Willow and Fynn trudged through the forest towards the open meadow. Midway there they both began to shiver.
“The sky’s getting dark,” said Fynn. “I hope we’re not in for a storm.”
Summers in Ur could bring brutal storms. The sky was growing dark pink and Willow was certain they were in for one of those powerful storms.
The wind picked up and the tops of the tall trees began to sway.
“We’d best find shelter soon,” said Willow.
“There’s a meadow about an hour’s walk from here. I took Flame there when he was a baby dragon to play and eat of the purple dendrons. I’m certain he remembers the place and perhaps he’s gone off there. But the Skyriders also feed in the meadow. We must be very careful. I’ve seen the Skyriders do terrible things to innocent people, Fynn. I’m sure you’ve seen it, too.”
“If you can make the journey there, we can ride Flame home,” said Willow.
“I can make it, Willow,” said Fynn. “I must make it.”
“Aweee, aweee!” Willow shouted Flame’s command to come. The sky above was empty except for a few stray birds flapping about. At least the Queen’s spies are gone, thought Willow, but where on Ur could Flame be?
“We’ll find it one day, I promise,” said Willow. “But now we must find Flame.”
“Such a place does exist, Fynn. I heard it from my mother’s mouth and my mother did not lie.”
“Listen to me Fynn,” said Willow. “I’ve heard…stories…of an enchanted land filled with flowers and fairies and unicorns.”
“Fairy tales?” said Fynn.
“No, Fynn. True tales.”
Fynn looked down at his lash scars. “If such a place exists, Willow, I should hope to find it one day.”
Willow stared into Fynn’s haunted green eyes. How she wished she could infuse them with a glimmer of hope-a glimpse into the tranquil world her mother had spoken of fondly.