Page 5 of Red Marked

We finally come across a huge feral sunning himself on a rock shelf at the edge of the foothills. He’s in the air the second Saber’s shadow crosses him. Three of us bring him down quickly.

We’re getting better at this already.

We knock him out with just one dart. Cindy runs the scanner, and the screen flashes red.

RELEASE.

“Crap!” Rex mutters, shifting back into his dragon form.

Brian brands him fast. We go through the motions and are back in the air in no time at all.

I decide to head in a different direction from this morning. I want to get the lay of the land so that we can plot where the highest density of ferals is in this vast jungle.

We push toward the mountains, and the jungle thins. There’s nothing much out here. Nothing but birds and the odd deer. I turn along the base of the range, close enough that the peaks throw long shadows over the trees, and still nothing breaks cover.

It’s almost eerie.

I’m tempted to change direction. Something tells me to push on for a little longer.

We should have found two more by now. Three, if this morning is any measure. What the hell is going on?

Atlas pulls level with my wing and gives me a look. He’s noticed it too.

The mountains rise sheer on our left, too steep for even us dragons to scale. We follow the line of them until the rock splits into a ravine, cutting back into the range.

I turn in for a look. There has to be something here.

A few of the others are with me. The rest trail behind.

We round a corner and see ten, maybe twelve dragons on ledges and the narrow stretch of ground below. Every one of them takes to the air the second we appear in the opening.

They’re smaller than any male I’ve seen out here. Narrower through the chest, wings tapered at the tip. Two of them near the front of the group scramble into the sky. There is no red on their scales at all. Nothing. Not even a speck.

What the fuck?!

My dragon lunges after them before I can stop him. Atlas and Rift do too, closing the gap fast, and I get one clear look at pale gray-green scales with none of the color that marks every Mistveil dragon born on this side of the water. They swerve into a sharp bend as the ravine narrows further.

I call the chase off with a screech.

We have no idea what’s around that turn. It could be a trap.

My dragon fights me now that we’re on the hunt. He wants them in his sights, wants answers, and right fucking now.

I have to fight him down hard in order to get us back toward open ground.

I screech again, and Atlas does too.

We land and shift.

“Those were females.” I’m still catching my breath, still half-convinced my eyes lied to me. “All of them. Two were Draig dragons. They didn’t have any markings. Did you see that?” I ask Atlas, who nods.

Rift wipes sweat from her brow. “I saw it too. They looked female, all of them, and two were Draigers, for sure.”

“How can that be?” Atlas is frowning. “There’s nothing on this side of the jungle but feral males. At least, that’s what we’ve always been told.”

“Females can’t possibly survive here,” Rift says. “Not even a group of them.”

“Exactly.” Atlas nods. “I know Draig females were kidnapped and brought here by ferals all those months ago, but that can’t be them. Do you know about this?” he asks me.