by Dawn Napier
As they drew closer to the Island of Dogs, Megan saw the reason for the cold. The rain over the island had expanded and gotten heavier, and the sky ahead was blanketed with coal-grey clouds. It was like looking into the dark shadows of a forest's edge. Anything at all could be lurking in there, just out of sight. Megan veered off and circled the storm. Cold wind and rain blasted down from the grey-black thunderheads, and she could feel it glancingly, like a cold mist.
"Come on!" Jack shouted in her ear. "It's not safe to stay in one place for long."
But I hate being cold, she whined inside her head. She hated the chill, hated the rain, hated it in a primal, frightened way that reminded her of a small child hiding from a storm.
In the two years between the divorce and the foreclosure, the heat in the old house had been shut off at least four times, either because Mom had forgotten to pay the bill or Dad had smoked away the child support. It never stayed off for more than a day or two, but those few days were burned into Megan's mind as though by a cattle brand. Once Mom had forced Megan to take a bath while the gas was shut off, and they’d had no hot water. "Tomorrow is Picture Day, and you need to be clean!" Mom had shouted, and Megan had been too afraid to argue. "I do not want anyone to look at you and see dirty white trash!"
Those ten minutes she'd spent huddled in two inches of ice-cold water, shivering and scrubbing and crying, had been the longest ten minutes of her life. It was one of those childhood memories for which she would never forgive her mother.
"I know." Jack's voice was low and warm in her ear. "I was there. But you need to go down there. It's important."
Megan growled, but his was the voice of reason. This wasn't the first time her pet clown had played this role. She bared her teeth, steeled her nerves, and swung in under the rainstorm.
It was just as bad as she'd feared. The rain thudded down like a freezing curtain, and she whimpered. She flew low over the beach, and the bedraggled, miserable dogs looked up at her. Their eyes were large and mournful, but they still lifted their muzzles and snarled as she flew past. Poor things. Unloved and unloving. How had the lovely little island of her dreams turned into this?
She flew further inland, and soon she found a tight cluster of trees that might serve as shelter. She dropped down in a clumsy landing that almost twisted her rear leg, and she skidded in the cold mud. It splashed her face and covered her chest and wings in chilly cold. Ah God, she hated this so much.
She couldn't quite fit her body under the trees, but she was able to get her head underneath, and the water no longer poured into her eyes. Jack Benimble hopped off her neck and landed neatly on the ground next to her. Somehow, not a single drop of mud landed on his rainbow motley. Megan thought she might like to bite his head off for that.
"All right," she said carefully. Her mouth hurt. Her teeth were too big, and they cut into her jaws. "What's so important about this place? And what did you do with Paige?"
Jack looked up at her sideways. "I'm not responsible for any of this. I never was. It wasn't my idea to take your daughter."
"You taunted me about it. You told me I was no better than you for taking her and Jenna away from Sarah." Megan's heart was a dull stone. She was too cold and tired to be angry.
"I spoke the words that were written out for me. I didn't have a choice."
Megan sighed. She had no patience for this joker's riddles. "Just say what you want. I need to find Paige."
"I'm not responsible for Paige's disappearance. Someone took her, and she used me because of my connection to you."
"Then who took her?" Now his words were sinking in, and Megan started paying attention.
"I can't say her name. I can't even give a hint or play twenty questions. The story is very carefully written."
"Was it—was it Sarah?" If the woman really was dead, maybe Megan was dealing with a vengeful spirit?
"I'm sorry."
Could Sarah have somehow gained access to Far Faraway? It seemed so ridiculous, but the whole premise was ridiculous. Megan was dressed in a dragon's skin and talking to her childhood imaginary friend. Everything was up in the air right now.
"Is it this other person who made me a dragon? How did this happen to me?"
"You were to be a sacrifice to the Beast Below, but your mind was able to alter the meaning of the story. It's complicated."
"So I was supposed to die in that cave?"
"You were supposed to die several times, but then you kept changing the story. It's a testament to your imagination that you've been able to survive so much."
"My imagination."
"You did what I told you. You fell back down the rabbit hole. The dogs would have killed you otherwise, or you would have drowned in the ocean, or the trolls would have raped and strangled you. But you've made it this far, and the further you go the stronger you'll get."
Megan didn't feel strong. Though her body was roughly the size of a school bus at the moment, she felt weak and tired, and God damn it, she was freezing cold. She wanted to lie down in the mud and take a long, long nap.
"Shit, you're a reptile," Jack said. "I didn't think of this. We need to warm you up."
Megan yawned. Her belly felt briefly warm, then it cooled again. She was really, really sleepy.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me. We've got to start a fire." Jack looked around frantically. The rain thudded down like stones, and everything around them was soaked through.
"Come on. There's a cave nearby. It will be dry inside."
Megan sat down. Her head drooped, and her eyes slipped closed.
"Megan, you'll never get your kid back if you're going to be such a lazy bitch."
Huh? Megan's eyes opened.
"Paige is gone, and she's never coming back, and here you are taking a nap. She's going to live forever and eat sweets, get fat, and she'll never even miss you because you're not her real mother!"
Megan bared her teeth and shoved herself to her feet. Jack danced from foot to foot and flipped her the bird with both hands. "Big fucking weakling, look at you. You think you can get your daughter back? You can't even walk!"
She understood what he was up to, and behind the anger she was grateful to him. But her guts blazed with anger at his hurtful words—some of them close to words she had spoken silently in her own mind, late at night when the house was asleep—and she wanted to chomp his head off and set fire to his body. She staggered after him, savoring the fire of fury in her belly. She felt more awake the angrier she got. She felt like she'd taken a double shot of whiskey, and it burned so good.
Jack skipped backwards up a tree-covered hill, and Megan clawed the trees out of the way as she slowly came after him. Her knees popped and creaked, and she groaned. "Here, you stupid bitch. You stupid, unimaginative bitch. Have I mentioned that your kid is gone? Gone forever! Snatched right out from under your nose. If you hadn't gone and grown up and gotten old and boring, it never would have happened... Here we are. Little further."
She followed Jack into a deep cave filled with soft sand. Her belly burned, but her head was dizzy with the cold. The sand below her claws was damp at first, but as she followed Jack deeper into the cave, the sand became dry and slightly warm.
It was dark, but she could see a little bit from the light at the mouth. The back wall of the cave was filled with jagged stones. "Lie down here," Jack said. Megan obeyed. Her scaly back rubbed against the rough stones, and she sighed. She felt warm and comfortable, and she wanted to take a long nap.
"Go ahead and sleep," Jack said. "You're safe enough for now. We'll talk more when you wake up."
Megan yawned and closed her eyes. She wondered if she would dream. Wasn't she already in a dream land? Could she dream in dream land? The warmth in her belly spread slowly to her limbs as she drowsed. Jack sat down on the sandy ground next to her muzzle, then all went dark.
Something was wrong. Megan's muscles were tight and sore, and she groaned. She felt all wrong, like her face was too big and her limbs pointed the wrong wa
y. She opened her eyes. Nothing but sand and rocks in front of her face. Where was she? Why was she not in bed? Megan wanted her bed. She wanted to curl up under her comforter, bury her face in her poofy down pillow, and listen for Brian, sweet comfortable Brian, to ask if he could bring her anything. Megan sighed, and it came out as a low growl. Someone moved into her view and hunkered down.
Jack Benimble looked at her curiously. "Are you all right?"
"What's wrong with me?" The words came out harsh and painful. Her throat hurt, and her face felt numb. What was wrong with her? Why could she not speak properly?
"You're just waking up. You took a good long nap. Are you still cold?"
Megan shook her head. It felt heavy and strange, as though she wore an oddly-shaped helmet.
"I think it's safe for us to stay here for now. She doesn't seem to know we're here. If she did, she'd have sent the dogs after us already."
The dogs. Megan stiffened, and her claws dug into the sand.
Her claws? She looked down at her hands. Why did she have claws?
Green scales. Claws. Wings. Megan looked further and further, and her heart galloped. What had happened to her?
"What's wrong with me?" she screamed. She flung her head backward and smashed her horns into the rocky wall of the cave. There was a low tremble, and dry sand trickled down from the ceiling.
"Wow, talk about a delayed reaction. You're a dragon, Megan. It happened a while ago, when you were sacrificed to the Beast Below. You've taken on its shape. I thought you understood—"
"Why am I a dragon? How am I a dragon? How can I get Paige back like this?" Megan roared, and her stomach filled with heat. It felt good, so she roared again. Jack ducked out of the way of a fistful of flames. He scrambled up her foreleg like a monkey and sat down on her neck, behind her head.
"It's not as bad as you think. I told you that you need to go back to your childhood. You need to fall back down the rabbit hole. You're part-way there already. You became the Beast Below. Now you just need to control it…"
Megan didn't want to listen; she was angry and afraid and wanted to bite something. But his words made too much sense. She remembered the Beast Below from her games with Debbie. Sometimes a dragon, sometimes a hairy apelike thing, the Beast had taken on the shape of whatever demon they needed to exorcise in their games. And as the larger and older of the two girls, Megan had usually taken that role whenever they played Let's Pretend.
But it hurt. She didn't remember the Beast hurting her before. She lay down on the sand. "I don't like this," she whimpered. Hot tears streamed down her nose. "It's too hard."
"Putting a chicken back into its egg isn't easy. But you're doing well. You've survived longer than most adults would."
"I can't just survive! I need to get to Paige!"
"And you will." Jack's voice was firm and confident. He sounded like Brian, who had always had faith in her. "I know you will, and so do you."
"It was the trolls that chased me down there." Megan lifted her head. "What was that about? I never made up anything like those trolls. One of them wanted to—to—"
"No, that wasn't you." Now Jack sounded younger and less certain. "It was her."
"Who's her?"
"I can't say her name."
"Well that sucks." It was getting easier to talk now. Maybe she was getting farther down the rabbit hole, deeper into the fantasy world she needed to explore to find Paige.
From the mouth of the cave came a low growl. Then came another.
"Uh oh," Jack said.
"Fuck," Megan muttered.
It was a chorus of growls now, a cacophony of growls. Something large barked, and she smelled wet dog.
Megan climbed to her feet and slowly advanced toward the rain-drenched entrance. It was entirely blocked by dogs. They stood, emaciated shoulder to shoulder, blocking the way out. Right in front of the bedraggled, growling pack were the two sunken-eyed Dobermans. Between them was the fur-matted, half-crippled Shih Tzu.
"I don't want to kill them," Megan confessed.
"Then run."
Megan ran straight at the entrance. Her claws dug into the sand and kicked it up in a cloud behind her. She lowered her head like a bull, hoping that the dogs would get out of the way before getting trampled. Some of them did.
The Dobermans ducked out of the way of her horns and leaped at her legs as she passed, and she felt their teeth dig into her scales. Then they tore loose and tumbled to the ground behind her.
The other dogs scattered. One of them was the Shih Tzu. It struggled to scramble out of the way of the charging dragon, but it tripped over its own overgrown coat and sprawled. Megan felt a wet crunch as her back leg came down on the poor thing's head. Goodbye, Larry, she thought.
She ran out into the rain and launched herself into the sky. It was as stinging cold as ever, but the cold outside was nothing compared to the chill in her heart.
Chapter Ten
"That way!" Jack shouted, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw his arm gesture to the left. "Get out of the rain and back out over open water."
He didn't have to tell her twice. With a twitch of her wings, Megan curved in flight and headed up and away from the Island of Dogs. "Why is it always raining there?" she asked. "I never drew it that way."
"This isn't just your world anymore," Jack said. There was a rainbow glint of light and water, and just like that she was out of the rain and back into the sun. Blessed warmth. "Others have come here, and they've all left their mark. When you tell a story to other people, it stops being just your story, you know."
"No, I didn't know that. I never thought about it."
"Well, now you know. The story started with you, but your sister has come to Far Faraway too, and so have all the classmates, friends, and those daughters of yours—everyone you've told the stories to. And now Paige is here somewhere, so her imagination is affecting the world more deeply."
"Is Paige the one who made it rain?" She thought about the bloody mess the Land of Sweets had become, and she thought, No. Paige doesn't have that kind of story in her. Her sister maybe, she remembers more about their birth mother and has more post-traumatic stress from that time, but not Paige.
"I don't know. I don't know much more than you, really. I just live here."
"Well, where to now?"
"There's only one place I can think of where you won't be found again in a hurry. And we might find what we're looking for there, too. But you won't like it."
"I already don't like it. Where are we going?"
"The Dungeon."
A heavy man's hand, and something in that hand. Something sharp. Megan shuddered, and her body trembled in midair. "No. We're not going there."
"It's the only place she won't go."
"And there's a reason for that. The Dungeon is hell. Pick somewhere else."
Jack sighed. "Mountain Steep, I guess. Maybe she won't expect you to go back there after what happened last time."
"There, now was that so hard?" Megan turned again, and they headed back toward Mountain Steep.
From her aerial view, Megan was able to get a clearer look at the island's geography. The smoking volcano rose out of the island like an ugly nipple. Here and there were clusters of green, but Mountain Steep was mostly rocks and crags. There was none of the lush, green beauty of the Island of Dogs.
But at least it wasn't raining. There was that. The sky overhead was brilliantly blue and puffed through with snow-white clouds. It was a picture-perfect day.
But Megan remembered the cave trolls that lived here, and she growled to herself. This place was anything but perfect. Ugly, nasty mean-spirited things—who on earth had invented them? But in her current form, she had little to fear from them.
"Where should I land?" she asked Jack.
Jack's voice was dry and wooden. "It doesn't matter. She already knows we're here, and she'll find you wherever you go."
"You're not being very helpful."
"I tried to help, bu
t you're being scared and stubborn. Like a grown-up."
That stung. "Ugh." Megan circled the island and decided on a wide ledge near the mouth of the volcano. She landed awkwardly, sending fistfuls of rocks clattering down the side. She smelled sulfur.
"Where's the hole I came out of?" she asked. "I went through a cave and went straight up a tube. I don't see anything like that here."
"That's it." Jack gestured at the volcano. He hadn't climbed off her back. Maybe he was afraid of heights.
"That wasn't a volcano before. And I know it wasn't smoking."
"It wasn't a volcano for you, but like I said, this isn't just your world anymore."
"I don't like it." Megan wrinkled her muzzle. The sulfur smell was strong, and it filled her mouth with the taste of rotting eggs.
"What do you want to do here?" Jack asked. "We probably have a minute before the trolls arrive to kill us."
"It's broad daylight." Megan looked up at the sky. But it was clouding over. She couldn't see the sun.
"It won't be for long. She knows you're here."
"Who is this 'she'? I know you can't say her name, but can you at least give me a hint?"
"There's only one thing I can tell you, and I've already said it several times. You have to go back down the rabbit hole. You're in free-fall, now. But you still have a long journey ahead of you."
"What about 'she'?"
"I still can't tell you anything. You'll figure it out soon enough anyway, if you've got half a brain."
"No need to be snarky."
"Well, I don't enjoy dying. It makes me cranky."
"Nobody's going to—oh, shit."
While they'd been talking, the sky had clouded over, and the sun was going down. The world was filled with grey twilight. Now above their heads, man-shaped shadows gathered. There was an earthly clatter, like pebbles falling.
"Time to go," Jack said casually, but before Megan could move, a boulder the size of a large dog thumped down the side of the cliff and smashed into her wing. Megan screamed, and fire gouted from her throat. It crashed and burned uselessly against the cliff side in front of her.
