![[Firebringer 02] - Dark Moon](/res/cobbf/book3.jpg)
never hope to survive the coming winter on this barren, forbidding shore.
On the beach below, the daïcha’s companions clambered up onto their caveshell’s back. Their goods, he saw, had already been loaded and carried below. Most of the males remained milling on the beach. The wet wind gusted, dampening them all. Behind him in the deserted pit, the dancing flames sizzled and died.
Before him on the beach, the daïcha carefully handed the little figurine up to two of her companions on the caveshell, then boarded herself, assisted by the grizzled male. Tai-shan blinked suddenly, realizing. Though the fire in the cinder pit was clearly doomed, that within the smoking figurine, now being carried away in the reverent grasp of the daïcha’s companions, still burned. This fire was to be kept sheltered in the caveshell, safe from the killing damp. It was this fire he must follow, then.
The dark unicorn loped to the foot of the dune. The males gave ground as he crossed the beach to stand before the caveshell. The daïcha called down to him, beckoning with her forelimbs. Tai-shan hesitated, gauging the distance between them. The wind whipped harder, rain beginning to fall in earnest now. The daïcha called again. The young stallion sidled, measuring his strength. At last, bunching his hindquarters, he sprang onto the flat, tilted back of the caveshell.
The slick wooden surface boomed beneath his hooves. For a moment, the caveshell rocked precariously. He had to scramble for his footing until it steadied. The remaining two of the daïcha’s female companions screamed and scattered while the males on the shore cried out in consternation. But the daïcha laughed in delight, stroking the dark unicorn’s neck and leading him toward the rear of the caveshell. A low barrier edged the shell’s perimeter. Tai-shan had little fear of sliding off. Still, the cant of the wooden surface disconcerted him. He moved unsteadily, unused to the feel of slanted deck underhoof.
At the caveshell’s tail end, the daïcha disappeared through a narrow ingress. Following, Tai-shan found himself in a small wooden chamber. Scattered about the floor lay soft falseskin pads stuffed with rushes, upon which the other females huddled. The chamber was warm, the air heavy with the savor of spicewood and smoke. Before the opposite wall, the black figurine stood, breathing fire. Bowing before it, the daïcha murmured, “Dai’chon.”
Tai-shan lay down against the near wall. The daïcha knelt beside him, chafing him with a soft, dry falseskin, smoothing the damp from his coat like a mare licking her foal. The sensation was delightful. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Presently he heard her companions moving cautiously about the chamber. He scarcely marked their activity, any more than he heeded the grunting and shouting of the males on the beach beyond.
Sleep had nearly claimed him. His surroundings seemed vague and distant now. Stormwind gusted. Rain drummed against the chamber’s walls. Beneath him, the floor shuddered. Much splashing and clambering and shouting from without. He heard a low grating like distant thunder. None of the two-foots in the room gave any sign of concern. Only half-waking, he ignored it all.
The tilted floor seemed to right itself momentarily, becoming more level. Then it began rocking gently, very gently, smoothly tossing and rolling like treetops in a summer breeze. Such an odd dream to be having, the dark unicorn mused. It felt like drifting in the sea. He let his thoughts dissolve into the hypnotic swaying of wooden planking beneath him, the soothing rush of wind outside, the plash of nearby sea, and the gentle creaking of rain-soaked wood. He slept.
Tai-shan awoke with a start. The deck beneath him was swaying in earnest: pitching and tipping. It was no dream. Alarmed, he lifted his head. The daïcha was not within the wooden chamber. Two of her companions dozed on falseskin pads across the narrow space from him. The dark
On the beach below, the daïcha’s companions clambered up onto their caveshell’s back. Their goods, he saw, had already been loaded and carried below. Most of the males remained milling on the beach. The wet wind gusted, dampening them all. Behind him in the deserted pit, the dancing flames sizzled and died.
Before him on the beach, the daïcha carefully handed the little figurine up to two of her companions on the caveshell, then boarded herself, assisted by the grizzled male. Tai-shan blinked suddenly, realizing. Though the fire in the cinder pit was clearly doomed, that within the smoking figurine, now being carried away in the reverent grasp of the daïcha’s companions, still burned. This fire was to be kept sheltered in the caveshell, safe from the killing damp. It was this fire he must follow, then.
The dark unicorn loped to the foot of the dune. The males gave ground as he crossed the beach to stand before the caveshell. The daïcha called down to him, beckoning with her forelimbs. Tai-shan hesitated, gauging the distance between them. The wind whipped harder, rain beginning to fall in earnest now. The daïcha called again. The young stallion sidled, measuring his strength. At last, bunching his hindquarters, he sprang onto the flat, tilted back of the caveshell.
The slick wooden surface boomed beneath his hooves. For a moment, the caveshell rocked precariously. He had to scramble for his footing until it steadied. The remaining two of the daïcha’s female companions screamed and scattered while the males on the shore cried out in consternation. But the daïcha laughed in delight, stroking the dark unicorn’s neck and leading him toward the rear of the caveshell. A low barrier edged the shell’s perimeter. Tai-shan had little fear of sliding off. Still, the cant of the wooden surface disconcerted him. He moved unsteadily, unused to the feel of slanted deck underhoof.
At the caveshell’s tail end, the daïcha disappeared through a narrow ingress. Following, Tai-shan found himself in a small wooden chamber. Scattered about the floor lay soft falseskin pads stuffed with rushes, upon which the other females huddled. The chamber was warm, the air heavy with the savor of spicewood and smoke. Before the opposite wall, the black figurine stood, breathing fire. Bowing before it, the daïcha murmured, “Dai’chon.”
Tai-shan lay down against the near wall. The daïcha knelt beside him, chafing him with a soft, dry falseskin, smoothing the damp from his coat like a mare licking her foal. The sensation was delightful. Sighing, he closed his eyes. Presently he heard her companions moving cautiously about the chamber. He scarcely marked their activity, any more than he heeded the grunting and shouting of the males on the beach beyond.
Sleep had nearly claimed him. His surroundings seemed vague and distant now. Stormwind gusted. Rain drummed against the chamber’s walls. Beneath him, the floor shuddered. Much splashing and clambering and shouting from without. He heard a low grating like distant thunder. None of the two-foots in the room gave any sign of concern. Only half-waking, he ignored it all.
The tilted floor seemed to right itself momentarily, becoming more level. Then it began rocking gently, very gently, smoothly tossing and rolling like treetops in a summer breeze. Such an odd dream to be having, the dark unicorn mused. It felt like drifting in the sea. He let his thoughts dissolve into the hypnotic swaying of wooden planking beneath him, the soothing rush of wind outside, the plash of nearby sea, and the gentle creaking of rain-soaked wood. He slept.
Tai-shan awoke with a start. The deck beneath him was swaying in earnest: pitching and tipping. It was no dream. Alarmed, he lifted his head. The daïcha was not within the wooden chamber. Two of her companions dozed on falseskin pads across the narrow space from him. The dark
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