It had been many months since Intan last wore something other than her uniform. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to wander around in nothing but tunic and shorts.

Not that she was currently wearing so little. The train compartment in which she currently sat was very stuffy indeed, but outside it was still quite chilly, though the sun was shining bright.

Her only companions, Kikue and the Hibiscus boy, had been glaring at each other ever since they’d gotten on the train. Or rather, more accurately, Kikue had been glaring at him while he pretended to sleep. Intan had found this funny at first, but now, a few hours later, she was beginning to get bored.

A little adventure would clear her head, she’d thought earlier that morning. But of course this was no adventure. It was a mission, and they were to be on their very best behavior this time, “or else.”

Hadil had protested at first. “You’re still not fully recovered. What if you get into trouble? You’re in no condition to fight, much less run away!”

But it was a Very Important Mission, and one far away from immediate trouble. They were to infiltrate one of the small mining villages on the northwest quadrant of the island. One further inland than Hadil’s village had been, hidden somewhere deep in the middle of the forest and the mountains. It was nowhere close to the rebels’ location, according to the Brigadier General, and quite isolated from civilization, but the people there were nonetheless rumored to hold sympathies for the rebel cause. Whatever the cause was.

At any rate, the villagers were supposed to be hiding some important information about Filipe Mok’s plans. Soldiers had already gone to investigate several times before, but without much success.

Now it was the Dragons’ turn to make an attempt, though instead of charging right into the place in an official capacity, they were to infiltrate the place, pretending to be orphaned vagrants searching for work.

Which was why they were currently stuck on this train instead of flying directly over in their Dolls -- which had been disguised as cargo and would be stashed somewhere safe in the vicinity, just in case.

The train clattered noisily as it burrowed into yet another long, winding tunnel through the mountains. Hardly anyone else rode the rails at this time of year. Everyone who had gone home to be with family and friends over the holidays had long since returned to the cities and factories where they worked.

Intan bit back a yawn as the walls of the tunnel streaked past. She had been very tired lately. So very sleepy all the time, much like the Hibiscus boy dozing away in front of her -- but she didn’t want to take a nap, either. Something told her that if she did, she might not ever wake up again. And at any rate, it was too difficult to relax here, on board this train whose rumbling was so very different from a Doll’s.

Hadil was probably right that she still hadn’t fully recovered, strange as the thought was to her. She’d always been a quick healer before. Never got sick, either, even when the rest of the village was all down with a cold.

More troubling, her memory also seemed to have worsened. She was trying to remember what she’d had for breakfast that morning, for example, but couldn’t quite remember. Porridge? Leftover rice with tea? Preserved eggs? Or had that been the day before? Bits and pieces of images and sounds kept sliding around in her head. Like pudding...

Kikue suddenly elbowed her. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Intan cocked her head, straining to listen for whatever Kikue was talking about over the sounds of the train.

“Shh. There it is again!”

“I don’t hear anything...” she said doubtfully, and snuck a glance at the Hibiscus boy. Trieu, wasn’t it? But he was still snoring softly, left cheek smushed against the window, the rim of his glasses leaving imprints on his skin.

“There!” muttered Kikue, and leaped out of her seat. She teetered for a moment, apparently having forgotten they were currently in a moving behicle, then slid open the doors of their compartment and peered outside.

Intan got up more slowly after her and took a look as well.

“Don’t see anything either...”

Kikue growled and stomped out into the corridor, looking left and right.

“What kind of noise was it?” asked Intan, curious now.

“Some sort of scratching...”

“You mean like a squirrel? Maybe something accidentally got on board!”

“No!” snapped Kikue. Then, gritting her teeth, she explained, “Too big. Also, it was scratching out a code from the school’s alarm system!”

Intan blinked. Waved a hand before Kikue’s face. “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

Kikue swatted her hand away. “I was not dreaming.” Then she tensed and turned right. “There it is again! You go the other way to make sure it’s not a trap!”

She ran off without waiting for a response.

* * *

Intan peeked one last time at the sleeping Hibiscus boy, then quietly slid the doors shut and headed left down the corridor as Kikue had asked her to. She certainly hoped it was just a squirrel. Maybe they could feed it and bring it with them on their mission. Kikue’d probably be annoyed, but maybe if Intan tried to convince her to use it as part of their disguise...

Odd though. She really hadn’t heard anything. She’d teased Kikue about dreaming up the whole thing, but Kikue wasn’t the kind of person to make a big deal out of nothing. The other girl was far too proud for that. And it really did feel like Intan was missing something after all.

Well, she probably didn’t need to worry too much about it. One of the first things they’d done upon boarding the train was to check the passenger list for suspicious individuals. Nothing unusual had surfaced, though, and Intan didn’t really see how anyone could set a trap for them here when nobody else knew who they were, or what they were here for.

So she continued wandering down the hall, to the next compartment, and the next. She wondered how many compartments Kikue intended for her to check. Or how long she was supposed to look for this mysterious sound that might or might not even be real.

Maybe it would be better for her to head back. Maybe Kikue had found something. Or maybe it had just been a false alarm. At any rate, they would be reaching the village soon. They’d have more than enough to worry about at that point.

Only then, Intan did hear something.

Scratch, scratch, scratch. Far too rhythmic to be a lost animal. And it did sound like one of the school’s drum codes, like Kikue had said (only scratched instead of tapped or beat, of course). But which one?

The scratching sound faded slightly as it moved further down the hall. Intan tiptoed after it, careful not to make any noise that would cover up the sound.

Whatever it was, it continued repeating the pattern it had begun with, over and over again. But it did not seem to be one of the codes Intan recognized. She wondered if Kikue had recognized it, and if that was why the other girl had been so worried. But then again, if Kikue had recognized it, wouldn’t she have mentioned what message it bore?

The scratching paused. Then started up again, this time in the same spot. Intan stared, but try as she might, she could not find the culprit at all.

Like pudding, she thought, and rubbed at her eyes in frustration.

The scratching moved down the hall again. This time, it stopped in front of a closed compartment. The sound grew louder, more insistent. Intan, annoyed, flung open the unlocked doors.

To her surprise, a white-haired woman in pretty blue and yellow robes sat by the window, humming a familiar song. An old, old lullaby, whose words Intan had long forgotten.

The woman broke off mid-verse and turned. Upon seeing Intan, she cried out in shock.

Intan hurriedly backed away. “Sorry, excuse me! I must have gotten the wrong room!”

But the lady shook her head, frowning, and motioned for her to stay. “You... I do not recognize your face.”

“It’s okay, I don’t recognize you either!” replied Intan cheerfully. She took the opportunity to look around the room and search for the source of the scratching, which had stopped the moment she stepped inside.

The lady seemed to relax at that, if only a little bit. “You speak the old tongue well.”

“You do too!”

This made the lady laugh. “You flatter me, my child.”

The scratching still did not resume. Nor could Intan locate any hint of what might have caused it.

“What are you called, little one?”

“My name’s Intan! What about you?”

“I am called Shulinaq in the old way, but most now call me Lin.”

“Are you heading to Redmoon Village too?”

The lady opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, the compartment suddenly lurched. The train screeched and squealed to a stop. Down the hall, Intan heard someone screaming.

And then the lights flickered out.

* * *

Intan was already halfway through the door when she felt a firm grip on her shoulder.

“Do not fear,” murmured the lady passenger.

“But my friends --”

The woman’s grip tightened. “You were not traveling alone?”

Intan shook her head, then realized the woman couldn’t see her. But her mistake gave her a chance to recall her original purpose, and the story she was supposed to be sticking to. “Two others from the orphanage...”

The woman clucked her tongue in a noise of dismay.

“Let us make haste, then! It may not yet be too late. I will show you the way.”

Something flickered to life in the darkness -- a pale flame, though Intan could not make out its source. The stark illumination painted the woman’s face with a gaunt, almost skeletal expression. Her eyes were wide and dark with worry.

“What’s going on?” whispered Intan.

But the woman shook her head and held out a thin, bony hand. Intan accepted it.

Together, they strode out of the compartment and down the hall, following the light bobbing through the air before them. Despite the earlier screams, it was now eerily silent, as if a strange mist enveloped them, protecting them from all outside influences.

Intan burned with questions, but the woman’s pace was brisk and unrelenting. Intan could only hope that Kikue had not run into too much trouble, and that the Hibiscus boy had woken up.

They had passed through about three or four compartments when a voice called out from behind a door. As if in response, the light instantly dimmed.

“Shulinaq, what are you doing here? Have you forgotten the plan?” A handsome, dark-skinned man with silvery hair stepped out. Upon noticing Intan, he frowned. “Who is this?”

“Pakka, there are children on board.”

“What! How can that be?”

“We’re from the orphanage!” Intan offered helpfully.

The man’s frown grew deeper. “From the south?”

Intan shrugged noncommittally.

The man threw up his hands in response. “Dammit, Lin. There’s no time left!”

“I know. But we cannot leave them here.”

“Do as you will,” muttered the man after another glance and quick shake of his head. “You know I cannot stop you. I will delay as long as I can.”

“Thank you, Pakka,” murmured the woman in response. “I will not forget this.”

The man waved them off, then shrank back into the shadows.

Intan and the woman continued on their way.

* * *

The bobbing light had grown again. Intan squinted ahead, but still could not make out anything.

“Which compartment were your friends in?” asked the woman, Shulinaq.

“The tenth,” replied Intan.

“A queer omen indeed,” said Shulinaq in a low, troubled tone. “Whether for good or ill, I cannot say.”

They did not speak again for a few more compartments. No one else emerged. All remained silent as ever. Intan quickened her pace, only to find that she was beginning to have trouble breathing.

The mist was real, she realized. No longer just a figment of her imagination.

Her chest burned. Her eyes watered. She began to cough, but that only seemed to make it worse.

Before her, Shulinaq drew to a stop and pulled out a strange mask -- one far more grotesque and frightening than even the fiercest Doll faces, with pouches flapping like a moustache beside the mouthpiece, a long trunk from the nose, and glowing insect-like goggles for the eyes.

“Put this on,” said Shulinaq, miming the correct procedure for Intan. “Hurry.”

Intan mimicked her. Almost instantly the burning sensation in her chest stopped. She frowned, pulled the mouthpiece back out.

“What about you?”

Shulinaq smiled, shook her head, then leaned back to the previous compartment to suck in a lungful of breath before continuing down the way yet again.

Intan followed her, wondering how much longer the lady would be able to keep this up, and how much longer it would take before they reached their compartment, and if Kikue had escaped the mist, or if she had even returned to look for Intan after the train stopped.

They passed through yet more compartments. Shulinaq stopped again, gesturing at a door. Intan recognized it as the room where she had been staying with Kikue and Trieu.

But when she slid open the door, no one was there.

Intan wondered if she should consider their absence worrisome or reassuring. But she had no time to wonder further. Behind them, a muffled voice said, “Lin, we’re out of time!”

It was the man from earlier, Pakka. He too was wearing a strange mask.

Shulinaq looked from the empty room, then to Intan. Without another moment’s hesitation, she grabbed Intan’s arm and dragged her back down the hallway. The man followed them with a heavy metal bar in his hands.

Soon enough, they reached a heavy metal door. The man rammed the lock once, twice. The sound was jarring in the silence.

The door swung open. Heat blasted into their faces. The engine room, Intan thought vaguely, but still Shulinaq did not stop.

Two doors later, they burst into the cool darkness of the tunnel outside. The man pulled off his mask; Intan followed suit, gasping for air. Then immediately turned back.

“My friends are still in there! I have to make sure they’re okay!”

“You mustn’t!” said Shulinaq, even as the disembodied light they had been following flickered out completely.

Intan, confused and sick with worry, shook her head and began to put the strange mask back on.

Something rumbled. She tripped. Shulinaq and the man pulled Intan away, into a cramped side tunnel she might have otherwise mistaken for a natural crevice.

And just in time.

The train exploded. Their bodies pressed against the reinforced wall as heat blew past. Beyond them, the main tunnel flared red. For a moment Intan thought she saw a great white snake winding and twisting through the rubble. But then she blinked, and nothing was left but flame and stone.

“Kikue!” she screamed, struggling to run out, but the man held her back. “KIKUE!!”

“I am sorry about your friends,” Shulinaq said hoarsely, and the expression on her face was genuinely pained.

“Why?” cried Intan. “Why do something like this? What good does it do to spill innocent blood in a place like this?”

Shulinaq closed her eyes briefly. “Come,” she said at last. “Come, and you will understand.”

* * *

Intan stumbled blindly after them. They seemed to be following another, smaller set of rails through a different, narrower set of tunnels and caves. Occasionally she saw a rusting cart in the shadows, or tracks dangling over the sides of a cliff. But she did not look for long, could not look for long.

They emerged at last from the mines into a forest and gray skies above. An older man was waiting by an oddly shaped rock some distance away, his forehead creased in anxiety. Shulinaq and Pakka’s appearance did not seem to soothe him.

“There were Dolls on that train!” the man hissed as soon as they were close enough to hear.

Pakka stepped forward. “Impossible! But Mok said --”

Shulinaq placed her hand on his shoulder. As if remembering Intan’s presence, Pakka fell silent. The new man looked from one to the other, then at Intan, then back to Shulinaq.

“Don’t fret,” said the lady. “They must have been corrupted.”

“What shall we do now?”

“We continue with the plan. We have no other choice.”

“And this girl?”

“I will take her to the others. You two go ahead.”

The men, though apparently unappeased, murmured their acquiescence and departed. The lady watched them leave, then turned to another direction.

“Come,” she said again, when Intan made no move to follow. “We are not far now.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home,” replied Shulinaq. “To the village you called Redmoon.”

Intan picked up her feet. Of all things, she had suddenly remembered school protocol.

Complete the mission at all costs.

School protocol, or Dragon protocol? Or something else entirely?

The confusion frustrated her, then transformed into an abrupt, unspeakable anger.

She was not herself. She had not been herself for some time now. It had frightened her at first, but no longer.

Shulinaq’s actions angered her too, but in another way entirely. In a way that grieved her terribly.

To follow or not to follow. The choice had never been hers to make, but she would make it now anyway.

* * *

It was as Shulinaq had said. Within mere minutes of walking, Intan could see rundown houses peeking out from the trees. The village did not seem at all unusual at first glance.

Shulinaq stopped at one of the larger buildings on the outskirts. Intan wondered if it were the chief’s home, but there were other buildings closer to the central area.

“Hello, little ones,” called out Shulinaq, leaning past the entrance. “I’ve brought a new friend for you all.”

A mix of cheers and giggles sounded from inside. Out rushed a crowd of children of all ages and sizes, gathering around Intan, poking at her clothes, asking her questions.

Almost every child was marked with a head of white hair.

“This village...” murmured Intan.

Shulinaq drew close to her, face drawn and grim.

“Yes. It is as you see before you. We are the last descendants of the moon tribes.” The grimness of the lady’s expression softened. “And you, my child, are one of us.”