Darkwing by Kenneth Oppel Page A

to know, “if she thought the Pact was such a good thing?”
    “She wasn’t elder when we left the mainland,” Mistral explained. “It was her father, Proteus, who made the decision.”
    “And it cost him dearly,” Icaron said. “It destroyed his family. None of his sons would come with him.”
    “But Nova could’ve stayed behind too,” Sylph said. Icaron grunted. “Better for all of us if she had. But Proteus wanted her to come and she was obedient to his wishes.”
    Dusk found it hard to believe that Nova could ever have been obedient to anyone but herself.
    “It wasn’t simply a matter of obedience,” said Mistral. “Nova’s mate had just been killed by saurians while hunting eggs, and she was grief-stricken. She wanted to escape from the saurians forever, and the island was a haven.”
    “Her father was an excellent elder,” said Icaron, “and I admired him very much. But Proteus was the oldest of our group, and not strong, and he died after only two months on the island. Then Nova became elder.”
    “I always wondered how it happened!” Sylph said to Dusk. “No grubby sons hanging around, and she was the eldest daughter! It’s probably the only time there’s ever been a female elder.”
    “But she never did find another mate,” said Mistral. “Maybe if she had, her hatred of the saurians wouldn’t have grown so fierce and vengeful.”
    “Over the years she’s talked a great deal about returning to the mainland and rejoining the Pact,” said Icaron, “but Barat and Sol and I never agreed with her. I think the quetzal today reignited all her old anger and fear, and so she broke her vow of secrecy. It was a vow meant to keep everyone safe. Sometimes ignorance is preferable to knowledge.”
    Dusk nodded. He wasn’t sure he quite understood, but he trusted his father and knew he must be right.
    “You really hunted eggs?” Icaron nodded. “We both did.”
    Dusk turned to his mother in amazement. “You too?”
    “Of course,” Mistral said.
    “This is so incredible,” Sylph said to Dusk, her eyes bright with excitement.
    “She was the better hunter,” Icaron admitted. “Stealthier, with a superior sense of—”
    Dusk saw his mother shoot Dad a warning glance.
    “—much better senses,” Icaron finished. “She was excellent at scouting out nests.”
    “So you saw saurians close up?” Sylph asked their mother.
    “Well, we tried to wait until the adults were far from the nests. But yes, sometimes we came very close to them.”
    Sylph nuzzled her mother’s shoulder admiringly. “I wish I’d hunted saurian eggs like you, sneaking up on—”
    “Don’t say such things,” Icaron snapped. “They’re offensive to me.”
    All the exhilaration flew from Sylph’s face and was replaced by astonishment and hurt.
    Mistral looked at Icaron. “She’s young and excited,” she told her mate quietly. “You’re too severe with her.”
    “She should know better, especially after what she’s just heard me say. I expect more from my own daughter. These are not things to boast about.”
    Sylph said nothing, and in her dark, hooded eyes, Dusk saw a simmering resentment. This was hardly the first time their father had spoken sharply to her. Some days it seemed that Sylph did nothing but irritate him. She was too loud. She shouted and argued and objected. Things were boring or stupid or unfair. Dusk pressed closer to his sister, hoping to comfort her, but she wouldn’t look at him. The dogged set to her face made him anxious.
    “But what’s wrong,” she began, “with protecting the colony from saurian nests?”
    “Sylph …” her mother said warningly.
    “I think if I found saurian eggs near us, I’d be like Nova and want to—”
    Icaron’s teeth clashed mere inches from her left shoulder. Sylph recoiled with a cry, and Dusk let out a loud, startled exhalation. Sylph scuttled behind their mother, whimpering. Dusk looked from his father to his mother, expecting her to rebuke