Island of Dragons (Unwanteds #7)(29)

Henry leaned forward, intrigued. “What are the dangers?” he asked.

“If you look at a hibagon, you’ll fall in love with him.” Lhasa tittered.

“Ugh!” cried Henry. “That would be horrible! Once you fall in love with him, does his stink go away?”

“I don’t know,” said Talon, “for I assure you I’ve never looked long at him again.”

“Ah,” said Florence, “but what an awful curse to have. Poor hibagon. He seemed kind enough to warn you.”

“He is kind, indeed,” said Talon. “But very uncomfortable around anyone. He soon dashed off into the woods, leaving us wondering about his origins. When I ran across him again some weeks later, he asked me about Issie. He said he knew of her from his world. She was as notorious as he.”

Henry frowned. “He’s from another world? And so is Issie?”

“So it seems, although Issie has never spoken enough to confirm it,” said Talon. “It’s a mystery to all of us. Both the hibagon and Issie are famous elsewhere, though we know not what for.”

“Did you ever find out how the hibagon got here?” asked Florence.

Talon gazed at her. “Eventually. He told me about his home in a forest, which grew high in the mountains. It was much like Lhasa imagined it—a peaceful place unharmed by outsiders. Only the occasional hibagon hunters passed through, trying to catch him, but those instances were few, and years passed between them, so the hibagon felt safe in his land . . . that is, until one fateful day.”

Henry’s eyes widened. The fire crackled, making him jump.

Talon went on. “The hibagon heard strange noises in the distance, so he hid inside a hollow of an old dead tree as usual. But the noises grew louder, closer. Days passed, but the hibagon was comfortable, and he went out at night to eat, staying close to his tree.

“But soon animals began bounding past his hiding spot, fleeing. The noises grew even louder, and it was as if the hibagon could hear the trees crying out. He could stay hidden no longer—he had to see what was happening to cause such unrest in his peaceful land.

“That’s when he discovered the humans. They weren’t searching to capture him this time. Instead they were chopping down his trees, bundling them up, and loading them on huge moving machines, leaving an ugly scar on the forest bed. Horrified, the hibagon drew closer and closer to the human camp, hiding behind trees, until a human saw him and gave chase.

“The hibagon raced around the machines, and when he was sure no one was watching, he dove into the nearest bundle of logs and squirmed deep inside, intending to wait until nightfall so he could escape. He listened to the humans laugh at the man who had claimed to see a hibagon, and then the work began again, with trees falling all around. The hibagon was devastated. Sickened! He had to get out of there.

“As the day wore on, the hibagon felt his bundle of logs move, and before he could do anything, he was being lifted high into the air. He crawled to the end of the bundle to get a better look at what was happening, but soon the end was pushed up against a hot metal surface, and the hibagon could no longer see. He couldn’t turn around, and he couldn’t risk backing out from between the logs during daylight, so he remained still. But soon the logs were moving once more, this time on a bumpy journey that lasted hours. When finally the journey seemed to end, the logs were lifted into the air once more and set down again.

“Able to see at last, the hibagon soon discovered that he’d been loaded onto a freighter. The ship left the docks and sailed for days, and the hibagon found very few moments throughout the journey where he could emerge from his hiding place and sneak food, for sailors patrolled the decks at all hours. He nearly died of thirst on the journey, and would have if it hadn’t been for the rain. As the rain soaked the logs and dripped down, the hibagon drank every drop he could.”

Talon paused. “Unfortunately, the rain turned into a violent storm. After many hours of rocking, and waves coming up over the deck, the ship went into a sharp spiral. The hibagon lost consciousness, and when he woke, the ship was gone. He was alone on the sea, trapped inside the bundle of logs. More days passed, and finally the hibagon’s bundle of logs floated here.” Talon folded his hands in his lap.

“Wow,” said Henry. “What a story!”

“That’s incredible,” said Florence, shaking her head in awe.

“Yes it is,” said Lhasa. “And now the hibagon lives peacefully here among the trees, away from the dropbears, of course. And away from Vido the golden rooster—the hibagon can’t stand Vido and all his strange warnings and senseless proverbs.”

“Can Vido fly?” asked Henry.

“I assume so,” said Lhasa, with a musical laugh, “or he couldn’t have made it to the tallest tree in the center of the island. But I have never seen him fly. Have you, Talon?”

“Not even once, Queen Lhasa. Perhaps he flies in secret.”

“Ha-ha!” The snow lion rolled through the air and shook her mane. “Oh, I’m just so delighted to have visitors, and so grateful that Karkinos is feeling better. It’s pure goodness to laugh again. How generous of you all to rescue us! We shall never forget the kindness of Artimé.”





Making Masterpieces


Back in Artimé, Ms. Octavia knew that wings for something as fierce and beautiful as a dragon had to be made of only the finest material, and when she ran into Crow with Thisbe and Fifer near the shore, she had her answer. For it happened that there was a garden of magical flowers on the lawn, and Thisbe loved to pluck their petals because new petals of different colors emerged immediately following. There was only one problem, and that was an abundance of flower petals to clean up. But Crow and the girls faithfully gathered the petals each time they were finished playing and brought them into the mansion’s kitchen to be used for table decorations and whatever else the chefs could think of.