The dragonette clung to Rav as he knelt beside her cave in the hillside. He tried to pry her off, but her claws only sank deeper. Rav glanced over his shoulder. Maybe if he gave her something of his, it would convince her to stay. His jacket was out of the question; the crew would ask questions if he showed up without it. And he needed it to do his work on the ship in the cold upper sky.

Rav unbuttoned the jacket. When he could wriggle his arms out, he pulled it up around his shoulders, wrapped the tiny dragon in it and scooped her off. He stripped off his shirt and tucked it into a nest in the cave. It took some coaxing to get the dragonette to leave the warm jacket for the damper, less comforting hollow, but with Rav's encouragement, she made the transfer. He donned his jacket again, shivering.

Step one: get back to his room and grab a new shirt before the crew realized he didn't have one. Step two: wash up as usual. Step three: show the captain what he had collected and hope to the gods it was enough to make the man stop asking. Rav emptied his whole bag and checked the inside for dragonette scales. He repacked it and set out back to the ship.

Dreamcatcher was quiet when he arrived. The repairs on her propellers had been finished while he was away; they were symmetrical once more, if sparse, like late-season flowers robbed of half their petals. The rudder was still unrepaired. Rav jumped as a line creaked. The ship swayed gently in a light breeze.

Rav scaled the rope ladder and swung himself over the railing onto the empty deck. He crouched by the hatch cover and set it open a crack, listening. The clank of wrenches echoed from the engine room. Empty food tins tinkled in a cupboard like an off-tune manjira, and farther off, the captain hummed to himself just as badly. That left Sanjay, but Rav wasn't worried about him. He slipped through the hatch. His room was four steps away, and in seconds he had eased the door shut behind him and leaned against it, able to breathe again.

Washing up didn't take long, but Rav stalled every moment he could. As long as he was the one with the samples he had gathered, he could have a hand in their safety. When they reached the captain's possession, that ceased. On a second thought, he put back the cloth he had gathered to wipe the slime from his bag. If it looked messy enough, it would give the impression that he'd spend the whole day searching diligently.

The captain was in the navigation room. Had every nerve in his body not stopped him, Rav would have snatched the notebook from his hands and slapped him with it.

"Sit," said the man without looking up from Rav's sketches.

Rav moved to the farthest chair.

"Closer."

Rav shuffled back. He set the bag on a chair and laid his collected samples out one by one. It felt like a surrender. The captain's eyes lingered on the most unusual-looking specimens, though Rav knew already that some of the plainer plants were in fact the most unique. The captain only liked the things that looked strange.

Maybe he could use that to his advantage?

No, that would mean collecting more. He never wanted to be sent out again.

"Are these all new species too?" said the captain when everything was on display. Rav nodded wordlessly. His face burned. His own interest had driven him to collect all the new and different specimens. He was worsening the damage. Why hadn't he thought of that?

The captain's keen eyes had turned to him while he knotted his hands in his lap. Rav drew himself smaller. He couldn't look up. Would the captain see he was still hiding something? Or how little he wanted to be here on the ship? How much of a disappointment was he this time?

Satisfaction padded the captain's voice. "I like you, boy. You're an interesting one, but I like you."

Interesting? Had he ever looked in a mirror?

"Come work for me."

Rav's stomach inverted. He stared at the man, hoping he had drifted off for a moment and dreamed the statement.

"You're tougher than the last kids we had on board," continued the captain. "And good with the ship. And your... skills here." He waved a hand over the collection on the table. "I see all kinds of things on my travels, and I want you to come do this with them. I'll send a letter for your Father when we're back in port. You'll have stable living; room and board, and extra for your family when you have one. I see that all my crew's families are kept well."

He leaned on the table and smiled across it. Rav realized this was the point where he was supposed to reply. He was supposed to say yes. Everything Father had put him through came together in this moment: the moment he secured a job on a known airship, with training and opportunities for advancement and enough pay to buy his own house and hire servants and support a family. The thought snaked around his neck like the dragonette's tail, only cold and tight, threatening to cut off his breathing. This was what airship workers were expected to do. How much family did each of the crew members have? Did they have partners? Children? Parents getting on in age?

He would have everything Father wanted for him.

Or wanted him for.

The endless, unbearable mass of the moment ended when Indra stuck his head in the door. "Cap'n? There's something on deck you might want to see."

The captain grunted and hauled himself to his feet. "Think on it," he told Rav, then waved a hand at the mess on the table. "Do what you did with the other ones." Then they were both gone.

Rav rested his head on his arms.

Come work for me.

There was no way out. No excuse would placate Father if his son turned this down. Rav would pick his own family name, and come home to find no home to come to. Father would treat him with the same stony unrecognition he gave Rav's oldest sister after she left a career in law to open a bakery. He would call the guards like he had the last time Aarohi had come to visit. She had not even sent a letter since.

Mother would cry.

He was crying. The crew shouldn't see him like this. Rav scrubbed his eyes. Manish was not in the galley, so he snuck in and splashed his face with cold water from the washbasin. The drops scattered to the floor like rain.

When he felt more presentable, Rav lifted his head. Quick, hushed voices came from the deck. The hatch was open. Rav took his time down the hallway and up the small, stair-like ladder. Sanjay, Indra and Manish all stood on deck, some ways behind the crouched captain. The man was wrestling with something. With a final grunt he snapped it shut; the clang of metal on metal. He turned with a maniacally wide grin and a cage in one hand.

Inside it was a small, white dragon.

Rav's legs lost all memory of muscle and bone. He dropped to the deck with a thump that stung his knees.

"That was nearly my reaction, boy," beamed the captain. "Looks like your biologists need to check their assumptions. This? This could buy me a new Dreamcatcher right here. We're all rich, boy. We're all rich!"

He cackled, doubled over with almost hysterical laughter. "Rich!" he whooped. "Famous! The ship that traveled where no one goes and came back with the world's last Skydragon!" His captive bumped and swung wildly as he dashed to each crew member and shook their shoulders with both hands. "Our lives are about to change, boys! Change forever!"

The cage landed in front of Rav with a bang. "That's yours to look after, cabin boy," said the captain. Then he was gone, dancing around the deck.

Rav pulled the cage up onto his knees. The dragonette was too petrified to move. She pressed to the cage bottom with eyes huge and wings flattened, as if by her stillness she could turn invisible. On the pale backdrop of the island, she probably almost could.

"I'm sorry." Too stricken to do anything else, Rav hugged the cage. "I'm sorry."

Nobody paid him any attention. Nobody except Manish, who watched with the crippling pain of sympathy. Rav rocked back and forth. Tears drew lines down his cheeks, warm, then cold. He hadn't protected her. He had already failed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."