Free Starfinder: A Novel of the Skylords by John Marco Page A

desperately. “I want to believe. I . . .” She dropped to her haunches. “I want to rest.” Her eyes looked up hopefully. “Please can we rest?”
    “Okay, yeah,” Moth relented. “Let’s rest.”
    He called Esme back onto his shoulder, sitting down next to Fiona. All they could see was each other. Moth held back his panic, glad he wasn’t alone, because if he was he would have broken into tears.
    “I’m hungry,” he said, anxious to keep talking. “You hungry?”
    Fiona shook her head. “No.”
    “We should eat. We’ll eat, and we’ll rest, and then we’ll find our way out of here. Believe it, Fiona, okay? You got to believe it.”
    “Why’s that going to help, Moth?” She looked at him, really wanting to know. “Wishing doesn’t make things happen.”
    “Believing ain’t wishing. Believing is knowing, and I know Leroux didn’t lie to me. I know it, see? That’s trust. You trust me, don’t you?”
    Fiona nodded. “Yes.”
    “Good. Believe that, then.”
    Moth dug out the meat pie he’d nibbled at the morning before. He took another small bite, offering the rest to Fiona. When she refused, he put it gently to her lips.
    “Just a bite,” he told her.
    She did as he asked, swallowed, and then announced, “I’m cold.”
    “Me too,” said Moth. He put his arm around Fiona, and at once they both stopped shaking. “Close your eyes,” he whispered. “I’ll keep watch.”
    Fiona was too tired to argue. She closed her eyes and put her head against his slight shoulder, sharing his warmth. He listened to her breathing, first quick and anxious, then slower, more relaxed. He smiled, realizing she was falling asleep. It spread over him like a contagion. Before he realized it, he was sleeping too.
     
    Too exhausted to dream, Moth did not awaken until he felt something tickling his nose. For that first, blissful moment, he forgot about his trek through the fog, thinking he was waking up in Leroux’s apartment on his own, soft sofa. But when he opened his eyes he saw Lady Esme staring back at him, standing right beside his head, and he knew exactly where he was.
    His eyes opened wider. He saw sunlight. The smell of flowers filled his nostrils. He lifted his head, and to his great astonishment saw them all around him.
    “Bluebells . . .”
    His mother had grown them, and now he was in a valley full of them. Sunlight poured down from the purest sky Moth had ever seen. Lady Esme screeched in delight, bounding off Moth’s shoulder and shooting toward the clouds. And there in the flowers was Fiona, spinning in a joyous pirouette, her red hair flying out around her, her belt of canteens banging.
    “We made it!” she cried. “Ha! Leroux was right!”
    In the carpet of bluebells, a chorus of hummingbirds flew out from their feeding. Lady Esme soared over the wood-land, klee-klee-kleeing as she wheeled through a long, lazy spiral. Moth put a hand to his chest. His heart was thumping wildly again, but not with fear this time. This time, all he felt was gladness.
    “He was right,” Moth whispered. He gazed into the sky, up to where Lady Esme soared, and knew Leroux hadn’t lied to him. “All of it’s true.” Laughing, he dashed out into the bluebells. “Hey Fiona! Still think Leroux was crazy?”

PICTURES IN THE SKY
    THE HEADY SMELL OF FLOWERS filled Moth’s nose as he stared up at the sky. Fiona lay beside him in the bed of bluebells, her fingers knitted behind her head and a mysterious smile on her face. They had eaten out of their pockets, drunk from their canteens, then reclined in the sunny field, sleepily enjoying the warmth of a summer that shouldn’t exist. Amid the hummingbirds and bees they marveled at the world they had entered, watching Lady Esme sail high above them. There were no mountains; no mechanical dragonflies disturbed the tranquility. Like the gray season that chilled the other side of the Reach, they had left Calio and their troubles behind.
    “Look how free she is