MEZ LEADS THEM to the dark hollow of a monguba. It’s not a big tree, but the hollow is wide enough to fit them all, bodies slotted one against the next. It’s soon hot and sweaty inside, but in Rumi’s mind the increased safety is more than worth any discomfort. A warm-blooded animal might have a different opinion, of course. He looks at Gogi inquiringly, but the monkey is busy sizing up Yerlo. Of course—panthers are monkey killers, and though Yerlo almost certainly wouldn’t take a bite out of one of his cousin’s friends, “almost” doesn’t go quite far enough when you’re all pressed together into a tight space.

Without needing to discuss it, Gogi, Sky, and Lima crawl over Mez and Chumba so that the panther sisters are between them and Yerlo.

In the sliver of rainforest that Rumi can see through the opening in the tree’s trunk, the first hints of dawn have started to line the edges of leaves, trunks, and vines. “We have only a few minutes until daycoma,” he says. “Yerlo, you’ll have to fill us in quickly.”

“So sleepy,” he says, yawning. He shakes his head, gives his own tail a nip. “Wake up, wake up, Yerlo. Okay, here goes. Danger, danger, hold on, Mez, you have to come home and rescue Usha and Derli and Jerlo, I—”

With that the Veil lifts, and Yerlo falls into magical slumber, his snores mixing with Chumba’s.

“Feather lice and claw sores!” Sky caws. “Non-shadowwalkers are such a pain.”

Mez’s lips flick from her teeth and back, over and over. Her tail thrashes, smacking Gogi in the head, Sky on the butt, Gogi on the head, Sky on the butt. “Mez,” Gogi says, his words muffled by panther fur, “do you think you could, do you mind—”

“You heard him!” Mez seethes. “Jerlo and Derli and Usha are in trouble. They need rescuing. Usha needs rescuing! Can you imagine that?”

“Sure, sure,” Gogi says. “It sounds serious. In the meantime, do you think you could—?”

Mez’s tail thrashes even harder. “I left them on their own, back when this all started. It’s time to go make things right. I have to go back now—to warn them about the lava, too.”

“But you won’t go without Yerlo and Chumba, of course,” Sky says, doing his best to get his tailfeathers out of the way of Mez’s tail. “So we have to wait until the Veil lifts. Maybe in the meantime, you could—”

“No, I’m going now. Rumi, help me think up some way to transport Yerlo and Chumba.”

“I think I could do that,” Rumi says from his hiding spot under Gogi’s butt. “It would be a sort of litter, with smooth bark on the bottom to cut down on friction. You’d chomp your teeth down on a vine at the front and drag Yerlo and Chumba along. But Mez, while I understand your desire to get home and save the day, it seems to me that, well, in a hierarchy of needs, the fact that this volcano will erupt in three nights and potentially obliterate the entire rainforest—” As Mez bares her teeth, Rumi gets more frantic, waving his suction-cupped fingers in front of him. “—including poor Usha and Jerlo and Derli, wherever they are . . . if we all go off to investigate the panthers, then we’d be losing track of what to do next with the, um, primary task of, um . . . Sky, help me out here.”

Before Sky can interject, Mez growls. “But we don’t have a plan for what to do about the magma. You said that yourself. And Auriel didn’t do anything useful when we were near it.”

“We probably weren’t in the right spot!” Rumi squeaks, looking at Auriel’s blank expression. “And we haven’t even discussed what an evacuation might look like!”

“Fine. We’ll discuss options, then I’ll go save my cousins and aunt,” Mez says.

“That’s not really how discussions are supposed to work,” Rumi grumbles.

Sky caws derisively. “We do have a possible plan. We can join the animals fleeing the volcano, as soon as possible. Maybe the farthest reaches of Caldera will not be destroyed. That is our only option. There is no negotiating with a natural disaster.”

“See?” Rumi says defiantly. “We do have a plan. Sort of have a plan. Almost have a plan.”

“You mean running for our lives?” Mez asks. “Fine. I choose to run for my life in the direction of my homeland.”

“I’d like to investigate the ‘ocean’ we discovered,” Sky says. “When lightning strikes and starts a fire, it’s rain that puts it out. This magma is like liquid fire. We should evacuate as many animals as we can into the ocean. Maybe we could float on a fallen tree? I say we head toward the giant salty puddle.”

“See, even more of a plan,” Rumi says. “And does anyone want to go back down there and see if we can wash out the billions of ants that are trying to expose the magma?”

“I nominate Gogi,” Lima says.

“I nominate that no one goes down and burns themselves up,” Gogi says with uncharacteristic sharpness.

Lima coughs. “Yes, that does seem like a dead end. So to speak.”

“I’m going home,” Mez says flatly.

“I spent a year with the panthers,” Lima says. “If Usha is in trouble, that’s a serious thing. And if the source of the problem is this Elemental of Darkness, it really doesn’t sound good. Like, at all.”

“The panther territory is deep in the interior, unfortunately,” Sky says. “Nowhere near the shore.”

Mez’s low growl intensifies. “I know I’m not being reasonable about this, but it’s not a reasonable thing. My family is in danger. I’m going to help them. Now. Rumi, will you help me figure out how to rig a litter?”

Gogi coughs. “Might I suggest something? We don’t all have to be in one place. Perhaps those best suited to each task could go do that one, and we’ll reconvene once they’re accomplished.”

“Good thinking!” Rumi says.

“Thanks, buddy. I thought so too.”

“If we do that, I’m going with Mez,” Lima says. “I’m an honorary panther, and I’m worried about my new family. She and Chumba and Yerlo are the ones most likely to get into a fight, anyway. They’ll need my healing.” She looks at Mez. “No offense.”

Mez extracts a long claw and smiles. “None taken.”

“Rumi and I are the ones most likely to be able to engineer a craft to travel on this ocean we discovered,” Sky says. “And I can give Mez my directive to communicate with me from afar, so we can tell her and Lima where exactly to meet us in the escape vessel.”

“My water power seems . . . useful for the escape plan,” Banu says.

“And I should go with Mez, to help fight,” Gogi says.

“Actually, Gogi,” Rumi says, “we have no one with offensive magic, and we might need you. I also think we’ll need to temper the wood we use to build any craft that can be watertight on the ocean, and repeated exposure to fire and water is probably our best way to accomplish that. If you’re willing, I’d like you to stay with us.”

Mez nods. “We can spare Gogi.”

“Don’t take too long to think about it first, or anything,” Gogi grumbles.

“Reluctantly,” Mez adds. “We can reluctantly spare Gogi.”

“That’s a little better,” Gogi sniffs. “And Auriel? What do we do about our mysterious rapidly growing friend?”

They all pause to take in the length of glowing yellow snake. “Hmm,” Rumi says.

“He stays with the boys,” Mez says, a disdainful look on her face.

“Aww, he’s such a pretty accessory, though,” Lima says.

“That’s final,” Mez says.

Lima gives Auriel a squeeze. “I’ll miss you!”

Auriel licks the air in response.

“I bet that’s how snakes say, ‘I’ll miss you too,’” Lima says.

Gogi gives her a big hug. “I don’t know how I feel about Auriel, but I’ll miss you tons.”

“Well, who wouldn’t miss a superhero healing bat?” Lima says bashfully.

Rumi hops out of the monguba hollow. “Now. Let’s rig Mez a traveling litter.”

Rumi directs Gogi as he uses his agile fingers and toes to tie a liana vine around the edge of a stretch of thick bark, then to use more liana to lash the snoring forms of Chumba and Yerlo to the litter. Mez begins straining against the vine, pulling the contraption forward. Lima adds her own weight, beating her wings furiously to help, but she’s soon exhausted, and rests on Mez’s shoulder instead. “Go, Mez, you can do it!” she cheers.

Mez does impressively well, pushing twice her own weight against the straining liana before releasing the vine to address the rest of the companions. “It’ll be slow going, but I’ll get a head start during the day, and then maybe Yerlo and Chumba can drag me for a few hours while I rest after the Veil drops.”

Sky turns around and offers his backside in Mez’s direction. “You know what to do.”

“I’ll do the honors,” Gogi says. He gets his fingers around one of Sky’s crimson feathers, then yanks. Sky caws as the feather comes loose, and Gogi tumbles head over heels. He rigs the feather so it’s pinned between the liana vine and the bark of the litter.

“You know how it works by now,” Sky tells her. “When you need to communicate with me, hold the directive, and then think of this precise location where it was removed.”

“I’ll make an echomap,” Lima says. “That’s the best way.”

“Very good. We will use the feather to follow you on your journey, Mez.” Sky caws proudly. “My magic has improved so much that all the senses will be involved now, not just vision. I’m working on being able to send you messages through the directive. Stay open to it—you might have me unexpectedly in your mind.”

“Lovely,” Mez says.

“It is lovely!” Rumi protests. “Sharing synapses, how marvelous.”

“Well, we’re off,” Mez says. “I’m sure Chumba and Yerlo would say good-bye if they could.”

“Travel safely,” Gogi says. The companions take turns giving Mez hugs. Even Sky joins, wrapping his wings awkwardly around Mez for a moment before hurriedly releasing her. Banu gives her a hug, then he sighs and appears to fall asleep, his curved claws wrapped neatly around Mez’s ribs.

“Um, Banu, excuse me,” Mez says, gently removing the sloth’s claws. The moment she’s got one up, Banu returns another one to her.

“Oh . . . sorry,” he says sleepily as he releases himself to the ground. “You’d make . . . a good branch.”

“Great, thanks. Good-bye, everyone!”

“Yep, bye, guys!” Lima adds.

Mez takes up the litter, and with a few ferocious pushes, she and Lima are gone from view.

“Well, gentlemen,” Gogi says, hands on his furry hips. “Looks like it’s just us boys now.”

“To the ocean!” Rumi says. “Wait until you see it in person, Gogi. It’s a fascinating place.”

“I tend to like drier places more than wetter ones, but I’m willing to suspend judgment until we get there.”

Without Chumba, the companions are able to travel on both sides of the Veil. Which is good, since Rumi is reminded all over again that Banu is, um, slow. Rumi knows he would be just as slow—frog legs are made for quick hops to catch prey or avoid death, not for journeying through the rainforest—but of course he can ride on his companions whenever he needs to, which Banu is too big to manage. They tried briefly to see what would happen if Banu rode on Gogi’s back. Banu enjoyed it. Gogi, not as much.

During their frequent breaks Gogi experiments with new fire tricks, while Auriel finds the nearest patch of sunlight and soaks it in. In those quieter moments, he seems to grow right in front of Rumi’s eyes. When they start a break, Rumi memorizes precisely where Auriel’s head is, remembering that it’s right alongside the brownish curling piece of grass or what have you, and when they’re ready to move on from their rest, it will be two more blades of grass over.

When he’s not gauging Auriel’s development, Rumi is deep in deliberations with Sky. While he and Sky strategize, Rumi will lie on top of Sky’s claws, and it feels like he’s finally found a true friend, one who gets and accepts him in all ways.

“So, Rumi,” Sky says, “I was scouting out pathways to the ocean, and the most direct one takes us right through a large swamp, devastated a couple of years ago but regrowing. Some of the saplings that emerged from the fallen giants are quite high now.”

“How interesting,” Rumi says. “We’ll go through that swamp. Gogi doesn’t mind them as much anymore.”

“Yes, well, hrm, this precise swamp . . .”

“Yes?” Rumi asks brightly.

“It’s . . . well, it’s your old swamp, Rumi.”

“Oh,” Rumi says, gulping. “I see.”

“I could find another route,” Sky offers, “but anything I picked would make our journey longer.”

“No,” Rumi says flatly, “we’ll go through my old swamp.”

“Are you sure?”

“One hundred percent. Moving on. Let’s talk about the ark.”

It’s storming up above, but the canopy siphons away most all of the falling water. Sky leans over a puddle, the surface vibrating and rippling whenever a droplet hits it. He picks up a stick with his beak and drops it onto the surface. “Wood floats, clearly,” Sky says. “We all know that. But we don’t need a craft just to float. We need it to hold as many land animals as possible.”

“That’s just about all of us,” Rumi says. “I remember what that salty water felt like on my skin when we were near it before. I couldn’t swim in the ocean for long.”

“Right,” Sky says. “So that’s why we need to build something that will not only float, but can house animals in dry quarters for what might be a very long time.”

“Not just housing. We’ll need to pack food for the herbivores . . .” Rumi’s voice trails off, as he realizes the implications of what he was about to say next.

“Maybe we institute a no-hunting rule for the carnivores onboard?” Sky says.

Rumi shudders. “But they can’t starve, either. Meat eaters make everything so complicated.”

“Maybe we could persuade them how good leaves and insects taste,” Sky says.

“You try convincing Mez,” Rumi says. “I’d like to see how that goes over.”

Sky uses his beak to drop two more sticks next to the first. “If we could attach tree trunks together, we could make a raft.”

Rumi shakes his head. “Did you see the waves out on the ocean? I think everyone would get knocked off. We need something that could contain us inside it.”

Sky cocks his head. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Grateful for the distraction from the thought of facing his home swamp, and his reduced wind power, Rumi takes some grasses in his fingers and weaves them together with pliable twigs. It makes a crude sphere. “Something like this!”

Sky lets out an admiring caw. “We’d have to weave the grasses tight enough so no water got in.”

“I think I could manage that,” Gogi says, looking over from where he was braiding fire in the air. Rumi hadn’t realized he was listening.

Rumi nods. “You do have agile fingers, Gogi. I’m thinking we could line the inside with marsh grasses, which would provide a water-impermeable layer, and then we’d slather mud inside those. The bits of mud that were on the exterior might stay moist, but then the inside mud layer should dry, so we could rest against it.”

Sky’s beak clacks excitedly. “We would need to use a variety of woods and grasses. The smaller liana vines will be plentiful, but what kind of wood can withstand so much dousing and drying and more dousing?”

“I . . . might be able to help . . .” Banu says. Rumi startles—he was sure the sloth was asleep. Apparently all his friends are more interested in the deliberations than they let on. “The adult mangrove . . . tree . . . is very bendy. . . . I learned that the hard way . . . when I once . . . chose the wrong place to nap.”

“I know just where we’ll pass by mangroves,” Rumi says darkly.

Sky lays a comforting wing over his friend’s back. “We should find them along the waterways that lead to the ocean,” he says. “Harder will be the straight pieces we’ll use for the main structure. I’m thinking that ironwood would be best, but that won’t be near where the mangroves are.”

“Ironwood is very heavy,” Gogi says, “and we don’t have any muscular panther sisters with us now.”

“We can . . . use them,” Banu says. He nods his head in a certain direction. It takes Rumi a few seconds to figure out which direction that is, because, well, sloth nods are quite slow. When he does see what Banu is referring to, though, he hops right into the air.

The daywalker groupies.

“Oh, wow,” Gogi says, getting to his feet. “They keep creeping right up on us, don’t they?”

The friends work their way through the jungle greenery until they can see better. While they do, Gogi plucks Rumi up from the ground and brings him to his mouth, so he can whisper in the frog’s ear. “I saw how you reacted when the mangroves came up.”

“You noticed that?” Rumi cheeps in surprise.

“Of course I did. Noticing feelings is my thing. Have out with whatever you have to tell us. It will feel better after, I promise.”

Rumi nods. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

A tapir perks up as the shadowwalkers approach. “Hello there. I hope you don’t mind that we eavesdropped. We didn’t want to interrupt.”

They’re sitting in a polite semicircle, a hodgepodge of animals, three tapirs in the center and an assortment of rats and lizards and songbirds around them. Not the most majestic assortment, but their expressions are full of hope and cheer.

“That’s a candle of tapirs,” Rumi says. “I’ve been waiting to have a chance to use that word.”

“Hello there,” Gogi says. “I am Gogi, Monkey of Fire.”

“That’s nice,” says the tapir.

A songbird chirps at her. “Do you see him?”

“I’m right here,” Gogi says, running a hand through his hair.

“Not you. Him. The Elemental of Light.”

Gogi thumbs in Auriel’s direction. “Oh, you mean that guy?”

“It’s truly he,” the tapir says. “The legends are true!”

Gogi rolls his eyes.

As the glowing snake basks in the sun, the daywalker pilgrims approach. They sit in a circle around him, watching his every movement, oohing and aahing if Auriel so much as wriggles his tail.

“Hey,” Gogi calls over to them. “We’ll let you spend time basking in his glow, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?” the tapir asks. “We’ll do anything!”

“Okay. How much can you tapirs carry? And have you ever been to the beach?”