"Zerra, listen to me!" Mother cried from the pyre. "Banish us. Banish us to the escarpment. We will not hurt you. We—"

"You will burn and scream for me," Zerra said, his left eye blazing from his melted flesh. "You are lower than one who lies with pigs. You will squeal."

You screamed, Laira thought. You squealed.

She had seen it five days ago. She had dreamed it every night since. She knew those nightmares would fill her forever. The memory pounded through her, shaking her bones.

While the men had hunted upon their rocs, Mother had taken Laira into the woods to gather berries, nuts, and mushrooms. Mother's amulet gleamed around her neck, a silver talisman bearing the sigil of Taal, a god of their old home across the sea, a god unknown to any others in this northern hinterland. Past a grove of birches they had found a pond, a place of water lilies, golden leaves, and mist. It was a secret place, a perfect place. A place for dark magic.

The curse always itched within Laira and her mother. The disease forever cried for release. They stepped into the pool, submerged themselves in the water . . . and shifted.

Hidden underwater, Laira opened her eyes, and between algae and the roots of lilies, she saw Mother change. White scales flowed across her body, the color of moonlight, and wings unfurled from her back. Her body grew, becoming almost as large as a roc, slick and graceful and thin. Laira changed too, letting the curse raise golden scales across her. Her wings stirred the water, and she blasted sparks from her mouth.

Their claws rested on the pool's floor. Their tails braided together. Their heads—long, scaled, and horned—rose to the surface. Nostrils and eyes emerged into the air. Men called it a curse, but to Laira it felt so good. This felt more like her natural form than the scrawny, raven-haired girl she was at their camp. Scaled and winged, a golden dragon, Laira felt whole. She felt true. Looking around the forest, she tried to imagine flapping her wings and flying, seeing mountains, forests, and rivers from high above, so high nobody could hurt her.

"Why must we hide?" she asked, sticking her snout over the water. Lilies tangled around her teeth. "They say that other cursed ones live at the escarpment in the north. They say it's safe. They say Zerra's own twin brother hides there, cursed with the same disease."

Mother blasted smoke from her nostrils. Her eyes narrowed. As a dragon, her voice sounded deeper, stronger, almost musical. "There are no others, Laira. That's only a myth. The world is cold and large and empty. The lone wolf perishes. The pack survives. The tribe of Goldtusk is our home, and Zerra is a kind master."

"A master who would slay us if he knew our secret!" Laira said. "I hate hiding. I hate this curse. Why did you have to give me this disease? You infected me." Tears burned in her eyes. "If I must be a dragon, let me fly. Let me be free. I won't cower in the water."