The pup shrank back against the rock wall. Eat thunder? Swallow lightning? He had already tried once, and failed. If he tried again, he would fail again.

The mere thought of it made his legs shake.

‘I can’t,’ he whispered. ‘I can’t, Flax. Please ^hic please don’t ask me.’

Flax stroked his leg. ‘You’re our only hope. We need you, pup. The Floating Forest needs you. Your parents need you.’

The pup remembered the look of despair in his father’s eyes. ‘She has ripped the magic from half the trees in Sketterhome…’

‘Won’t you try?’ asked Flax.

The pup was shaking all over now. But the Floating Forest needed him. And so did his parents.

‘W-will you ^hic stay with me?’ he whispered.

Flax nodded. ‘I will.’

‘SO WILL I,’ said the dragon who was Rose.

The pup took a deep breath.

He closed his eyes.

He called a storm.

It was like sending a part of himself up into the sky and far away. A very small, frightened part of himself. He could feel it up there, shivering.

And seeking.

He sent it further. Past the borders of Hallow and out across the mountains of Quill.

Past the mountains to the deserts.

And there, in the heat and the swirling air, he found a thunderstorm.

The small, frightened part of him wanted to yelp with terror and scuttle away. But Flax was leaning against his leg. Rose had wrapped her tail around both of them, like a big scaly hug.

And his parents needed him.

So the pup took another deep breath and sang to the storm. The way he had heard his parents sing.

A calling song, which no one but Spellhounds could hear.

A come-to-me song. With hiccups.

Then the small, very frightened part of him raced back to his body, and waited.

‘Is it coming?’ whispered Flax.

The pup couldn’t see it. He couldn’t hear it.

But he could smell it. And he could feel it, deep in his Spellhound bones.

The rumble of thunder. The snap of lightning.

‘It’s ^hic coming!’