Luna Brightwood's Arc

Chapter 7 of 22

Luna kept her hand on the cloth and listened. The dragon breathed against her wrist. The owl watched the courtyard. She thought the worst of the night was over. Then the trunk shook. Something heavy moved at the base of the tree. Not a climb this time. A slow circle. She heard weight press into the roots, then shift, then press again on the far side. Whatever it was, it was walking around the trunk, testing. Luna eased to the platform edge and looked down. The courtyard glow caught a low, wide shape between the roots. She could not see a face. She saw a back like wet stone and a tail that dragged. It stopped under the ladder. It sniffed. Then it set one clawed foot on the bottom rung. Lumina Dewsparkle rose from the branches with her wings tight. "If she climbs, you cannot hold her off," the fairy whispered. "Not with the eggs in your lap." Luna counted the bundle again without looking. Eight shells. Her camera hung against her chest. She could not fight and guard at once. She had to keep the thing on the ground. Luna pulled the ladder up. It was lighter than she expected and slid over the boards with a dry scrape. The shape below hissed and stepped back. It circled again, faster now, scratching at the trunk. The bark was smooth and bare. There were no low branches on this side. Luna watched its claws slip twice and catch nothing. It tried the other side and slipped again. "Hold," Lumina said. She flew down along the trunk and hovered above the creature's head. From a pouch at her waist she shook loose a pale lily, petals open, a thin smoke curling from the center. The smoke sank. The creature lifted its snout, took one breath, then another. Its legs folded. It sat down in the roots. Its head dropped against the bark. It did not move again. Lumina flew back up, tucked the bloom away, and landed on the platform rail. "She will sleep until sunrise," the fairy said. "That is all I had." Luna set the ladder flat along the boards, out of reach from below. She put her hand back on the cloth bundle. The eggs were warm through the fabric. The dragon uncurled and settled against her hip. The owl faced the courtyard again. Below, the heavy shape breathed slow in the roots, harmless now. Luna did not lift the camera. She had kept the eggs safe, and she had done it without a shot. Morning was still hours away, but the tree was hers to hold until light.