Lori stood at the gates of Fort Dane, her hand trembling slightly as it rested on the small handle of the wicket window. She glanced over her shoulder behind her to ensure everyone was in position: Jangles and Wakiye were saddled and ready, her father, Ebeneezer, and Devin sat strapped in, goggles on, and prepared for flight. Redhand, perched on Wakiye’s back, gazed at Lori with an open expression of curiosity. A handful of soldiers stood ready to open the gates.

  Lori puffed at the cigar as she nodded toward Jangles, who returned a nod, signaling that he was ready.

  Here goes nothing, Lori said to herself. She slid open the wicker window and saw the hard marshal standing a few feet away, arms folded, a look of red fury on his face.

  “Hey, marshal! Good to see you! How’s your jail?”

  His face turned a deeper shade of scarlet. “You come out of there! Now! You and your friends are under arrest!”

  Lori nodded. “Yeah, I feel terrible about that. And I’ll be out in a jiffy. But I have to have your word that you won’t be violent. I know you have a reputation.”

  The marshal stabbed his finger at Lori. “You have to come out of there sometime! I’ll make your life a living hell the longer you make me wait!”

  “Well, that’s a good reason for me to never come out.” Lori lowered her voice a little, hoping the marshal would step a little closer. “If you said ‘please’, and promised not to be such an asshole, maybe I’ll come out today! Or tomorrow…”

  It worked. The marshal took a few steps closer. She puffed on the cigar, the ember glowing to a bright red.

  “I’ve had enough of your sass. I’ve wired the Governor, and I will have authorization to enter this fort by this evening, and I will throw your smart ass into a jail cell where you won’t have nothin’ but bread and water until the day I have you hung! Now come out of there, now!”

  “Well, marshal, since you put it that way, I’ll be right out.” She slid the window shut and nodded to the soldiers who pulled the door open. As they did, Lori took her borrowed cigar and held it to the fuse of a stick of dynamite which she tossed right in front of the marshal as soon as it was lit.

  As the fuse hissed and sparked, the marshal’s face twisted from fury to panic. ‘Fall back!’ he bellowed, scrambling backward with surprising clumsiness, his deputies scattering like dry leaves in the gale.

  The soldiers quickly pushed open the door, and Lori stuffed the cigar in her mouth and leaped onto Jangles' back. The dragon lunged forward through the gate, releasing a ball of fire from his jaws that swept down the road like an enormous tumbleweed. The cyclonic winds dissipated it within seconds, but the effect lasted long enough for Jangles to use the wind as a lift, soaring into the sky like a kite in a tornado.

  Lori glanced back and saw Wakiye right behind them. Jangles had given the thunderbird valuable advice on using the wind for a swift escape. Wakiye, being an old bird, struggled with flying at his age and needed all the help he could get to save his pilot from the hard marshal. Wakiye’s wings flapped with steady, deliberate effort, each stroke more labored than the last. The wind ripped at his feathers, threatening to pull him off course, but the thunderbird angled his body against the gusts, his resolve unshaken.

  Lori took off her hat and held it between her legs as she donned her flight goggles, then she took one last puff on the cigar before tossing it aside and raising her kerchief over her mouth and nose. She looked back at the Fort, now lost in the churning, windblown dust cloud below.

  Devin, who sat behind Ford, shouted over the wind. “I never heard an explosion!”

  Lori laughed. “I took out the detonator! No way I was going to set off a stick of dynamite that close to us and the fort!”

  Devin laughed.

  Ford leaned forward, gripping her shoulder briefly. ‘Clever work, kid.’ His tone was gruff, but the pride in his voice was unmistakable. Lori’s chest swelled as she adjusted her goggles, a grin hidden beneath her kerchief.

  As Jangles ascended through the roaring dust storm, Lori felt the dragon's powerful muscles straining beneath her. His wings held steady against the immense force of the wind that whipped them up into the sky. She could see the tension in his wing joints, the way they strained and flexed, struggling to ride the turbulent air currents.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The storm raged as a blinding vortex of grit and debris, reducing visibility to mere inches. Lori squinted through her goggles, peering through the storm. Despite the kerchief tied tightly over her mouth and nose, Lori found it increasingly difficult to breathe in the suffocating dust storm. Each breath felt labored, her chest tightened making her cough and sputter.

  She worried about Jangles. The dragon's breathing felt labored beneath her, each exhale coming out in harsh, rattling gusts she could feel through the saddle. Lori's concern grew as she wondered how much longer he could sustain this effort. Was he struggling to breathe as much as she was? She knew he was simply too stoic to complain. The storm showed no signs of relenting, and the visibility remained almost non-existent.

  Lori’s thighs ached from gripping the saddle too tightly, and every gust sent pins and needles shooting through her arms as she braced against the wind. Each jarring shift of Jangles’ wings seemed to reverberate through her very bones. Lori leaned forward, hunching over the pommel of the saddle and laid her hand on his neck. She patted him, but he did not respond. His attention lay entirely on the sky ahead. She kept her hand there, willing her own strength into him.

  Long minutes dragged on as the dragon fought his way upward. The wind howled and roared, a cacophony that threatened to drown out her thoughts. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the air began to thin out. The dust storm's fury lessened, and rays of sunlight pierced through the gloom, guiding them higher. Jangles' wings beat a few times before settling back in to keeping the steady incline.

  Lori felt the shift, the subtle transition from turbulence to tranquility. They had finally broken through the uppermost layer of the storm. The skies above held a yellowish hue, not the pristine blue from just before they had landed in Fort Dane. The ill color of the sky told Lori that the storm was spewing higher into the atmosphere above. A quick glance at the altimeter showed that they were over a thousand feet higher than they were before. The storm was getting worse. How much worse would it get before they stopped it?

  If they could stop it.

  Jangles gave one last mighty push, and they soared into the clearer air, leaving much of the swirling dust below. Lori took a deep breath, the fresh wind filling her lungs, and she patted Jangles' neck in relief.

  Lori spared a quick glance behind them. Wakiye and Redhand were nowhere to be seen. Her heart leapt in her throat. Had they simply fallen behind, or had Wakiye been unable to make the ascent? She swallowed, her mouth and throat dry from the dust as much as the fear. She clutched at her chest as she imagined Wakiye smashed on the ground.

  Lori raised her whistle to her lips and signaled Jangles to slowly turn starboard. She kept glancing back, hoping to catch sight of the black thunderbird emerging from the storm. Despite her anticipation, she remained focused on her duty, watching the compass on the pilot’s console as it turned. Lori then took her spyglass and peered ahead. In the distance, the hurricane’s churning rage gave way to an unnatural calm—a swirling void framed by walls of spinning debris. The eye loomed like an ominous, unblinking iris, a deceptive haven surrounded by destruction.

  Lori turned and called out, "Ebeneezer!" Her voice barely carried over the gusting winds, but the kobold, huddled behind Devin, perked up and scrambled forward. She handed him the spyglass.

  "Climb to the top pack," she instructed, pointing toward the rear of the saddle. "Keep an eye out for Wakiye. Let me know the moment you see them."

  Ebeneezer's eyes widened at the task, but he nodded resolutely.

  Lori pulled him close, wondering how in the world he kept his green derby hat on in this wind. Probably by magic. “Be careful! Don’t do it if you don’t think you can!” She didn’t like Ebeneezer, but she didn’t want him to perish, either.

  Ebeneezer clenched the spyglass as if it were a lifeline, his hat miraculously unmoved despite the battering wind. “Madness,” he grumbled. “Pure bloody madness.” His tiny hands found holds on every strap and saddle bag as he crab-walked along the saddle flank. Each step was a battle against the gale. The pack shifted a little beneath him, and he had to constantly readjust his balance to avoid being thrown off. He made use of the cargo net covering the top pack and scurried to the top where he wrapped his legs through the ropes and sat as securely as he could manage.

  With Ebeneezer safely perched above, Lori turned her attention back to her task of piloting. Lori checked her compass and clock, performing quick arithmetic to estimate their arrival time. The realization hit her hard: six hours. Six hours of tenuous flying, battling unpredictable weather, and potentially landing Jangles in the dark.

  Her eyes darted to the horizon, gauging the ominous clouds. The thought of landing Jangles in the dark gnawed at Lori's mind. It was bad enough to navigate through this relentless storm, but to descend into darkness without clear sight of the ground was a harrowing prospect. There wouldn’t even be any lights to guide them. If she was right, the whole town was abandoned or dead, and there wouldn’t be any lamplit windows to give her an idea where they might land. Her imagination conjured the worst scenarios: Jangles’ massive wings thrashed by gusts, losing balance, and crashing into jagged rocks or unseen buildings.

  Jangles, with his considerable wingspan and weight, required precision—something daylight facilitated greatly. Darkness transformed every maneuver into guesswork, increasing the peril tenfold. Lori knew that a miscalculation could result in catastrophic damage; they could be killed. Her heart clenched painfully at the thought of Jangles injured—or worse—because of her decisions. There was no room for error, not with everyone depending on her. She gripped the console tighter, the weight of leadership pressing down harder than the storm itself.

  She took a deep breath, steadying herself. They couldn’t land. Not until they reached the eye of the storm. There was no choice but to move forward. Lori took out her folio and map and began making careful notes of the time and their position, and set her sights on Hakitaw, determination hardening in her chest. She would not allow Jangles to get hurt, and damn everything else.