trees, set against the cerulean sky. If he hadn’t seen a dragon a few nights before, he might have thought it a strange cloud.

“How?” Her voice cracked.

Sofia stared up at the same small patch of sky, now blue and clear.

“We should keep moving,” he said, helping her stand. “They might need help.” Even he knew the words were likely meaningless.

She trembled beneath his hand. He was tempted to take back his words, pull her back into him and hold her until the tremors stopped and her skin was warm again. But she pulled away, her shoulders going stiff. Her face went from wracked with anguish to blank in the blink of an eye, lips set in a grim line.

“Come on,” she said, moving before he could register the change that had come over her.

He followed, their progress slower now that the silence ahead of them seemed to swallow up any sense of urgency. They made it to the camp fifteen minutes later, the time feeling like both an instant and an indescribable length of time.

It was clear what they would find before they came to the edge of the cenote, black smoke rising like ribbons from below and a silence louder than Fox felt possible. Despite the knowing that settled between them, Sofia ran into the indentation of the earth, calling out as she weaved through the rubble. He followed behind her, his own steps careful as he scanned the ground. There were small fires burning across the entire cenote, and he gagged when he saw the limb peeking out from one.

Once he’d seen the first hand, it was easy to see the others. Some small and some larger, the fire eating away the families that had only just lived here.

He heard Sofia’s yells echoing through the halls and caves farther in the cenote. Silence the only answer.

“No one’s here,” Sofia said, coming toward him eyes wild. “Maybe they ran.”

His jaw tightened and he shook his head slowly. “I don’t think they escaped.” He let his eyes settle on the fire closest to them, a dark arm visible between the flames, a delicate iron chain along its wrist.

“Tía Muela,” Sofia said. He waited for her to collapse again, ready to catch her if her knees went weak.

“Who did this?” Her question was cold fury.

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