KA-BLAM!!

Both raptors shrieked and landed suddenly, their heads cowed; a low, rattling growl filled the air as they glanced back and forth.

Magdalys realized she’d ducked without meaning to. The brachy had landed his front two legs and then sidestepped uneasily at the blast, the great neck craning around to see where it had come from. The shot had sounded like it came from everywhere at once, but most of all somewhere behind Magdalys and off to the side.

“What the — ?” one of the riders started, and then Magdalys saw Cymbeline Crunk step forward, still in full costume, fairy wings and all, with a double-barreled shotgun raised. And then the world seemed to explode again as she blasted a second shot over everyone’s heads. The raptors backstepped so quickly, one rider fell headlong onto the cobblestones and then scrambled up and bolted.

“Let’s go,” Cymbeline said, grabbing one of the leather straps on the brachy’s saddle and dangling herself alongside the huge dino, shotty pointed forward. “We gotta get the others.”

Magdalys and Two Step traded a wide-eyed gape, and then Magdalys turned back to the brachy. “Come on, big fella,” she whispered.

“Um, did you just talk to the dino?” Two Step asked.

With a harrumphing sound that Magdalys wasn’t sure if everyone could hear or just her, the brachy strode into the crowd of stunned tusslers.

“And did it listen to you?” Two Step said.

“Mind ya business,” Magdalys snorted.

“This is Rusty Rapt —” one of the riders started.

“Ah, shut it, hickjop,” Cymbeline ordered. The Rusty Raptors all clammed up accordingly, eyes wide. “My smoothbore will blast a hole or twelve in each of you while you’re still fiddling with the ramrod of your grandma’s blunderbuss there.” There was a pause, and the riders looked back and forth at each other uneasily. “Now scatter, you moose-face loobies.” The Rusty Raptors didn’t have to be told twice. She was right, after all, and anyway her tone left no room for discussion.

“I think I’m in love,” Two Step said.

Magdalys rolled her eyes. “She’s out of your league, bro.” She squinted into the shadows. “Everyone climb on! We gotta get back to the Asylum.”

Mapper dashed out into the open, followed by Amaya and Little Sabeen. Finally Halsey Crunk stumbled out too, his tears tracking tiny rivers through the soot on his face, and then Marietta Gilbert Smack, the hem of her long elegant skirts coated in the grime of the Raptor Claw.

“Which way?” Magdalys asked.

Once everyone had piled on, the brachy had stomped out of the plaza and into the darkened streets of Manhattan. The yells of fighting and sharp crackle of smashing glass blended with dinosaur growls and occasional musket shots in a rising tide of terror that seemed to seep from the streets all around them.

Now they stood by the black waters of the Hudson River, gazing out at the few scattered lights of New Jersey.

“North,” Mapper reported from behind Magdalys.

“Duh,” Magdalys snapped back. “Which way is north?”

“Right!” Cymbeline and Mapper said at the same time.

“Got it.” Magdalys put her face against the brachy’s big warm neck and thought about the route along the river up to Forty-Second Street, then Fifth Avenue where the orphanage was. Safety, or the closest thing to it anyway. The brachy swung right and lumbered forward.

The Colored Orphan Asylum had never really felt like home to Magdalys. Those long cold hallways echoed with footsteps and sobs; the matrons, their faces usually tight, mouths full of reprimands and clunkily adjusted names. The only friendly face besides the other kids’ was old Mr. Calloway’s. He’d slip Magdalys and the others candies sometimes, and they heard him humming to himself to the swish of his broom and squeak of his well-shined boots as they fell asleep.

A shot rang out, not far away. Everyone huddled close and the brachy picked up his pace a little. Cymbeline loaded a few more shells into her shotgun and drew a long breath. Magdalys scanned the dimly lit shacks on the far side of the street. Nothing stirred.

In the distance, a few sauropods loomed over the rooftops of those huge dinofeed storehouses, long, graceful silhouettes against the cloudy night. Surely the National Guard would be deployed, with riots this bad. But most of them were probably down in Pennsylvania, where the Confederates were said to be making a desperate stab into Union territory, marauding through the farmlands and capturing free blacks to send south to slavery.

And somewhere down there, Montez lay in a hospital bed, or maybe on some dirty floor, unconscious and wounded. Magdalys shuddered. Who would care for him? Who would keep him safe? Certainly not the same army that had already hurled him into harm’s way. Rumors swirled about Union generals sending the colored units out to be massacred with inefficient gear and less pay than the white soldiers. Magdalys had to find out if he was okay. Except she’d never know for sure, not really. Montez was the only family she had left in this country, and he needed her. Or, if she was being honest, she needed him. Maybe, somehow, she could …

CRACK!!

The gunshot was much closer this time, only a block away. Another one rang out, even closer, and then the shriek of a raptor. Magdalys could just glimpse figures moving through the darkness. Were they coming toward where the brachy strode along beside the river? She couldn’t tell.

A small, roundish shape scattered along the ground nearby. Then another. Magdalys squinted through the darkness. A herd of tiny microceratopses scuttled past, squealing and grunting. The little guys were like baby, hornless trikes. They served no discernible purpose in society, Dr. Barlow Sloan insisted somewhat caustically in the Dinoguide, except to get in the way and occasionally be household pets. The brachiosaurus paused to watch them hurry off and hooted sympathetically.

“Uh, Mag-D?” Two Step whispered. “Since you seem to be able to wrangle this brachy pretty well, could you tell her to, like … hurry?”

“He.”

“What?”

“The brachy’s a he, not a she. And … yes.”

Magdalys didn’t even close her eyes or concentrate too hard this time. She just thought Go! and then they were blasting along beside the Hudson at a breakneck gallop, and the wild night wind rushed through her hair and for a few flickering seconds she felt like everything might somehow be alright.