“The keepers had banded together to build a sort of platform, layering drift logs in alternating angles on top of one another. Leafy branches were torn down to provide cushioning over the bumpy logs. The resulting “raft” had not been sturdy, but there had been room for them to huddle together and commiserate while the mosquitoes and gnats feasted on them. There was no flat place to sleep, so Thymara had balanced her body on one of the wider logs. She had considered taking to the trees for the ni...ght but had finally decided to stay closer to the dragons and the other keepers. Every time she started to doze off, Alum’s dragon would trumpet mournfully and she’d rouse. Too many times that night, tears had followed. The small sounds she heard from the others on the raft told her that she was not alone in her fears. Toward morning, not even the sorrow and sounds, let alone the buzzing, bites, and branch nubs could keep Thymara alert any longer. She had dozed down past the nightmares and grief to a deep sleep and had awakened chill and stiff and damp with morning dew.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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