A Sending of Dragons (22 page)

“Always lucky,” Slakk said, in that jealous way he had. As if living apart for a year was, somehow, luckier than living in comfort in the nursery.

“Luck—if you count it so,” Jakkin answered, and then had to define his terms and explain some more, and all the while being careful not to say too much. It was exhausting.

In the end, Slakk seemed satisfied, if still jealous, but Erikkin had seemed to tire of their banter and had gone off, almost as if sulking, which was unlike him.

Jakkin found him later on his bunk, his face turned toward the wall.

“Erikkin,” he said, reaching a hand to his friend, searching Erikkin's mind, which, of course, remained closed to any sending.

Erikkin had shrugged him off, and Jakkin had left the bunkroom, puzzled. A year ago they'd been close. But now Erikkin seemed changed.

In fact,
everything
at the nursery seemed changed—in the nursery and in the world around him. Some good changes, and some quite terrifying, with more—he was sure—to come. His year in the wild had taught him that: Never think things are going to stay the same.

Sitting in the barn in the dark, Auricle sleeping peacefully behind him, Jakkin finally had to admit that he and Akki had been changed the most of all. He only hoped that they had the courage to do what must be done in the days ahead . . . for themselves and for the dragons of Austar IV.