“Where am I?”
“Nowhere, lost in the Dream of the One.”
“I died.”
“You did.”
Silvertip let the questions flow away. He could feel a slight pulsing now, a faint sensation of movement.
“You are coming into the Dream,” the voice told him. “It will happen slowly. Do not think, just be One.”
“One,” Silvertip agreed, feeling resistance as his arms spread. The first sensation was of being suspended, as though his arms bore what little weight he had. Then he recognized the rushing sensation, as though he slipped through a delicate resistance.
Wind, he felt wind!
“Just accept,” the voice told him. “You are One.”
“I am One.”
He tried to stop the sudden rising of his arms.
“Do not resist,” the voice told him. “Accept. Allow the feelings to flow through you. Become One.”
Silvertip steadied himself, aware of his arms rising and falling, but something was odd about his hands and fingers: When he tried to splay them, the air pulled, causing a slight roaring.
“Accept, Silvertip. Simply be.”
The soothing words allowed him to relax, feeling the resistance fade. Again he slipped effortlessly through the air.
His arms lifted, stroking down, and experienced the lift, could feel the pressure beneath, the subtle vibrations that quivered in his skin.
“That’s right. Learn, allow the knowledge to flow through you.”
“I am flying.”
“Very good. Accept that.”
And he did. Flying. Not arms, but wings.
Awed, he raised the wings, stroking, feeling the lift, the sudden surge forward.
At a sudden gust, his tail shifted, the experience unsettling.
“Accept. Learn.”
Silvertip allowed his new tail to adjust and felt the rightness as he came back level.
Time had no meaning as he tried different movements, flapping, twisting his tail, marveling in the movement of his body through air.
“Where am I going?” he asked.
“Up there.”
A faint glow suffused the gray. He focused on the glow, stroking with his wings, feeling air rushing past his body.
“Slowly, Silvertip. There is no need to rush. You are outside of time. Accept.”
He stiffened his wings, allowing his beating heart to settle, simply soaring toward the glow. As he did, it grew brighter, the foggy image of clouds appearing. The way it did through mist, the round ball of the sun could be seen emerging above and to the right.
“You are One,” the voice insisted.
“I am One. I accept.”
He turned his head, glancing down through the silvered mist, aware of patches of trees barely visible so far below. In fascination, he felt himself slip, his body beginning to fall.
“Extend, Silvertip. Do not think. Simply be.”
He reached out with his wings, feeling them catch the air, and recovered his balance with a twist of his tail.
“Now, rise.”
He took a cautious stroke, then another, feeling the lift. Yes, this was easy.
“Of course it is. But only if you simply accept.”
The world below was clearer now, forest and lakes, grassy meadows, the meandering lines of streams like veins upon the land. To his right, he could see the ragged, cracked expanse of the Ice Giants. They looked so odd from up here: dirty, broken, extending to the north in a jumble of peaks, blocks, and dark crevasses. He could see the long inlet of the Thunder Sea, its dark, silty water filled with dots of white ice.
The tundra stretched as a gray-green belt, undulating over hillocks and pocked with holes. Clusters of boulders jutted up, and to the south, the spruce lands of his youth were carpeted with dark green patches of trees. The great freshwater lakes to the west gleamed a greenish blue. Strips of beach were catching the white froth of waves. Sparkles of smaller lakes and ponds caught the sunlight, glimmering as he soared overhead.
“That is not our goal.”
He slipped into complete clarity, the wind rushing past as he sailed out high over the land.
Something caught his eye, just off to the left.
“Do not be startled,” the voice told him.
The sense of vision was odd, taking in the entire world as he coasted through the crystal air. A great eagle slipped sideways, dropping down toward him.
“You’re an eagle?”
“In the One, yes.”
He tried to crane his head, only to lose his balance. But he knew now, and corrected. “What am I?”
“Condor.”
Memory came to him. “A condor ate my body.”
“That is the lesson, Silvertip. Life is the One. You have become what you feared the most. Through death, you live again, in a different form. That is the way of the Dream. We are all the One.”
Silvertip took a breath, allowing his worry to dissolve, and cocked his head, focusing with extraordinary clarity on the eagle that soared off to his left. The sky hunter stared at him with a familiar piercing yellow eye.