Phoenix by Finley Aaron

Author:Finley Aaron [Aaron, Finley]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Children's Books, Fairy Tales; Folk Tales & Myths, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy & Magic, Teen & Young Adult, Myths & Legends, Children's eBooks, Science Fiction; Fantasy & Scary Stories, Paranormal & Urban, Fantasy, Contemporary, Young Adult
Amazon: B00S79LER4
Publisher: Henry Knox Press
Published: 2015-02-10T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

We reach the Bikini Atoll as the sun is setting again. Normally we prefer to fly by night and sleep by day in order to avoid being seen as dragons, but since we’re in the wide open Pacific Ocean, there’s no particular need for stealth. And frankly, the Bikini Atoll is such a tiny ring of islands in the vast, endless ocean, I’m not sure we’d have spotted it by night, not even with our dragon vision and knowledge of geography.

By the time we land, my muscles are aching. The sand is soft and the pool of ocean water in the center of the atoll is warm and relatively calm. Inviting. I just want to slip into the water like we sat in the hot spring last night, and let the warm waves lap away my aching weariness.

I stride in slowly, moaning with the blissful comfort of the soothing waters, when my brother’s voice hits me like a slap.

“Hunt us some supper, Felix.”

I spin around to face him. “Excuse me? I’ve hunted the last three suppers in a row. I’m not your servant.”

“I was going to find drinking water. There were wells on this island, long ago when it was inhabited by humans, before the nuclear bombs were tested here and the people evacuated. I think I can find the wells more quickly than you can, but if you’d rather trade, I can hunt.” Ram lifts one eyebrow in challenge.

Right. It’s a race to see who can bring back food or water for Nia first.

Which challenge am I best fitted to—food, or water?

I’m not bad at fishing. And from the gleam in Rams’ eyes, I know if I were to choose to look for water, and Ram came back with fish first, I’d look that much worse for failing at the task that’s supposed to be easiest.

“I’ll fish.” I snap him a look that says challenge accepted, and fly off, scanning the water for something to eat.

The water is beautiful here, with coral and sand not so far below—crystalline blue and green, capped with white-tipped waves, giving way to deepest blue. Paradise.

And empty.

I fly north, retracing our path but looping wide, scanning the clear waters for any fish big enough to bother bringing back. I’m not being picky or hunting a trophy. I’m hungry. I’m sure Nia’s hungry, too. But the big game tuna I’ve caught so easily on my recent fishing trips are in short supply here, probably hiding out in the deepest, coolest waters, or maybe at some distant point in their migratory journey.

Wherever they are, they’re not where I can see them.

I don’t dare fly east or west or south of Bikini. It’s technically part of the Marshall Islands, most of the rest of which are located in those directions. Many of those islands are inhabited. If I fly too close to them, I could be seen.

In fact, Bikini used to be inhabited. If my memory of history serves me correctly, the place was evacuated when the United States tested their nuclear bombs here shortly after World War Two.

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