We woke at dawn the next morning, with the other Blesseds in our room. For the first time in a while, I felt well rested—fully awake and ready for whatever the day would bring. We were quickly getting close to the end of our quest.

I hurriedly got dressed and packed up the few things I'd taken out of my bag. While doing so, I noticed that our bad jerky and stale bread had been replaced by the real deal. Dried fruit, hard-baked biscuits, meat that—when I tried a small bite of it—actually tasted like dried meat was supposed to taste. A medium sized rock was nestled beneath it all, and when I touched it, it unfurled into a perfect replica of a deathbird. Sharla had to have helped with the packing. I'd need to thank her before we left.

We met Sharla outside our room.

"I'm here to guide you to the dining hall," she told us. "We don't want you getting lost on the day you're supposed to be leaving, do we?"

Lark laughed. "No, we don't."

"Thank you for repacking our packs," I interjected. "We really appreciate it."

Lark looked at Sharla with an expression of amazement. "It was you who did that?"

"Yeah," said Sharla, grinning. "Dren told me that, when he'd brought the packs here, he'd noticed how horrible the food inside them had been. I thought you might want something better."

"Well, thank you," I said again.

Sharla shook her head. "No need to thank me. Those provisions were ridiculous. Anyway, I've been looking for an excuse to get into the private food stores for a while. I should really be the one thanking you."

With a soft laugh, Lark said, "Glad we could help."

Sharla nodded, turning a sharp corner and nearly running directly into Reed, Bran, and Dren.

"Watch where you're going!" Dren snapped.

"Sorry," said Sharla.

Reed turned to look at us, eyes moving to check that we had our packs. "Are you ready to go after breakfast?"

Lark nodded; I said, "We are."

"Look at this," said Bran. He held out his hand to us. In it was a rock, which uncurled to become a long, slender snake. "I'm naming it Cliff." He turned to Sharla. "It's one of yours, right?"

Sharla nodded.

He smiled. "Thanks."

"So you made one for all of us?" I asked.

Sharla grinned. "Yup."

I turned to Reed. "What's yours?"

He didn't answer. Sharla cackled.

"Come on," said Lark. "Show us. It can't be that bad."

Slowly, he held out his hand. A small pebble sat in his hand. Wings unfurled from its back, revealing a small body, short, thin legs, and antennae.

"Oh," said Bran disappointedly. "That's a butterfly. I thought it would be something bad."

Lark frowned. "Like what?"

Bran shrugged. "I dunno. A simple, unmagical rock. A tree. A reed."

"That would have been funny," Sharla admitted. "Now I wish I'd consulted you."

Reed glared at us all. "Ha ha. Hilarious."

"Oh, come on," said Lark. "It's just a butterfly. It's not that bad."

"If I blew on it, it would break." He turned to Sharla. "I don't mean to be rude, though."

"Nah, it's fine." She held out her hand. "Can I see?"

He handed it to her. Without hesitation, she hurled it at the floor.

"Hey!" cried Reed, quickly kneeling down and picking the butterfly back up in his cupped hands. Gently, he prodded it with a finger to see if it was still intact. "Don't break it!"

"I thought you didn't like it," said Bran.

"It's mine now. I've got to take care of it."

"It's fine," said Sharla. "It's made of rock."

"So?" I asked. "Rock can break, can't it?"

"Not when I've been messing with it. I know how to strengthen it so it won't break." She turned to Reed, who was still peering suspiciously at the insect as it walked slowly toward the tip of his thumb. "It'll be fine. It's not even broken." She reached out to poke it again, but Reed pulled it back.

"Don't," he said.

"It's not like it can feel it."

Reed glared at her so fiercely, she took a slow step back. "Oookay. Fine. Just don't get too attached. It's not like it can care back."

Ignoring her, he tucked the butterfly into a pocket.

Dren said, "We'd better hurry, or we'll be late for breakfast."

"Right," said Sharla. "Sorry. Let's go."

After breakfast, we said our final goodbyes to our friends, and headed to the upper deck of the ship with Leith.

A glorious sunset greeted us. Rays of light spilled through the trees like water through a colander. All the colors of the rainbow streaked across the sky. Pink clouds skudded quickly to the side—or at least, they appeared to. For all I know, we were the ones moving, and they were standing perfectly still.

"So," Leith said. "Are you ready?"

I nodded, as did Lark and Bran.

Reed said, "We're ready."

Leith smiled. "Great. Firstly, the most important thing to remember is this: do not panic. If you're scared of heights, keep your eyes fixed on the sky, or the ship. My mistlings are strong, but if you struggle hard enough, they may drop you." He turned to Bran. "You're the one I'm most worried about. If you use your powers to destroy them, like you did on the ground, the end result will not be good."

"Can I suggest something?" I asked.

"Sure," said Leith. "Go for it."

"I can control deathbirds. If I keep a few very close to Bran at all times, I should be able to catch him if he falls." I frowned. "Actually, it might be simpler to just have the birds carry him from the beginning."

"I don't like that idea," said Bran. "Weird as it is, I felt much more safe being carried by the... mistlings, than I did while being carried by your birds."

I shrugged. "Do whatever you feel most comfortable with."

Bran turned to Leith. "Your mistlings can carry me. If—for whatever reason—that plan fails, Fyra's birds can take over."

Slowly, Leith nodded, shifting his gaze to Lark and Reed. "And the two of you are okay with that?"

Reed made a non-commital noise.

"It's not really our choice," said Lark. "It should be up to Bran."

"Okay," said Leith. "Sounds great. You're ready, then?"

Again, Reed nodded.

"Farewell," said Leith.

Mist began to rise around him as he lifted his hands, and it solidified into a crowd of beings. I resisted the urge to fight against them as they grabbed my arms and legs and carried me slowly off the ship.

There were no clouds for us to go through this time. The mistlings slowly lowered us through the air, finally setting us down in an empty clearing, giving us each a polite nod, and melting away into nothingness.

There was a short silence. I looked up.

Had the cloud ship not been one of the only clouds in the sky, it would have been nearly impossible to find. It looked perfectly normal from the bottom. Still, as I watched, a non-existent wind seemed to push it forward faster, moving it quickly forward until it dipped behind the trees at the edge of the clearing.

"So," said Reed, his voice shattering the silence that had settled around us, "are we ready to start walking?"

Bran groaned. "There's going to be a lot of that, isn't there?"

"Walking?" I asked. "Probably. Leith said the Magician was only a few day's walk away, though."

"That's still a few days full of walking."

I grinned. "If you want, my birds can fly you."

He shook his head emphatically. "No. Definitely not."

"Then let's get going," said Reed. "We've got a long day ahead of us."

Vote on this chapter if you want one of Sharla's rock creatures! (I won't actually be able to get you one, though. Sorry about that.)