Croak woke up to the sound of snoring.
He let out a face-splitting yawn and rubbed his eyes. Once he’d blinked away the morning blurriness from his vision he stared around in confusion. Brightly coloured blankets and pillows were strewn about the room in a giant mess, and Slag lay curled up beside him snoring loudly.
All at once the events of the previous day came rushing back to him. The SeaWing Prince’s funeral, travelling to the MudWing Palace, overhearing murderous voices from under a Palace door, their escape, and presenting their investigation to Queen Moorhen.
Overwhelmed by the combined anxiety of all the events from the previous day, Croak covered his face with his talons and pressed his eyes shut. Slag continued to snore loudly beside him, and Croak concentrated on it, finding it oddly comforting.
After several deep breaths, Croak’s body settled back into a quiet state. He lifted his head again and took in the room anew. The candles on the walls were nearly burnt out, no longer resembling candles, but blobs of melted wax.
It must be morning. Croak thought.
Almost as if he had summoned it, he heard a soft knocking on the door before it opened and a Palace guard stuck her head in. “Breakfast is ready. I’ll be waiting outside the door if you need some more time to wake up.” She said in a whisper, noticing Slag still unconscious in a pile of pillows.
“Thank you, we’ll be right out.” He answered her. She shut the door behind her with a soft click.
“Wake up,” he said to Slag. “Time for breakfast.” He hoped the mention of food would wake his friend from his sleep, but he continued to snore away.
He nudged Slag with his tail next, and wasn’t anymore successful. So he grabbed hold of Slag’s shoulders and gave him a good shake, finally managing to rouse him from his slumber. Slag’s head shot up and swung around the room, he had a look of deep confusion on his face.
“Where in the buffalo dung are we?” His morning voice was scratchy from having slept with his mouth open.
“Queen Moorhen’s Palace.”
“Oh yeah.” He blinked a few times, the confusion leaving his face. “We need to get out of here.” He said with a concerned twinge to his voice.
“I still don’t trust that Moorhen doesn’t know what’s going on.” Slag tapped his claws against the hard clay floor nervously. “And there’s what we overheard from the hallway too.” He whispered.
“Whoever is behind this isn’t happy about our investigation.” Tightness returned to grip Croak’s chest as he thought about what they heard while eavesdropping.
‘We need to get rid of them before they find out too much.’ That can only mean one thing. He thought nervously.
A look of determination entered Slag’s eyes. “They might not like it, but we aren’t going to be scared off. We’re going to find out who murdered Prince Cerulean.”
Slag rose up from the mass of pillows he’d slept on and shook off the loose blankets he’d somehow gotten under.
“We need to go back to the Delta village and find out more about the drowned MudWing.” He started towards the door.
“Wait!” Slag’s hand paused, hovering over the door handle. “Can we at least go have breakfast before we leave?” Croak asked.
“Breakfast? How come you didn’t tell me there was breakfast?”
Croak felt rejuvenated after getting a night’s rest and a full belly of food. He had been impressed again by the variety of food the MudWing Queen had served for breakfast, enjoying several roasted quails and a large ostrich egg himself. He’d lost count of all the different things he’d seen disappear into Slag’s maws.
I still don’t understand how he can eat that much. He thought with a small smile on his face. It’s like his stomach is an endless pit.
After stuffing their faces they had excused themselves before the Queens and left to travel back to the MudWing village along the Diamond Spay River. Croak’s wings protested slightly from flying again, but the majority of his soreness had thankfully disappeared.
They soared over thick swamp forests that covered large areas of the Mud Kingdom. The branches of the trees grew in dense twisted knots that would make it impossible for a dragon to travel through, not that it would be pleasant trudging through the squishy marsh soil.
Glad to have wings. Even if they are uncooperative most of the time.
As Croak stared into the thick clumps of trees, he found that the chaos of it all was beautiful in its own way. The trees made homes for all sorts of birds and other small creatures. It created a small sanctuary for these creatures away from the dragon world.
If I were as small as a bird, I could just fly into a clump of trees and disappear. That’d be pretty nice right now. He thought longingly. The dragon-sized world felt too big and dangerous sometimes.
“Hey.” Slag flew up beside him and lightly brushed his wingtip against Croak’s. “You’ve been quiet all flight, are you feeling alright?” He asked.
“Yeah. I’ll be okay. I think.” He was unsuccessful at keeping his voice steady. “I’m just feeling freaked out about what we overheard. Do you think they’re going to follow us?”
“Probably, yeah.” Croak’s face twisted in worry at Slag’s response. “Don’t worry, I’d fight off a whole army if it came to it. We’ll keep each other safe.” He said, giving Croak a reassuring grin.
Croak could spot the MudWing village now, its distinctive clay houses rising up from the earth. He pushed his anxious thoughts to the back of his head as he and Slag flew into the village, heading straight for the village center and landing on the compact well-trodden path that snaked through the settlement.
“Do you remember which hut Fawn was leading us to?” He asked Slag, hoping he’d have a better memory. All of the tall curving houses looked too similar to Croak.
“Not a clue.” Slag answered, scratching the back of his neck as he peered around.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to stick their rumps back where they don’t belong.” A familiar voice sneered from behind them.
Croak spun around to see the soldier and his troop who had chased them away from the village the last time they’d been there.
Slag walked up to them confidently, meeting the group partway as they stalked toward them. He opened his cloth bag and plucked out the scroll Queen Moorhen had given them, and threw it to the feet of the soldiers.
The bigwings snatched the scroll in his talons and unfurled it clumsily with a questioning glare pointed at them.
His face contorted in concentration, then in quiet rage as he finished reading. Faced with the words of his Queen he had no choice but to let them continue their investigation. He threw the scroll back onto the path, “just don’t cause any trouble.” He hissed before continuing along the path with his troop, passing them without another glance.
“I guess they wouldn’t appreciate us asking for help?” Croak said with a nervous laugh.
“Definitely not.” Slag snorted.
Croak looked around them again, trying to find any familiar landmarks that would at least point them in the right direction. While searching, he caught sight of familiar dappled scales and called out, “Fawn!”
She looked around in confusion before spotting him and Slag. Her eyes widened, “what are you doing back here?” She called as she walked towards them.
“We got permission from Queen Moorhen herself to continue our investigation” He answered her.
“You went and talked to the Queen?!” She said in awe. “Is she as beautiful as everyone says?”
Croak felt his wingtips flush as he tried to recall the Queen’s beauty. “I, uh, yes, she was amazing.”
AMAZING? That’s the best you could come up with to describe the MudWing Queen?? Croak cringed inwardly.
Fawn’s eyes twinkled. “I hope I get to meet her someday.”
“Would you be able to help us find the siblings of the drowned MudWing again?” Slag asked.
She shook the dreamy look off her face. “Right, follow me. I’ll bring you to their hut.” They followed her down the village road, taking multiple turns down forks in the road. Croak was grateful to have been able to find Fawn, or else he and Slag might have wandered the village all day in search of the sibs’ hut.
“Here it is.” Fawn stopped in front of a hut with a large field stretching out behind it, a clump of cows were grazing on the thick swamp grass in a far corner of the field. “I’ve gotta run back to my troop, my sibs will be wondering where I’ve run off too.”
She turned and headed back in the direction that they’d come from. “Good luck with the investigation!” She called out with a wave of her wing.
Slag lifted a knuckle and tapped it against the wide door. Croak heard shuffling from inside and a voice called from inside, “Who is it?”
“Queen Coral’s Royal Investigators. We’d like to ask a few questions about your late sibling.” Slag said to the door.
The door swung open to three pairs of narrowed eyes. “What do you want to know about Sparrow?” The largest brown-greenish MudWing asked.
“We heard he drowned. Do you have any more details about the circumstances of his death?” Slag asked.
“He was drowned down the river, some ways from the village.” The MudWing’s eyes softened in sorrow as he remembered the death of his sibling. “Gar and the other soldiers in the village immediately blamed the drowning on the SeaWings,” he continued. “But when we found him, the riverbank only had MudWing talon prints.”
His face grew dark. “Any dragon in Pyrrhia could drown a MudWing. All it’d take is to hold their head underwater long enough. We all saw the talon prints in the riverbed.” His two siblings nodded in agreement.
“Do you think a MudWing killed Sparrow?” Croak asked, nearly in a whisper.
“I don’t think a SeaWing did it.”
Croak sat down beside the riverbed. His head was swarming with questions and theories. He let out a deep sigh and concentrated on the sounds of the water rushing past him.
Sparrow’s siblings had invited them into their home to rest their wings until they decided on their next course of action. Slag and him had discussed theories well into the night, but Croak still couldn’t wrap his mind around a MudWing drowning a member of their own tribe.
Unless they wanted it to seem like a SeaWing did it.
Slag had long since fallen asleep, but Croak couldn’t get his mind to rest. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the sounds of waves washing upon a rocky shore. Images of his home appeared faintly behind his eyelids. Croak’s thoughts stilled somewhat and he slowly felt a wave of calm wash over his mind.
Suddenly a cloth bag was thrown over his head. It muffled the startled scream that made its way out his mouth.
Croak felt something hit his head hard and his mind stilled completely as darkness washed over him.
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