Storm. Sarah Driver

come here to fight, spear-flinger.’

      She stares at me and spills two words that sharpen the air. ‘Didn’t you?’

      This night belongs to us.

      I ent sure who moves first. But then all of a sudden the crypts are one giant tangled sweaty brawl and all I know is

       Fists

       Feet

       Eyelids

       Ribs

      And all we are is

       Clawed

       Punched

       Pulled

       Scrambled

       Laughing

       Yelling

      Thaw roosts atop a skull and screams encouragement, making my foes shudder.

      Fists to fists, we practise our fight for the end of the world, then someone steps on a lemming and it screams and we’re all falling about in stitches of laughter. Breath-clouds puff all over the crypt.

      The sharpness has been squeezed out of the air and it feels easier to breathe. Pangolin says something to Lunda and the Spearsister laughs, in a pure way I ent heard her do before. The sound gifts me heart-strength. She’s here now, like it or not. And if Pang trusts her, maybe I can learn to.

      Thaw, I chatter, while the others are still laughing and a few fights are still growling, keep watch for any sneaky blighters that look like beasts but don’t have chatter. I don’t want any spies down here.

      She screeches, lifting up into the air to start her patrol. Everyone turns to stare at me.

      I make my spine arrow-straight. ‘I called this secret meet cos we need a crew.’

      ‘What is a crew?’ asks Pika.

      I grin at him. ‘It’s everything – kinship, knowing how to weather storms together – storms in the world and storms in your heart. It’s having each other’s back, no matter what. It’s – it’s sharing heart-love for what matters most and gifting each other the heart-strength to fight.’

      ‘Pretty speech,’ snaps Lunda.

      ‘Why do we need a crew?’ asks a boy.

      ‘Naught’s going right round here. They tell us to let the full-growns save Trianukka. But who’s gonna save them?’

      ‘What are you talking about?’ demands Lunda. ‘You’re the one that endangered the whole Sneaking because of whatever’s going on up there.’ She gestures to the sides of her head and pulls a gruesome face.

      Crow steps towards her but I hold up a hand. Da said not to reveal my chatter. But how can you make a real crew if you ent honest with them? ‘It’s true that I’m a beast-chatterer, and that my chatter can overpower me.’ I pause, waiting for the whispers to fade. ‘But it means the beasts can tell me things we wouldn’t know elsewise. Like this now – something has happened to the Protector. Something bad.’

      Gasps rattle through the spaces between the bones.

      Pangolin steps forwards. ‘What has happened?’

      ‘I don’t know. But her draggle was spooked—’

      ‘So would you be if you flew through those storms,’ says Lunda.

      ‘It was more than the storms!’ I yell. ‘I heard her! She said missing rider, torn from back. Something happened to Leo. And now I’ve got to find a way to get to her, cos none of the full-growns believes me.’

      Lunda snorts. ‘Small wonder.’

      ‘If you don’t want to be crew, Lunda, that’s no blubber off my blade. But if there’s even a chance that something’s gone wrong, don’t you wanna be sure?’

      Lunda slides down the wall until she’s sitting cross-legged. She puts her face in her hands, saying nothing.

      ‘So . . . what do we do?’ whimpers Ibex.

      I blow out my cheeks. ‘First, I need to know who’s in. Raise your fist and thump your heart if you’re crewing up!’

      Slowly, one by one, each kid in the crypt steps forwards and thumps their chest. My heart glows. Lunda stands, keeping her eyes on mine.

      I swallow my pride though it snags in my throat. ‘Be part of our crew. Help us, Lunda.’ I hold my fist to my chest and she hesitates, big pale eyes wavering as the struggle under her surface rages.

      Then she swears in, too. But not without another challenge. ‘Who is leader of this crew ?’ Her accent clips the word and makes it whistle through her teeth like a birdcall.

      Pride punches my chest and stings my cheeks.

      ‘Oh, you?’ She laughs.

      ‘Course!’

      ‘Why am I not surprised that the sea-creeper seeks attention?’

      ‘You didn’t even know what a crew was—’

      ‘Hey, you two!’ says Pangolin. We turn to face her. She’s standing next to Pika and the two of them are chuckling into their hands. ‘Settle your feathers. There is room – sure, there is need – for more than one leader. I vote for one from each Sky-Tribe plus Mouse to represent the Sea-Tribes.’

      I study my boots. ‘Grand idea, Pang.’

      We cast votes and count them up. The three leaders are decided – me, Pika and Ibex.

      Pika strides into the middle of the crypt. ‘Our crew needs a plan. If the draggle spoke true, we have to get to the Wastes and find Leopard.’

      ‘How?’ asks Pang.

      Silence.

      ‘Take the draggles?’ suggests Hammer.

      ‘A few of us have weather-work,’ offers a Wilderwitch kid. ‘We could try to push the storms away from you.’

      ‘We can’t all go out there riding draggles. Someone would see!’ glooms Ermine.

      I nod. But one girl . . .

      Crow catches my eye and frowns. I smile at him, but it’s a proper beam by accident. Too late, I try to wipe the look off my face but he scowls. Then he puts his mouth close to my ear. ‘Gone and had a terrible idea, have you?’

      I push him away, biting back my grin. Aye. And I’ll make you help me with it. I’ll need a lookout. Who better than a boy who can take the shape of a harmless crow?

      I turn to Ermine. ‘Not if one girl took the journey. Alone.’ The thought makes fire stir behind my eyes and I have to breathe quick, my veins jumping with excitement.

      ‘Not alone,’ says Lunda impatiently.

      We look at her in surprise.

      ‘Haven’t any of you realised it yet?’ she says, voice bubbling with irritation. ‘Even if you got as far as the Frozen Wastes, the Fangtooths would sniff out a sea-creeper. But there’s one person at Hackles who’d be admitted into their territory, bold as daggers.’

      I meet her eyes. ‘Axe-Thrower!’

      Lunda bites the skin around her thumb, nods briskly.

      ‘But she’s a prisoner,’ says Pang. ‘She won’t be going anywhere.’

      ‘No, she won’t,’ replies Lunda. ‘Unless we break her out.’

      Crow curses all over everyone’s shock.

      But the hooks of Lunda’s idea dig into my skin. Cos what if the vision Sparrow