Dragonlands(22)

She could make out the shadow of Bastian’s head shaking. “No, Tressa. The light is coming from you. From your eyes.”

“What?” She mustn’t have heard him right. “Not mine. The owl.”

“No, Tressa, it’s coming from your eyes. Not an owl.” He paused. “What owl?”

“You can’t see it? It’s sitting on my shoulder.” Tressa pointed with her finger, then realized that was ridiculous. Even Bastian was just a shadow in the fog. Of course he couldn’t see the tiny bird sitting on her shoulder. Even so, the glow had to be coming from the owl, not her own eyes. She craned her neck toward her shoulder. The purple glow was there, surrounding the little owl. She squinted, trying to narrow down the source of the glow to the owl’s eyes.

But as her field of vision narrowed, she could see the owl’s face more clearly. The glow surrounded Nerak, but wasn’t coming from it. The owl tilted its head, looking back at Tressa. She glanced back toward Bastian, noticing for the first time the glow followed her eyes wherever they lead.

“Bastian?” she called out. “Are you still there?”

His shadow became more apparent as he moved closer. “I’m here.”

“I think you’re right. The glow is coming from me.” She faltered, feeling like an idiot. “But I don’t know why, or how.”

“Who cares? It saved us and that’s all that matters. Whatever it is you’re doing, it brought us back together.” His arm slid around her waist, pulling her close.

Their chests touched, leaving no more than a breath between them. A slight pinch to her shoulder told her the owl was taking flight. The glow extinguished and Bastian pulled her closer. Not out of desire, but concern.

“I can’t see you anymore. Can you see me?” His voice was lined with worry as his arm tightened its grip on her waist.

“No.” Tressa shook her head, feeling Bastian’s hard chest against her cheek. He was so close, but even with her eyes wide open, she couldn’t see one inch of him. The fog was too thick, enveloping her sense of sight. Without the glow, there was nothing.

“It’s okay as long as we’re together.” Bastian rested his chin on the top of Tressa’s head. “Is the owl still on your shoulder? I don’t feel it.” His hand ran up and down her arm.

“No. It flew away when you pulled me closer.” She wanted to tell him she didn’t regret it because being in his arms was the only thing she’d ever craved.

“Call it back.” His breath lingered on her cheek. If she stood on her tiptoes, she knew their lips would be even.

“Here, Nerak!” She closed her eyes, remembering how she’d gotten the owl to come to her in the first place. “I’m going to let go of you, but just with one hand. Make sure you hang on to me, okay?” she asked Bastian.

His grip tightened more. Tressa held her arm out to the side and attempted to mimic the hooting noise Nerak made. A flapping sound cut through the fog. Hope surged in Tressa’s chest, confirmed only when she felt the familiar pinch of talons on her hand.

“I did it. She’s back.” Tressa bent her arm, bringing her hand closer to her body. The feathers brushed against her nose.

“The light’s not back,” Bastian said. “We need that to find Connor.”

“Well, she was on my shoulder the last time it happened. Maybe I should try that?” Tressa touched her hand to her shoulder and wiggled her fingers. The little owl’s talons shimmied from Tressa’s hand to her shoulder. The purple glow came back.

“I think you’ve got a magic owl there. Let’s see if we can use this light to find Connor.” Bastian kept one arm snaked around her waist. They stood side-by-side, hips touching. “Which way should we go first?”

A blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. Connor.

“This way,” Tressa said, heading off in the direction of the cry.





Chapter Fifteen


They wandered through the mist, stumbling over their own feet. The light only gave shape to shadows in the darkness. Bastian held his sword out in front of them as a guide to keep them from running into trees. The screams had stopped as quickly as they’d come on, yet they pressed forward in the direction they’d believed to be right. Bastian was always sure of himself – except not now. The fog disoriented him more than he’d like to admit. For Tressa’s sake, he kept his mouth shut.

A splash was followed by a squeal. Tressa pushed back into Bastian, stopping him before he got wet.

“I think it’s a pond,” Tressa said. “Or maybe a stream. I can kind of see where it ends. Can you?”