Firewing by Kenneth Oppel Page A

… fly out over that terrifying desert. Oh yeah, that’s great,
very
promising. But it can’t go on forever, can it? And maybe I’d meet someone who could help me. Someone friendlier than the bats here—wouldn’t be hard. But what kind of crazies would live out there in that desert, anyway?”
    He rustled his wings anxiously, gripping and regripping the branch. He wasn’t good at this. Every time he thought of a plan, he just kept coming up with all the drawbacks. And look what happened with his last plan, anyway. Steal some fire—what a great idea! And now Luna was down here and it was all his fault. Guiltily he thought of her confused, startled look as he’d leapt away from her in terror, wings churning to escape. Leaving her behind.
    What would your father do?
    His father? Oh, well, if his father were here, he’d do something amazing like blast a hole in the sky, or bring all the bats back to life and deliver them into the sunlight. Give him a couple of hours and Shade could probably solve everyone’s problems. Then there would be a big celebration, and they’d have to sing his praises to the echo chamber again, and the echo chamber would be so full it would blow up and blast little bits of Shade’s heroics all over the northern forests so every living thing could hear them!
    Griffin’s heart raced with anger. Then, as his pulse slowed, he felt his energy and hope leave him like an exhalation. How he wished his father were here. He squeezed shut his eyes.
    Do something
, he told himself.
    Go find Luna.
    The thought surged into his head, and he wasn’t quite sure why. He was terrified of seeing her again. Nothing he could do would help her. And what was he supposed to say? “Oh, by the way, you’re dead. Just thought I’d let you know.” But she was his best friend, whether she knew it or not, and he needed her right now. Maybe she would help him. Maybe she could make a plan.
    He set off at once, hoping he could remember the place where he’d met her. This was good; this was doing something. He was aware of the Oasis bats flapping clear as he approached.
Just me, the fabulous glowing bat!
Despite himself, he smiled.
    When he saw the stream, he felt even more cheered up. He swallowed in anticipation, mouth parched. The surface sparkled in the starlight—if you could still call it starlight. He was too thirsty to be cautious now, so he strafed the stream, mouth open to catch the water—
    And veered up, coughing violently at the gritty swirl that poured down his throat. Not water at all, just a kind of dusty nothing disguised as water. Like the bugs, the water wasn’t even there. “Gah!” he exclaimed angrily. “I
hate
this place!”
    A new worry pounced into his head now. He remembered his mother telling him once that you could survive longer without food than water. So how long would he last? “Join us! Join us! Come with us to the Tree!”
    Griffin peered up through the branches and saw a tight group of bats streak past, maybe three dozen, all different species, flying low over the forest. “Join us!” the lead bat called out again.
    Griffin flew after them, keeping just below the treeline for cover.
    “Pilgrims …” he could hear some of the Oasis bats muttering around him, “the Pilgrims are back….”
    Griffin saw that the leader was a Silverwing female, and an old one at that. Her fur was mostly grey, and sparse in places, showing patches of wrinkled skin. Her whole body conveyed age and weariness. As she flew, her shoulders were hunched, her long fingers disfigured by swollen joints, her wings saggy and blistered. Her gnarled thumb claws looked ancient, like turned-up roots. Nonetheless, she was an arresting figure, and her still-strong voice commanded attention. Griffin couldn’t help but feel hopeful at the sight of her, but then again, he’d been disappointed by the last Silverwing female he’d thought was an elder.
    “You must not remain here!” the lead Pilgrim called out.