Prologue

ORCHID RISINGTREE REACHED FOR the next paw hold, pulling herself up the slick slope by her claws. The rain soaked into her thick fur, right down to the skin, and she longed to shake herself, but she couldn’t. If she lost her grip . . .

“Orchid!” Root growled. “Look out!”

She glanced up just in time. A clump of bamboo, broken loose by the relentless torrent, came crashing down the side of the mountain toward her, its thick stems whipping dangerously around. Orchid roared and threw herself aside. The bamboo seemed to roar back as it sliced through the air close to her ear. She started to slide again, but managed to catch herself on a more firmly rooted tree trunk and look down. As the bamboo tumbled down the mountainside, it passed dangerously close to Root, but he was already altering his path so that it would miss him. She watched as it bounced off the cliff edge, splashed down into the swollen river, and was immediately dragged under by the terrible current.

Orchid paused for a moment, clinging to the tree trunk, catching her breath as her mate climbed toward her, mud and leaves clumped in his black-and-white fur. Sheets of rain battered the back of her head. The whole Bamboo Kingdom seemed to be on the run from the flooding river, the streaming mud where once had been soft moss and comfortable rocks to lie on in the afternoon sun, a scattering of creatures trying to escape the rising waters. She saw a red panda a little way off, its bushy tail thick with mud, panicking as it struggled to climb one of the trees. She longed to help it, but there was nothing she could do.

She had to protect her cubs.

“We can’t go much farther,” she huffed as Root reached her. “The cubs will be here soon; I can feel it.”

“We’ll find somewhere safe,” Root said. “Look, there’s a rock ledge up there. That won’t be washed away. Just a little farther.”

Orchid nodded grimly and turned to press on, pushing with her powerful back legs to reach the next paw hold on the slippery path. She just hoped he was right. Nothing was certain anymore. Perhaps the whole Bamboo Kingdom would be washed away.

But there was nothing to do except keep on climbing, so Orchid climbed, paw by paw, up the ruined mountainside. She kept her gaze fixed on the rock ledge. They were so close, she could imagine the feel of solid ground beneath her. Perhaps there would be shelter, just a solid tree or a small overhang where she could bring her cubs into the world without fearing they would be washed away. . . .

“Hey!” an unfamiliar voice shrieked from high above Orchid’s head. She looked up, gasping as the rain blinded her for a moment. “Look, pandas!” Orchid blinked away the water and saw, clinging to the wavering branches of the trees, a cluster of bedraggled shapes with long tails. Golden monkeys, about ten of them—perhaps all that was left of their troop. They were peering down at Orchid and Root, their strange blue faces contorted in anger around their snub noses, lips peeled back to bare their sharp teeth.

“This is your fault!” one screamed over the sound of the rain, pointing a long finger down at the pandas. “You were supposed to warn us!”

“We didn’t know!” Orchid shouted back.

“Where’s your Dragon Speaker?” demanded another monkey. Orchid tensed as they started to climb down the trunks of the trees, slowly at first but then faster, leaping from trunk to trunk as if they were so angry they no longer cared if they slipped and fell. “Why didn’t he tell us what was going to happen?”

“It’s not Sunset’s fault,” Root growled, slowly shifting his position in the mud, stepping between the advancing monkeys and Orchid. “The Great Dragon didn’t say anything about this.”

But that’s a lie, Orchid thought desperately. Or, at least, we don’t know it’s the truth.

Where is Sunset Deepwood?

“Tenderfoot is dead,” one of the monkeys wailed. She had reached the ground and now stood there, tail whipping behind her. “Fleetheart is dead. So many dead . . .”

“And it’s all because the pandas let it happen,” growled another monkey. “They did this to us. From now on, we listen to no panda! Get them!”

“Run!” Root barked, as the monkeys splashed through the mud toward them. Orchid turned and fixed her gaze back on the rock shelf. If she could make it there, if she had somewhere to plant her paws, then let the monkeys come—she could snap them between her teeth, if only she could keep her grip.

She looked back, and a wave of horror washed over her as she saw that Root was not following her.

“Root, no!” she barked. But Root faced the monkeys down, snarling as they leaped. He got the tail of one between his teeth and tossed it several bear-lengths away with a hard shake of his head. But as soon as he had, more monkeys piled onto his back, getting their grabbing hands into his fur, his ears, biting and scratching. Orchid prepared to run back to him, but then Root’s paws slipped. The moment stretched out for what seemed like forever: Root still twisting in the mud even as he fell, trying to free himself from the monkeys’ grasp.

The troop sprang away from him as he tumbled, but Root couldn’t stop himself. He hit the cliff edge, just like the bamboo had. The impact was sickening, even from so far away. Root rolled and toppled and fell into the floodwater. For a moment a flash of black and white bobbed on the surface, and then he was gone.

Orchid let out a roar of grief, but the crashing of the rain all around her swallowed the sound.

She almost hoped that the monkeys would turn on her, that she would be able to take a few of them down before she fell too—but the monkeys had gone quiet, gathering back in the high branches. Before she knew it, they were gone, and she was left there all alone.

Not alone.

Was it Root’s voice that broke through her shock, or her own, or something else? Wherever it came from, it was right. Orchid would only be alone if she didn’t save her cubs. She had to reach that ledge.

The climb was hard, but she couldn’t stop moving. Root needed her to make it. Her cubs needed her.

When her claws finally found solid rock and she pulled herself up onto the jagged path at the top of the ledge, her legs were shaking so hard she almost collapsed right there. But just ahead she saw something that made her heart sing with painful relief. There was a cave. It looked deep and solid, set into the heart of the mountain peak. New energy rose in her muscles, and she hurried to sniff the entrance. It wasn’t dry—nothing in the Bamboo Kingdom was dry now; maybe it never would be again—but it was sheltered from the lashing rain. It would be warmer. It would be safe.

She hurried inside, going as deep as she could before it was too dim to see. The worn stone under her paws felt calming. This would be a place for the cubs to be born.

But . . .

Deep inside the cave, there was a scent. Something that made Orchid’s skin crawl. Blood and torn flesh.

This was the lair of a predator.

The light in the cave dimmed even more, and Orchid spun around. Something had passed in front of the entrance. Something bigger than a panda. Its silhouette almost blotted out the faint gray light of the sky outside.

Orchid crouched, baring her teeth. She would protect her cubs, no matter what this creature was—and as her eyes adjusted, she realized it was something she had never seen before. Huge, with giant paws and a long tail, but not round like a bear or thick-furred like a leopard. It was sleek. Two enormous green eyes gleamed in a face of black and orange stripes.

The beast stepped into the cave.