"Tanin!" Smoke looked ready to plume from Maev's ears. She leaped, shifted again, and flew up toward her brother. She landed atop the canyon, shifted back into human form, and barreled into him, knocking him down.

Jeid grunted and flew after them. When he reached the canyon's edge, he resumed human form and stomped toward the wrestling siblings. Birches, oaks, and elms grew around them, hiding them from any rocs that might dare fly above. The escarpment sloped down to the south, leading to forested hills, valleys, and finally the river where they fished for bass and trout. Beyond that river lay the towns and villages of those who hunted them—a forbidden realm.

"Enough!" Jeid bellowed. He grabbed each of his children by the collar and lifted them up. They dangled in his grip, still trying to punch one another. "Stop your bickering, children, or I'll bang your heads together like melons."

"Ow!" said Tanin, struggling in his father's grip. "What did I do?" The young man was twenty-five and tall and strong, yet in his father's grip he seemed like a bear cub.

"You will stop tormenting your sister!" Jeid said. "And you will sway her away from this nonsense."

He tossed both his children down in disgust. They fell into a pile of fallen leaves, rose to their feet, and brushed their woolen clothes and fur cloaks.

"Well . . ." Tanin stared at his feet and kicked around a pine cone. "I sort of . . . agreed to go with her."

Jeid's eyes widened. "You what?" he bellowed. "I expect some nonsense from Maev." He ignored her protests. "But you, Tanin? I thought you were better than this."

Tanin finally dared raise his eyes. "You taught me to be a smith, Grizzly. You taught me to forge copper, tin, and bronze." He gestured at the wide, bronze sword that hung on his hip. "And then you shifted into a dragon. You let the town see you. And we had to flee here. Now I roam around from town to town, juggling raven skulls and dancing like a trained bear—a blind, clumsy bear with gammy legs." Tanin sighed, took his bronzed raven skulls out of his pockets, and tossed them as far as they'd go. "You spoke of creating a tribe—a tribe of weredragons, a tribe called Requiem after my sister. You even gave us a fancy name—Vir Requis." Tanin gestured around him. "Well, I don't see a tribe. I see a gruff, hairy grizzly bear . . . and I see my father." He winked at Maev.

With a growl, Maev leaped onto her brother again, wrestling him down and punching. This time Jeid did not try to stop them. He clenched his fists, lowered his head, and the pain cut through him.

"You're right," he said, his voice so soft he barely heard himself.

The siblings, however, paused from wrestling. They stared up at him, eyes wide.

Pain clutched at Jeid's chest to remember that day, that horrible day Zerra, his own twin, had seen him shift into a dragon. Zerra had shouted the news across their town of Oldforge, raging that his brother was diseased. Jeid had fled into the wilderness that day. Zerra had left Oldforge too—he joined a roaming tribe of roc riders and dedicated himself to hunting weredragons.