“Thank you,” he managed at last. He looked away from the man’s earnest gaze. “I must seem a coward to you. Or an incompetent idiot.”

“Neither one, I assure you. I won’t be long. I’m leaving the water with you. It’s all we’ve got right now, so go as easy on it as you can.”

“It’s all we’ve got? Why did you let me drink so much?” Sedric was horrified.

“Because you needed it. Now, let me go get Relpda some nice rotten elk, and then I’ll be back. Maybe I’ll still have enough light to go up the trees and look for more food for us.”

“Jess—” Sedric halted his words. He’d nearly told him that Jess had found fruit nearby. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Don’t mention the other hunter.

“What?”

“Just be careful.”

“Oh, I’m always that. I’ll be back soon enough.”

THE WATER HAD gone down. There was still plenty of dead fish to eat. It wasn’t fresh, but it was filling. She wasn’t dead. At least, not yet.

Sintara shifted her weight. Her feet were sore from the constant immersion. The water was less acid than it had been, but her claws still felt soft, as if they were decaying. And she had never had less hope for herself.

She, Sintara, a dragon who should have ruled the sea, the sky, and the land, had been picked up and tumbled head over heels like a rabbit struck by a hawk. She’d floundered and gasped. She’d clung to a log like a drowning rat. “No dragons have ever endured what we have,” she said. “None has ever sunk so low.”

“There is nothing ‘low’ about survival,” Mercor contradicted her. As always, his voice was calm, almost placid. “Think of it as experience hard won, Sintara. When you die and are eaten, or when your young hatch from the egg, they will carry forward your memories of this time. No hardship endured is a loss. Someone will learn from it. Someone profits from it.”

“Someone is tired of your philosophizing,” scarlet Ranculos grumbled. He coughed, and Sintara smelled blood. She moved closer to him. Among the dragons, his injury was the most serious. Something had struck his ribs as he tumbled in the flood. She could sense the pain he felt with every breath. For the most part, their scaled bodies had protected them. Sestican had a bruised wing that ached when he tried to open it. Veras complained of a burned throat from swallowing acid water. The lesser bruises that they all had scarcely seemed worth mentioning. They were dragons. They would heal.