“Not far now, Bren. That’s a good girl.” Maisie brushed a gloved hand over Bren’s neck. Hard, smooth ruby scales bulged beneath the thin layer of wool, and Maisie patted her dragon once, twice. Warmth radiated from Bren’s body, and Maisie was glad for the comfort her companion gave her.

Six days they had been travelling north, six nights of make-shift snow caves and dehydrated chicken strips—what she wouldn’t do for a nice hot bowl of freshly made tomato soup.

Snow-capped mountains had become a constant feature of the landscape. The jagged toothed peaks protruded from the ground far below, the sparse sprinkling of fur trees lost in the haze of swirling, grey clouds.

A numbing chill burned her cheeks, and Maisie tugged her woollen gaiter further up over her nose, pushing it under the rims of her leather goggles.

The cold had begun to harden Bren’s saddle, making it brittle and uncomfortable, and Maisie regretted using the last of her balsam wax to waterproof her boots. Fidgeting, Maisie repositioned her feet in the stirrups and tightened her hands on Bren’s reins.

Breath caught in Maisie’s throat. A blur of purple sprinkled the side of the mountainside, a delicate kiss of colour against the blinding white.

Maisie patted Bren’s neck. “See them, Bren?” she asked, and the dragon blew a plume of hot air from her mouth. “They’re Bitter Lilacs.” she whispered, “It means we’re close.”

An hour passed, and sightings of the Bitter Lilacs increased until the very mountaintops looked like the Goddess herself had dipped each one in the most vibrant of wines. Even through the shield of her gaiter, Maisie could smell the sweet, floral tang of the Lilacs.

Maisie leant forward in her saddle, the leather groaning under her weight.

“Should we go a little lower?”

Bren swung her head left, and Maisie jolted, her boot slipping from one of the stirrups.

“Steady, girl! Hey! We don't have to, it—”

Without warning, Bren dived, her red, blazing wings tucked tight into her side.

“Bren!” Maisie screamed. Icy wind whipped the fabric of her coat, pulled at the cords of her rucksack. Her hat blew off and vanished into the blank void. “What are you doing! Bren! Go up! Go up!”

The dragon spiralled. Maisie tugged on the reins, squeezed the heels of her boots into the soft of Bren’s belly, but still, she descended.

A volcanic roar erupted from Bren’s jaws, vibrating through her body and sparks of golden flame spurted out, sizzling into choking black ash.

“No, no, no! Quiet!” Maisie hissed, “You’ll start a….”

The world seemed to slow down, and goosebumps—that had nothing to do with the cold—prickled Maisie’s skin. Static buzzed. The a deep rumble convulsed through the air. Convulsed the ground. Convulsed through Maisie’s whole being.

An avalanche.

White powder burst from below. Bren roared as the force thrust her upwards. Maisie flew back, her hands slipped, and the reins slid from her grasp. Pain snapped through her thigh, and she tumbled, falling.

The last thing Maisie saw before her body hit the ground was the brown curve of the saddle above her, the broken girth beating like the taunting, leathery wings of a bat.

-

Maisie blinked. Darkness consumed her sight, and a biting chill pinched at her lungs.

Hadn’t it been daytime before?

Maise shivered. Something wet clung to her mouth, pulling tight around her face.

Hadn’t she been in the air...on something?

Her head rolled back, heavier than lead, smacking into something hard, uncomfortable.

Silence howled, a haunting whistle in her ears. She tried to move, to wiggle her toes, her fingers, anything, but nothing shifted—

they didn’t even feel cold. If anything, she felt a little warm.

Hadn't she fallen into snow?

A dull ache pulsed behind her eyes—the steady beat of a ticking clock—and she so desperately wanted to go to sleep, to curl up next to...to someone.

Who was missing?

She couldn't think. Nothing made sense or maybe did it, and she was simply tired. Yes, that was it. Tired. She would take a nap, rest up, and when she woke, everything would make—

“You do not have long. I can feel it.”

Maisie thought the voice had been a dream, a cruel illusion of words, but the voice spoke again, and a blast of icy-blue light flickered from above. “Sleep now, child.”

Glistening snow surrounded Maisie in a cocoon of frozen ice, burying her deep, deep down—so why did she feel so hot?

“Save me,” Maisie slurred, her words no more than a jumble of noise, a vibration of her lips.

“Why?”

“Please,” she said weakly.

The light above flickered, and the shadow of a shape grew. A sweet aroma—a scent she knew—a floral tang wafted from the darkness.

The smell of Bitter Lilacs

“Goddess Morana,” Maisie said, “Please.”

“You know me?”

Yes, she thought she did. No, she knew she did. Hadn’t it been the reason why her and...and…someone had—

“Yes,” Maisie said, her eyes stinging, brimming with unknown tears. “Yes, I know you. Your… your story… your br.. brother’s something, his…his...”

“His betrayal?” Goddess Morana offered. How kind.

“Yes. I came...find you. We… we need you.”

“We?”

“The kingdom.” Maisie mumbled, “Your...your sister. Queen Tana. Please!”

Arms reached around Maisie’s head. She watched through blurred goggles as the snow dispersed, disappearing in formed clumps of white. One after the other, the chunks flew into the air and steadily, her shoulders reappeared.

Although she couldn't feel it, Maisie knew the woman—Goddess Morana—had lifted her from the cage of ice. A blanket of silver wrapped around her shoulders, and cradled in the Goddess’ arms, Maisie scanned the onyx sky.

Stars scattered the black, but something—no, someone—was missing.

“Where’s my Bren?” Maisie mumbled.

“Safe.” Goddess Morana said, “For now.”