The Sunspire Fear nothing

Although Koontz now had roots firmly planted in the Dragonwatchers' realm now and she performed her duties there quite proficiently, she could not deny the wanderlust that still sang in her blood. Although she felt guilty after her first few forays beyond her new territory, she reminded herself that she was free to roam, so long as she always returned home and took care of her responsibilities. Besides, as one of the pack's two leaders, she felt it was good to get out there and spread word of the pack. If there was one thing she could do, it was act as a diplomat to represent Dragonwatchers.

Today's venture took her the furthest she'd ranged from home since claiming the plateau. She blinked up at the mountain, admiring the way the sunlight glittered on the snowy peak. From this low, distant vantage point, she couldn't make out many details, yet a sparkle here and there indicated to her that the snow melted further down the slopes, running in little streams that caught the sunlight. The overall effect was that of a giant diamond whose surfaces sparkled brilliantly when the light struck it just right. Like a crow eager to find "shinies" to add to her nest, Koontz angled her slim gray body and prepared to climb.

As she hoisted herself up the steep mountainside, she couldn't help but think of her mother, who hated heights. Koontz remembered the time March Owl had taken her to Nightsong Ridge, for reasons the yearling couldn't remember now. In the end, she'd practically had to drag her mother down the slope, after witnessing her projectile vomit over the other side of the ridge. "You're so gross," Koontz had told her mother when they'd finally made it safely home, Mo speckled with her own vomit. The Stellata had grinned at her young daughter—she hadn't been more than two months old—and threatened to eat her tail. She'd chased a squealing and giggling Koontz around the den site, snapping her jaws...

A distant peal of thunder speared right through her thoughts, scattering them. Koontz arched her neck and peered over a gray shoulder, wondering. The sky looked blue and clear, though she saw some mean-looking clouds gathering to the south. She paused, wondering if she should save this climb for another day, then began to turn in order to descend, erring on the side of safety. As she picked her way back down the mountain, her pale eyes flicked up every now and then to drink in the magnificent view and Koontz thanked the stars (a habit she'd developed on her father's behalf) that she'd never inherited her mother's phobia. What a pity to miss a view like this.