A Sending of Dragons by Jane Yolen Page B

carefully, so as not to scratch their hands, they pulled apart enough of the intertwining branches of the caught-ums, hooking them on to peripheral strands until they had a clear if narrow path leading into the cave.
    When they reached the rock Jakkin turned and, using his spear, unlocked the knot behind them. The brambles sprang back, once again obscuring the cave.
    â€œNo one could possibly know we’re in here,” Jakkin said, his mind sending its own version of a gate slammed shut.
    ***
    T HEY WERE COLD the moment they entered the cave. It was as if the cave were fed
by some great belly of wind from below. And there was a strange hollow echo in it that gave them back breath for breath. Jakkin pulled bis gray-white shirt out of the sling and put it on.
    â€œI don’t like it,” Akki said, shivering. Parts of her voice, terribly distorted, came back to them from the black walls:
I . . . ikeit
. . .
ikeit . . . ikeit.
“It’s not—not welcoming, like our other caves. There’s something
ugly
here. I don’t know what it is, but I feel it.”
    Although Jakkin didn’t answer, his own mistrust linked with hers.
    They reached out and grabbed hands, as if touch alone could warm them, and together began to inch forward into the cave. It was dark inside, and though their gift of dragon sight usually meant they could see colors in the dark, the cave was void of any light. It was a darkness that matched the cold.
    Rounding a bend, they found themselves in a secondary cave with a ceiling high enough so they could stand upright. Ahead was a faint gleaming that cast a grayish light on the shadowy walls. Instinctively they went toward the light, their fingers twined together.
    The glow seemed to come from a pile of
sticks stacked up so high, the top reached the cave ceiling.
    Akki reached out with her free hand and touched one of the protruding sticks cautiously. “It’s cold,” she said. “And porous.”
    Jakkin put his hand on another stick. “That’s bone,” he said.
    Akki looked more closely, horrified. “You’re right,” she said. She touched a different bone. “Oh, my God,” she said. “Jakkin, look! Femur, fibula, humerus, another femur, tibia, and these little ones. They’re caudal vertebrae.” She went up and down the stack, touching the bones and naming them, until she added unnecessarily, “Dragon bones.” The echo in the cave mocked her horror, whispering in return:
ones . . . ones
. . .
ones.
    Despite the cold, Jakkin felt a fine film of sweat on his palms as Akki counted out the bones. It took a moment more for him to get out the question that seemed to be echoing inside him. “What . . .” he began, his voice cracking, “what can be big enough to eat this many dragons?” He hesitated, then mused aloud, “Not drakk.”
    â€œWhat would be big enough to strip the
bones—and then neat enough to stack them?” Akki added. “Stack them in an intricate, interlocking pattern?”
    â€œWe’re leaving,” Jakkin said. “Now.”
    The echo added its own mocking note.
    They backed out of the dark, high chamber and reentered the lower room. The cave mouth, even shuttered with the caught-ums, suddenly seemed to blaze with light, and they started toward the opening.
    A strange chuffing sound leaked through the thorny thicket and into the cave. Jakkin crouched by the cave mouth and listened. Something whirred around the clearing and settled in.
    â€œCopter!”
he sent to Akki, not daring to speak aloud or stir up the cave’s echoes again, even though with the noise the copter was making, he knew he’d never be heard. Carefully he checked that the caught-ums were securely laced over the opening. As far as he could tell, they showed no evidence of entry.
    â€œ
We have disappeared,
” Akki sent back, forming a picture of a