Wait! squawked Orca.

Loren hesitated and Will pulled them into a huddle, fatigue swallowing the ability to run as the dragon flew high then dived and circled. Smoke escaped its flared nostrils and a fleeting vortex gusted about them. Cat hid between her siblings.

I-I don’t think it’s a dangerous one, whispered Orca.

“You don’t think it’s dangerous?” hissed Loren, clutching at her sister. “I don’t want to wait to find out!”

The dragon wheeled in the air and flew towards them. Opalescent hues danced; blues, pinks, greens, and lilacs played across its underside, and the body of the dragon shone a magnificent kingfisher blue. It hovered then disappeared back up into the stratosphere.

“What sort was that?” asked Will.

“We really don’t want to know!” said Loren, jumping away from the group and ignoring the pain ripping through her shoulder.

“You mean you don’t want to know,” said Will. “The rest of us do!”

That… Orca pointed at the sky. That was a Cobalt Auroral Blue. They’re safe…well, relatively.

“Relative to what?” Scorn dripped from Loren’s lips. “It’s got huge teeth, a barbed tail, and breathes fire and it’s not dangerous?” she mocked. “We’re not Little Red Riding Hood. We’re not going to risk how safe those Cobalt things are compared to Welsh Reds or Shivrins!” She dropped her voice. “‘My, what big teeth you’ve got, all the better to—’”

Will and Cat shared a knowing look and Will spoke pragmatically, cutting his sister off. “We need to get moving then, in case it comes back and isn’t friendly.”

Loren snorted. Pain stabbed her strained calf muscles, and she wasn’t sure she could go much further. She bit her lip, fighting back the heavy tears that threatened to fall. Now they were out of the blustery wind from the top of the mountain, perspiration dripped from her hairline and sweat mixed with blood staining her top. The stale smell and hunger added to her splitting headache and fatigue. Her eyelids closed momentarily as she attempted to muster something akin to drive, then she stretched her limbs and finally rose.

“Okay?” she said, steadying herself. “Let’s go. We can’t be that far from civilisation.”

“You said that ages ago,” groaned Cat, looking at the hill stretching in front of them. “I’m starving too!”

“I mean it. It can’t be far,” she said. “And we’ll find food.”

“…and we’ve got to get you help. You need water,” added Will with a wary glance.

Loren tried again to psych herself up, but her headache, the haze, and the red film of pain and exhaustion that clouded her eyes made her head spin. She bent over and breathed deeply, resting her hands on shaky knees. She took a deep breath, braced, and then pushed on trying to suppress the torment in her legs and her shoulder as she walked forward.

As they reached the brow of the hill, they stared in wonder. In the very far distance were purple mountains and in front of them the huge lagoon spread wider opening into a massive expanse of shimmering water. Clouds hung between the water and the mountains, shrouding the islands. The mystifying sight pulled Cat forward and down the slope.

“Okay, that’s all wrong,” said Loren, shaking her head. “It’s all wrong. Why is everything so wrong?”

It’s not wrong, said Orca. Look past this inlet. In the far distance you can see the ocean, and across from us, the western lands, leading out to Morvryn Point. You can see Merlin’s mountain and Caerfyrddin.

“Caerfyrddin?” Loren repeated.

Merlin’s Fort, said Orca.

Loren sighed wearily and shook her head as if trying to clear fog. “I know Caerfyrddin. Right, we’re in Wales, I know that, on the Black Mountain, and as we’ve been walking all day, Carmarthen, Merlin’s Fort, should be over there—somewhere.” Loren stared. “Where did all the sea come from?”

It’s always been there. Orca looked confused. Where are we going?

“I’m trying to take us home,” said Loren. “Before it gets dark,” she added as she glanced up at the sky. “I told you, this is all wrong. It was morning, then we were here, and in a few hours it’s already getting dark! We’ve lost a whole day coming here.”

Then you’ll need to find a way across the water, because there’s nothing up here. You’re going the wrong way, said Orca, tucking himself beneath Will’s shirt collar.

The slope evened out and not far ahead, as they rounded an outcrop of trees, they came upon a strip of small, stone houses. Loren had expected farmhouses, maybe a village, but this grouping was strange. These were very small, stone-built dwellings, even smaller than old mining cottages from years ago. She frowned as Cat bolted ahead.

“They’re like old roundhouses!” cried Cat in excitement.

“Wait!” called Loren. Cat reluctantly slowed.

Whop! warned Orca. Look!

The dry grass roof of the first house was untidy and falling apart. Grass hung down across the dirty windows and tufts lay strewn around the garden. Loren placed her hand firmly on Cat’s shoulder and moved ahead of her. She approached the door and knocked. “Hello?” she called. With no reply she knocked again, harder. Still nothing, so she pounded with her fists.

The door swung open and she peered inside. The single room was empty. “There’s no one here…” The stifling heat from the room struck her, heightening the sickness swirling within her head. The bed was unmade and the armchair beside it was still dimpled from its inhabitant’s imprint. Eagerly trailed by Cat, Loren slowly explored the room. Clay bowls and iron pans were lukewarm, and everything indicated a fairly hurried exit. A clod of grass fell and landed with a thud and Loren jumped. She glanced up and the reason for the abandoned house quickly became apparent. A large hole in the roof allowed a dim ray of late afternoon sun to shine down into the room. Grass lay scattered and tiny hailstones sat on the table in pools of water like melting glass marbles.

She ran from the house as Will and Orca emerged from another. “Everyone’s gone!” she cried.

“This one’s empty too,” said Will.

Shivrins, said Orca, swaying on Will’s shoulder. Th-That means they, they, they must have come down from the north. That explains it! They were heading to the islands but must have gone off course. I don’t suppose they meant to get caught up with the Reds on the way.

“Shivrins? So we’re still in danger?” Loren stared up at the sky.

Orca shrugged. This is just collateral damage. They didn’t mean to come here.

Tension tightened Loren’s body and she clenched her fists. She stared out across the expanse of water lapping at the bank further down the slope from the clutch of tiny houses. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to collect her emotions, and inhaled as fidgeting butterflies in her belly tried to escape. “I still don’t like it. We should get across the water now, away from the dragons, and find a way home.”

Um, you’re stuck here without a dragon, began Orca with a cough of embarrassment. The boats are gone, and we’ll need a dragon to c-cross the water. That’s if you really want to go west and not east. You can still go east. Orca stiffened and wound his tail behind Will’s neck as he slowly backed up beneath his shirt collar again.

Loren had taken all she could and released her fists and pent-up emotion. “We’re stuck here?” she shouted. “And now we need a dragon, with teeth like a crocodile and flames that will devour us! We need a dragon?! Are you out of your tiny, tiny mind?”

There’s no need to be rude, grunted Orca, muffled at Will’s neck.

Loren let out a strangled cry and stomped down to the water’s edge. Her fingernails bit into her palms as she stared across the calm water. Cat’s voice rose plaintively behind her as the drumbeat of pain heightened in her head.

“But the Shivrins won’t come back?” asked Cat. “I’m so tired. I don’t think I can walk anymore. We might find food in there.” Will grabbed her arm as she moved towards the cottages.

“It’s getting dark,” said Will, “and we can’t travel in the dark, not like this.”

Loren stared at the striking panorama. The sun had faded and was falling behind the hills. A mixture of purples, pinks, oranges, and reds flooded the sky, and a brilliant moon appeared from behind a cloud.

“It’s gorgeous!” said Cat trying to stifle a yawn and the rumble in her belly.

“Gorgeous it might be, but we won’t get home standing here admiring the view.” Loren’s voice cracked, tears brimmed, and she looked up at the moon. Her gasp echoed in the stillness of twilight. “The moon!” she exclaimed. “Look at it!”

“There’s a bit missing.” Will stared at the moon rising over the hilltops. “Like someone took a shot at it, or something hit it. Wow, what hit it?”

Prickles rose across Loren’s skin as they stared at the fractured moon.

That happened centuries ago, millennia long gone. Orca’s statement fell into the silence like a penny dropping on a slate floor.

Loren slumped to the ground as emotion stunned her. “Millennia?” she whispered.

“We’re in the future? The past?” Will’s face paled in the gloaming as much as his sister’s had.

Loren buried her head in her hands, her hair falling around her face. “How do we get out of here?” she breathed. “How did we get here in the first place?”

Will crouched beside her. “It’s okay,” he began. “Listen. We’re losing the light, and we’re all exhausted.” He paused and met Loren’s tearful eyes.

She shook her head and massaged her temples with shaking fingers. She closed her eyes and a cold breeze sent icicles down her spine. Sudden beating wings thudded in the air and Loren thrust her head back searching dusk’s navy sky. She froze as a screech above her reverberated in the hills and her heart almost stopped.

Masses of white dragons filled the sky and Loren leapt to her feet. Her brother and sister stared at her, white-faced, as a barrage of hail fell from the heavens. She scooted Cat forward and dragged Will over the grass. They skidded across the threshold of the closest cottage and threw themselves onto the messy bed. Orca leapt after them and into Cat’s frightened arms as they huddled against the wall.

That’s it! We’re finished! Orca wailed.

“Shut up!” hissed Loren. “We are not finished!”

Shards of ice plunged through the roof, splintering on the dirty floor and spraying them with freezing glitter. Loren clutched her siblings close, shielding them from catapulting fragments. Bullets of hail bounced over the floor, and huge clumps of grass collapsed as the weight of ice brought down what was left of the roof. Shrieks and screams deafened them, and Cat’s fingernails cut into Loren’s arm. Though his voice shook, Will whispered, “It’ll be okay, it’ll be okay,” but Loren wasn’t sure anything would ever be okay again.