She looked for a second at the hand I held out, then examined my face closely. I had to steel myself to keep from shadowing, so piercing was her gaze. I felt naked before her, as if she’d immediately stripped away all the outer layers of my being and was looking directly into my soul. “You share a dreaming with wintiki, the night bird,” she said, suddenly hugging me.

I was surrounded in the warmth of her being and felt immediately welcomed into something that seemed to encompass both her and the earth itself. “I do? I hope that’s good.”

Kaawa laughed. “It is rare for a nonindigenous person to share a dreaming. It is a good sign.”

“Then I’m very pleased,” I said, glancing at Gabriel. He stood watching us with a rather somber expression. “Although I’m not quite sure I understand what exactly a dreaming is. I thought it was the same as the shadow world.”

“Dreaming can be many things,” she said, putting her arm around me and escorting me to the fire, where three other people stood waiting. “Generally it is the story of origins, of how things came to be. But in your world, it can also mean an existence beyond the mortal plain. It is all that, and more. Do not attempt to understand it all; just simply accept that it is.”

“That sounds like very wise advice.”

“This is Adobi, Maka, and Pari,” she said, introducing the three men who greeted me with big smiles and firm handshakes. “They are fellow rangers from the local area. Before them, I name you daughter, and so shall you be known to all. Gabriel, I think you remember Pari from—what on earth?”

She had turned to face him and obviously just noticed the red stripes he bore on his sides. I felt my face flush and had to fight to keep from shadowing as she marched over to examine the markings.

“These are mating marks,” she said, straightening up. “Dragon mating marks. I thought you said your wintiki was a shadow walker?”

A small fire broke out at my feet. The three men, dressed in identical dusty khaki shirts and shorts, looked askance and stepped back a few paces as I stomped it out.

“There was a situation with the Lindorm Phylactery,” Gabriel said slowly, glancing briefly at the three others.

“You may speak in front of them. They will not carry tales,” his mother said, pulling him toward the fire.

He took my hand and pulled me with him. One of the rangers, the oldest, a man with gray hair and wise brown eyes, waved his hand toward a camp stool.

“Thank you, I’m fine,” I murmured, and carefully perched myself on a beat-up plastic cooler that was evidently also used as a seat.

“I think you’d better tell me about it,” Kaawa said, and offered us both coffee.