Draxin Alistair (16)'s Arc

Chapter 15 of 22

The wagon rolled north for three days. Draxin watched the desert turn to scrub, then to rock, then to snow. He had never seen snow. It stuck to his eyelashes and melted on his tongue. Zag burrowed into the satchel and refused to come out. Dante drove the horses with the reins wrapped once around his wrist, cigar burning against the wind. Mimi slept sitting up. Spike complained about his ears. On the fourth morning they crested a ridge and Draxin saw the village below. Steep metal roofs. Warm yellow windows. Smoke rising straight up in the cold air. One house stood taller than the rest, and a blue banner hung from its front beam. A white fang was painted on the cloth. "Boss," Spike said. He had stopped chewing. "That's a Fang house." "I see it." "You said the haul was buried past the village." "It is." "Then we're going through him." Dante didn't answer. He flicked the reins. They were halfway down the slope when the door under the banner opened. A man stepped out into the snow. He was huge. A white fur coat swallowed his shoulders. His gloves were metal and gears, fingers ending in claws. A blue fang was painted on his bare chest to match the banner. He grinned when he saw the wagon, and every tooth showed. "Dante Cris," he called. His voice carried across the snow like he was greeting a brother. "Seven years. You still smoke those garbage cigars." Dante stopped the wagon. He climbed down slowly. "Gustavo." Draxin slid off the back. His slippers sank into the snow to the ankle. He stayed behind the wagon wheel and watched. Gustavo Frostclaw walked out to meet them. He stopped six paces from Dante. The grin didn't move. "You know the rule. Nobody digs in my tundra without asking. Especially you." "I'm asking." "You're passing through with a crew and a wagon. That's not asking." His eyes slid past Dante and landed on Draxin. The grin widened. "New one. Small." Says Gustavo. "He's mine." Says Dante. "Everything you touch is yours, Cris. That's the problem." Says Gustavo. Mimi's hand moved to her belt. Spike shifted his weight. The snow was very quiet. Gustavo raised one metal glove. The gears clicked. "Villages here answer to me. The people in them eat because I feed them. You want to walk past my door to a hole in the ice, you pay the toll or you fight the man at the door." He tapped his chest, over the blue fang. "Same as always." Dante took the cigar out of his mouth. He looked at it. He looked at Gustavo. "Then we fight," Dante said. Gustavo laughed. It was a warm sound. He flexed the claws on his gloves. "Good," he said. "I was getting bored."