“Oi! Stowaways!”

Nox startled awake, disoriented. The floor was rolling—no, the ship, he remembered. They were on a ship to the south, following his mother’s final wish.

He groaned and sat up, peering at the Albatross clanner looming over him, hands on hips.

“Up with you, lout!” the man growled. “All of you!”

Ellie, Gussie, and Twig hauled themselves up, chagrined. They’d gotten lax about splitting watch duty, as they’d learned the sailors’ schedules and found they never entered the cargo hold after dark.

But tonight must have been different.

“We’re up, we’re up,” Ellie said.

“Up on deck,” ordered the sailor, roughly shoving Twig toward the stairs. “You’ll be lucky if the captain doesn’t tie your wings and send you to the sharks!”

Nox glanced at Ellie, who caught his look and returned it with a small nod. As the sailor began walking, Ellie stuck out her lockstave and tripped the man. He fell with a shout, and at once the four of them lifted up and away, slinging packs over their shoulders and flying through the cargo hold to the door.

“Oi!” The sailor cursed as he stumbled up, but Twig had tossed a coiled rope over him, and his legs were tangled. “Stop!”

They raced up the steps, burst onto the deck, and took to the sky. The other sailors began shouting but were too late to stop them. The foursome rose through the billows of the sails and shot into open air, carried aloft by a strong sea wind. It was predawn, the horizon barely red.

“Land!” Gussie said, pointing.

That must have been why the sailor had been in the hold. They were nearing harbor, making preparations to dock.

A few sailors took off after them, shouting angrily, but didn’t give chase for long.

The day was young, the air warm. Nox glimpsed a scattering of white clouds on the far horizon, but otherwise the sky was clear. His wings stretched wide, working out the stiffness of three weeks of disuse. He rued his clipped flight feathers, struggling to balance.

They flew toward the strip of land on the horizon, with the wind swelling under their wings. Twig whooped and began windhopping, shutting his wings and falling from one breeze to another.

At least one of them was glad about their current course.

They landed at last on a shore of white sand, where gentle waves rolled and broke. At the top of the beach, a tall forest rose in a tangle of glossy, broad leaves, palm fronds, and ropy vines. The plants all looked strange to Nox.

“The jungle,” said Twig, wide-eyed. “Do you see any elephants?”

Ellie laughed. “Not yet. But we’ll keep watch.”

“Fascinating,” said Gussie, picking up a hard green fruit. “Coconut, I think.”

“Well,” said Ellie, scanning the trees. “Now we just have to find Khadreen, and your family, Nox.”

She gave him a hopeful smile, but he only nodded once and looked away, his stomach turning with a mixture of irritation and nervousness.

It was strange, the idea of there being other Corvains out there. His father had never spoken much of his family, and Nox didn’t know what to expect if he did find them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. What would they think of him—a thief, a fugitive, a freak, who’d let his mother die in prison, who’d stood uselessly by as his father was executed? Why would they want anything to do with him at all?

Ellie would never understand his worries. She naturally expected the best out of everyone. And if anything went wrong, they could just launch some wild plan to make it all right.

Nox knew now that no matter how hard they tried, some people were born to shatter everything they touched.

The image flashed in his mind: his mother lying broken in her cell while he ran to save his own skin.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed it away.

After taking time to rest their wings, they took off again, this time to fly along the coast. They glided on the shore winds, in search of anything that might point them toward Khadreen.

Even the air in the south felt different, warm and heavy. It smelled sweetly of jungle flowers and salt. The water was so clear that even from the air, Nox could see schools of bright fish darting in the shallows, chased by lithe gray sharks. Farther out, where the water darkened, dolphins leaped and raced, to Twig’s overflowing delight. He kept wandering off to explore, catching up only when they were nearly out of sight.

After an hour of searching without finding anything of interest, they landed on the beach to catch their breaths.

“Three weeks of no flying,” panted Ellie, leaning on a palm tree, “really throws you out of shape, doesn’t it?”

Gussie sprawled on the sand and groaned, but Twig was still out at sea, swooping over the waves to peer at the fish below. Breathing hard, Nox waded into the shallow water and reached down to cup his hands, eager to splash away the sweat on his face.

But just as he reached down, something zinged past his ear.

With a shout, he stumbled back, blinking in confusion at the spear that had sprouted out of the water.

“What the—” Whirling, he looked all around until he spotted her: a slim girl about his own age, standing high above on a leaning palm. She wore a knee-length dress with a tasseled skirt and brightly patterned wraps, her feet shod in scrappy leather sandals with flowers painted on them. Her skin was as brown as the coconuts dangling from the palm, and her black hair swung in dozens of tight braids plaited with ribbons and fresh flowers.

Ellie and Gussie spotted her a moment after, and all three of them gathered quickly, Ellie with her lockstave at the ready, Nox with his slingshot.

“She tried to spear me!” Nox said. “You saw it!”

“Actually,” said the girl brightly, “I saved your life.”

She jumped down from the tree, spreading the most colorful wings Nox had ever seen. The undersides were brilliant yellow while the top feathers were a shocking clash of scarlet, gold, and cerulean.

The girl swooped over the water and plucked her spear up, then landed in front of them. Impaled on her spear was a wriggling fish with a bulbous, ugly body.

“Stonefish,” she said, twirling the spear and the fish stuck on it. “If you’d taken one more step, you’d have cut your foot on his spines, y’know. His venom would’ve killed you in minutes. Painfully.”

Queasily, Nox glanced at the placid clear waters with new respect.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“Who are you?” asked Ellie.

The girl suddenly frowned, her eyes narrowing. She lowered the spear, squirming stonefish and all, toward them. “Depends. How do I know you’re not pirates, here to plunder my village and steal our jewels?”

“Um.” Ellie shrugged. “Because we’re … not?”

The girl eyed her a moment, then broke into a wide grin and raised her spear again. “Works for me! And lucky for you because we haven’t got any jewels anyway. Though it would be exciting to be attacked by pirates, don’t you think? I’ve been practicing with my spear. I’m sure I could take out at least twenty of them all on my own. I mean, did you see that throw?” She twirled the speared fish. “Right through the eye! Okay, maybe I got a little lucky, actually. I’m not usually on target on the first try. I guess that means you got lucky too.” She laughed at Nox’s look of horror, then paused. “Wait. What were we talking about? Oh yeah! Who are you people?”

At that moment, Twig landed on the sand between Nox and the girl, breathless and bright-eyed from chasing dolphins.

The girl gasped. “Whoa! Nice wings.”

Twig stiffened. Nox knew he was sensitive about his bicolored wings, which he’d been relentlessly bullied for all his life. But then he remembered Twig once telling him how in the south, bicolored wings weren’t considered bad luck, but good. After his initial shock, Twig’s pale cheeks flushed red and he grinned shyly.

“Thanks. I’m Twig. That’s Nox, Ellie, and Gussie, and that … is just cruel.” His eyes fell on the speared fish. “Poor thing. He’s hurting. You should at least put him out of his pain.”

“Oh my skies, you’re right! Sorry. My granna says once I start talking, I stop thinking. She’s right, y’know. One time I was cutting plantains and chatting with Gade—he’s the son of the Quetzal clan chief, soooo handsome—anyway, and I didn’t even realize I was cutting through the actual table until—oh!” Her eyes went round. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Wait, what was I gonna do before I started talking?”

Wordlessly, Twig pointed at the fish.

“Oh! Right!” She waded into the water and laid the fish on a rock, then finished it off with a swipe of a small dagger she took from her belt. “That’s dinner, then! Yum. Stonefish stew is the best, unless you cook it wrong and then, y’know, it’ll kill you. Do you guys want to come over for dinner?”

“Uh …” Gussie lifted a finger. “You’re Macaw clan, aren’t you?”

The girl cleaned her blade and sheathed it. “Yep! I’m Tariel. My village is around the bend there. It’s called Brightbay. It’s the Quetzal clan seat, y’know. Have I told you about Gade? Oh, wait, I did. Anyway, you can meet him when you come for dinner. We’re pledged to be married one day, only he doesn’t know it yet.” She flitted into the air, twirling her spear. “This way! C’mon! Granna will want to start cooking right away when she hears there are guests. Stonefish stew takes forever, on account of having to remove the venom and all, but it’s worth it! I mean, unless you cook it wrong. Then, well … y’know.” She put a hand around her throat and mimed choking to death.

With that, she swooped away, darting up the beach on her rainbow wings.

“And I thought Ellie talked too much,” groaned Gussie, earning a sour look from the Sparrow.

“We’re … going for dinner, then?” Twig looked flabbergasted.

Nox shrugged. “Guess so.”

Brightbay turned out to be a sprawling town of wooden houses with thatched roofs, shaded by tall, tranquil palms. Shrubs exploded with vibrant blossoms in pink and orange, and vines with purple flowers crept up the walls and spied through cloth-covered windows. Between the trees were strung ropes, from which there hung paper lanterns of every color, or bright tassels that shimmered in the breeze. It was so utterly unlike any place Nox had seen, and yet the sounds of the village were familiar: a dozen chattering conversations, the screams and laughter of fledglings testing their wings, the clatter of cookware. In the center of the village a great bed of coals glittered, and over their heat turned several spits heavy with crisping meat.

Many of the residents had the same red, blue, and yellow wings as Tariel, but he saw snowy whites, dark browns and golds, blacks, pure yellows, and every other hue imaginable. But the most numerous clan represented had to be the Quetzals: glossy emerald and black.

“This way,” said Tariel, landing on springy grass. “Everyone will stare at you, but ignore them. They’re just being nosy, probably wondering why three northie kids have turned up out of nowhere. Actually, now I’m wondering that. Maybe I should have asked that first. Why are you here, anyway?”

“It’s a long story,” said Ellie. “Let’s just say … we’re on our way to visit family.”

Nox felt the stares immediately, and his feathers bristled. They might have been beyond King Garion’s reach here, but it still felt wrong to walk straight through a town without any attempt to hide their identities. He’d spent his whole life trying to avoid attention, but now there wasn’t a pair of eyes that didn’t turn his way. Ducking his head, he resisted the urge to draw his wings around his face.

“Cool wings!” shouted a Macaw fledgling, running up to jog beside Twig. “I never saw lucky wings before. Can I touch them?”

Twig blinked, looking stunned. “Uh … I guess.”

“Don’t be rude, Seff!” Tariel ordered. “That’s my little cousin Seff. Granna says he has absolutely no boundaries. I say he has absolutely no brains. Shove off, Seff, this is important business we’re on and these are very distinguished guests.”

“Are they northies?” Seff peered closer. “My friend Klo says all northies are kneelers. I don’t know what a kneeler is, but it sounds stupid. Are you all stupid?”

“Oh sacred skies, Seff, go away or I’ll club you with this stonefish!”

With an impish grin, the fledgling scurried off, fluttering his small wings but not quite making it into the air.

“He’s the worst,” complained Tariel. “I’d say he’s not always like that, but he’s always like that. Come on, Granna’s place is just over there.”

The house she led them to was set between two rows of palms, with a wide front porch and tasseled ribbons strung along its roof. A red dog lay sprawled on the woven mat in front of the door, and Tariel had to push it out of the way with her foot so they could enter. The dog yawned and barely cracked an eye.

“That’s Tuber,” Tariel said. “Granna says he’s worse than useless. She’ll be in the back at her wheel. This way!”

As he stepped inside, Nox noticed the ashmark drawn in fresh soot over the doorway; even here, the symbol was used to ward off gargols.

The interior of the house was cool and breezy, with rooms separated by colorful cloth curtains. Mats and cushions on the floor provided seating while the center of the room was dominated by an iron cookstove whose chimney rose to the apex of the domed roof.

Tariel led them through the house and out a back door, where they found a wide awning roofed with palm leaves over a cluttered workspace. Pots, bowls, and plates were stacked at wild, teetering angles, and absolutely everything was spattered with mud—including the round old woman bent over a spinning wooden disk, her foot working quickly to spin another disk below it. Mud caked her arms up to her shoulders, and dried in streaks on her apron and face. Her hands worked a lump of wet clay set on the upper disk, shaping it as it spun round and round.

“Your grandmother’s a potter?” asked Gussie.

“Of course!” Tariel shrugged as if that were obvious. “We’re Macaw clan. Pottery’s our legacy.”

“Wow,” breathed Twig, his eyes wide with awe. “It’s so messy. I’ve gotta try it.”

“Granna!” Tariel shouted over the noise of the spinning wheels. “I caught a stonefish for supper! Oh, and I found these lost northies and invited them over.”

The old woman looked up, squinting. Her foot fell still and the pottery wheel began to slow. “What’s this?”

Nox braced himself, waiting for her to demand to know who they were, what their business here was, tell them that they weren’t welcome in this place.

Instead, she stood up, spread her plump, muddy arms, and pulled them all into a massive, sticky hug.

“My dears!” she cried. “Welcome, welcome, welcome! Stonefish stew for us all, and if we’re lucky, we might even live through the first bite!”