Chapter Four

"Cinnamon, wake up," someone said, prodding her side.

"Mph," Cinnamon groaned, shoving the talons away from her. "Go away Moss," she whined.

The drake laughed. "Open your eyes, kid."

Cinnamon opened one eye and saw a face she did not expect. It was Leap, one of the most respected betas in the whole pack.

"Oh, crap," Cinnamon hissed, sitting up fast. "I... I apologize, sir. I thought you were my friend Moss."

"Ha, that's fine," Leap said. "We're going on a little mission. Betas and deltas only, very important."

"Really?" Cinnamon asked excitedly, following her out of the den. "Where are we going?"

"Emerald thought we should visit a few other packs, see how they're doing," Leap explained.

"Oh. What packs?" Cinnamon questioned.

"Bluemist and Ashfall."

"Isn't Ashfall a... a blood pack?" Cinnamon said nervously.

"Yes. But don't get scared; they can't do anything to you, not with us there," Leap assured her. 

The cool morning dirt crumbled under Cinnamon's claws.  "Okay."

Emerald smiled as Cinnamon and Leap approached her and the small dark brown she-drake she was with.  "Ready to go?  Leap, did you explain the mission to Cinnamon?"

Leap nodded. 

"Great.  Let's set out then."

Cinnamon found herself growing tired long before her travelling companions even looked a little bit worn out.  The open desert sun beat down on her back and she had to trot to keep up with the adult drakes' longer strides.  But she pushed back her tiredness and just kept walking, even as the sun got hotter and the land dryer and the air staler.  All signs of life seemed to vanish not long before Leap announced that they had crossed the border to Bluemist territory. 

Cinnamon looked around, panting.  She couldn't see any water, animals, or plants... just sand.  How does a whole pack survive off of just sand? 

"Bluemist suffered a drought last dry season, like all of us," Leap explained.  "But the water never came back to them."

"Why?" Cinnamon asked curiously.

"They assume the river's blocked somewhere out that way," Leap said, tossing her head east.  "They've sent a few drakes to deal with it, but nobody ever comes back.  They've given up by now."

"Why don't we help them?" Cinnamon suggested.  "All of our drakes are strong enough to make the journey.  I'd go myself."

"It's not worth risking our own drakes," Emerald spoke up.  "We don't know for sure just why they keep dying.  It could easily be the heat and lack of water out on their own, but what if there's, I don't know, another pack out there that keeps picking them off?  Or, even worse, a sand wyvern nest we don't know about?"

Flea, the small brown beta, shuddered.  "I'd say 'knock on wood', but there's nothing out here," she sighed.

"I guess you're right," Cinnamon said to Emerald.  "I just wish we could help."

"I know what you mean," Emerald agreed.  "But it's too risky."

Cinnamon nodded in agreement, but when they got to the pack's camp, she quickly took it back. These drakes were nothing but fur and bone! They all limped on shaking legs and struggled to speak with chafed throats, each rib visible even from far away. Their ears seemed permanently held down, a clear sign of pain and sadness, and their tails dragged as if they hadn't the energy to lift them off the ground.

"Hello, Matriarch Emerald," said a skinny she-drake with light pink fur as she limped over to greet the Sunblaze drakes.

"Matriarch Rose," Emerald said, dipping her head respectfully.

Rose glanced nervously at Emerald's companions. "What... what brings you here?"

"We're just here for a visit," Emerald explained. "And to show a new delta around the desert a little bit."

"New delta?" Rose echoed softly, and her pale brown eyes landed on Cinnamon. "Is that her?"

"Yep," Leap said, "this is Cinnamon." Leap told Rose the story of Cinnamon's battle with the death condors. Cinnamon barely refrained from rolling her eyes. That story already seemed so old. Everyone was making it a bigger deal then it was.

But Rose looked impressed.  "Mighty brave of you, hon," she said in a sweet voice that still reflected all of her pain.  Cinnamon had to try again later, maybe when they got back to their own camp.  She had to reason with Emerald—her pack had to help these sad drakes.  "Well, I can give you the whole report in a minute," Rose said with a resigned sigh.  "We're not doing too good.  There are only 23 drakes left here."

Cinnamon drew in a sharp breath.  Sunblaze had 89 drakes, last time she checked.  That meant that Bluemist had lost about 70 drakes since the dry season, less then a year ago!  How long until they all died out... for good?

"That's terrible."  But Emerald didn't sound quite sympathetic enough to offer help.  "Well, if that's the whole update, I guess we'll be off now."

Rose ducked her head.  "Godspeed," she muttered.

"Good luck, Matriarch Rose.  My hope burns for your pack," Cinnamon called as the bony pink drake turned away. 

She smiled weakly at Cinnamon.  "Thanks, kid."

Cinnamon nodded and followed her travelling companions back up the slope, heading out toward the desert again. 

"Poor drakes," Leap was saying, her eyes dull with apparent grief.  "Only 23 of them left.  They used to be as big as we are.  That's too many dead drakes in too a short time."

They travelled to the next territory in complete silence, all of them probably thinking about the sad, starving drakes in the Bluemist pack.  Cinnamon certainly was.  She couldn't get the picture of Rose's desperate, haunted eyes out of her head.

"There it is," Flea announced, squinting into the distance.  "Ashfall's camp.  You can see it if you look closely."

Emerald nodded.  "Good eye, Flea," she praised, and then turned to meet Cinnamon's eyes. "Stay close to us. We might as well be walking into a sand wyvern lair with Matriarch Blight running the place."