Finally, as the sunlight faded to orange, then red, Barius called a halt. He pointed to a large pair of trees.

“We make camp here. Riana, you and the goblin will gather wood for a fire while Darnak and I discuss a plan for dispatching the dragon Straum.”

He made Straum sound like nothing more than a nuisance. A carrion-worm to be chased out of the kitchens, rather than a creature of legend that could kill with a single breath.

Jig kept an ear cocked back as they searched for firewood. He couldn’t hear well enough to make out what was being said, but he wanted to make sure he didn’t get turned about and lose his way. As long as he could hear their voices, he could get back to the others. How did people get around without walls to guide them? Why, he could go in any direction he chose, turn left or right at random. The trees looked alike, the ground was the same everywhere, and were it not for the low voices behind him, Jig would have been lost already.

This must be why Darnak spends so much time on his map. If the others were as disoriented underground as Jig was here, no wonder they needed to note the way out.

He glanced into the sky and received another shock. The sun had moved! Before, it had been directly overhead, but in the past few hours it had traveled to the very edge of the sky. How could they find their way when even the sky shifted position?

Riana had stopped to watch a bird circle overhead. When she didn’t move, Jig looked up as well. Following the wide flight made him dizzy, and he wondered if real birds ever felt nauseous. Did Jig and the others seem as small from up there as the bird did to him? Did the bird feel free, able to go anywhere it chose?

“I wonder what it’s like.”

He didn’t realize he had spoken out loud until Riana spat. “I’m sure it’s great. You can fly anywhere, right up until some hunter turns his trained falcon loose to break your back and bring you down.”

She stomped off, Jig following close behind to make sure he didn’t lose sight of her. So much for birds. When she began to gather wood, he picked a tree at random, drew his sword, and chopped at one of the lower branches. The impact jolted his fingers and forearm. Trees were tougher than he thought. He drew back for another swing.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting wood.” He saw her expression and hesitated.

Riana shook her head with exasperation. “A fat lot of good that will do. You don’t use green wood for a fire unless you want to make a smoke-tail.”

“A what?”