Free Red Moon Rising by K. A. Holt

heading away from the gorge at a rapid pace.
    The creature aims its nose straight into the glow of the Red Crescent, which breaks through the storm clouds, and begins to climb yet higher. We are going into the storm, which doesn’t seem the wisest move, but I am not an expert on flying scaled creatures through electrical storms. I can only hope that Fist wants to keep himself alive, and thus me alive, as I am tethered to him. And yet, this seems like madness.
    Electrical bolts fly in every direction around us, making even the tiniest hairs on my neck stand tall. Wisps of gray clouds scurry past us as if they, too, are trying to escape. I can feel the thunderous booms deep in my chest, which I discover is still bleeding, but not as much as before.
    We climb and climb and I wonder if maybe Fist is trying to take us above the clouds. That would be smart, but the storm clouds appear to be endless. The bolts are coming faster and faster, until there is more time spent dodging them than flying straight. Fist must realize the futility of his attempt because he barks an order and kicks the beast and we descend in a dive that I fear will rip my clothes off and send them sailing out behind me into the sky.
    We emerge from the middle of the storm, and as the dactyl darts and dives to avoid more bolts I catch a glimpse of the ground beneath us. It is Old Settlement.
    Fist shouts orders and thumps the dactyl’s flank, not ungently, but with purpose. The creature swerves and darts away from the bolts and finally lands in a skidding plume of dust and scrub. The storm still rages around us, but we are on the ground again, and for that I am grateful.
    Fist quickly unties us and yanks me off the back of the beast. The dactyl screams in what sounds like fury and takes back to the sparking, fiery sky. Fist tightens his hand around my arm, so that it feels fairly glued there by sticky blood, and drags me behind a string of attached and abandoned Old Settlement buildings. This is not how I imagined learning about this place—at the hands of a murderous Cheese. I shiver despite the heat. If there are ghosts here, I pray that they are more merciful than Fist.
    Just as a bolt lands behind us and a crash rattles my teeth, Fist twists a knob and pushes open a door. He thrusts me inside a building, then follows, wrestling with the open door against the wind and then pushing it shut behind us.
    All is dark, except for what I can see illuminated from the flashes of the bolts.
    Oh, gods.
    I am trespassing on sacred ground. I am bleeding. I have been taken by the Cheese. But what I see before me is worse than all of those gum things put together.

11
    IT IS A HAT, LYING upside down on a floor coated with inches of dust. Light flashes in from the windows and confirms my terror.
    It is not just a hat. It is Temple’s hat. It is torn. It is bloody. There is long blond hair stuck to part of it like a grotesque horsetail. Temple’s hat. Temple’s hair.
    Temple’s blood.
    I lean over and heave my meager lunch of biscuits all over Fist’s feet. Then, with no mind to what I’m doing, I strike him. A fist for a Fist. I haul off again and pound him in the throbbing oval on the side of his head, and as he takes a step back I slam him in the stomach. I run at him, full tilt, and knock into his scaled chin, feeling the sharpness of his skull bruise the crown of my head. He reels backand crashes into something I can’t see. I reach for my knife in my pocket and once again realize I am not wearing my apron. Gum stupid girl!
    The electrical flashes are coming less often now and we are plunged into almost full dark. The windows are so crusted over with dirt and dust only the brightest light can seep through.
    Fist is only on the defensive for a moment. Soon he has regained his balance and lunges at me, twisting me around and throwing me up against a wall. There’s a crunching sound and at first I don’t know if it’s me or