back and chest clenched. But at least nothing seemed to be broken. The thick bed of leaves and moss on the forest floor must have broken his fall, saved his life.
Stupid of him to linger so long on the ground. Just asking to be eaten. He wasted no more time. Wincing, he beat his wings hard, working up some lift before shoving off with his legs. Slowly he ascended in a series of jerky spirals. He wondered how long he’d been lying stunned down there. Lucky he hadn’t been wolfed down by some passing beast. He reached the peak of a tall tree, and there he roosted.
He took a good long look around. Forest everywhere, looking enough like home that he felt a surge of hope. But when he turned his gaze to the sky, his hope seeped away. All the stars were arranged in constellations he’d never seen before. He began shaking, a deep inner trembling that had nothing to do with cold.
Where am I?
He couldn’t rip his eyes away. The stars were bigger than he remembered, and extraordinarily bright. Even with no moon in the sky, the light from the stars alone was enough to bathe the forest in a silver that was more like approaching dawn. Something else about them, too … what was it? Then it came to him. The stars weren’t twinkling at all. Their light was pure and unwavering.
He clamped his jaws together, tried to stop his teeth chattering.
How did I get here?
He’d fallen down a hole.
Then fallen from the sky.
It sounded like something from a terrible dream, but he knew it wasn’t. He’d had plenty of bad dreams—he was an expert—and right now this did not feel like a dream. But how had he gone from the
hole
to the
sky?
“It’s not possible,” he said quietly to himself, trying to reason this out. “I mean, that just doesn’t happen. Except … well, what about this? The tunnel goes right through the entire earth and spitsme out the other side into the heavens, and somehow I just crash-landed on a totally different world?” His breath snagged. That felt worse.
Much
worse. Now he wasn’t even on the same
world?
Wrapping his wings tightly around himself, he covered his head. His stomach roiled. He tried to think of something positive. At least he wasn’t dead. After a landing like that, he was lucky.
“So I’m here, and I’m not dead,” he muttered aloud, not feeling lucky in the slightest. He wanted this to be over now. He wanted to be back at Tree Haven. He’d face his mother, the elders. Luna. Maybe if he just slept, everything would be fixed when he woke up.
As if he could sleep.
Timidly he unfurled his wings and took another look. Same forest. Same strange stars. A beetle, bigger and spikier than any beetle had a right to be, droned past his nose, and Griffin grunted, momentarily distracted.
“That is one ugly bug,” he said. But he was too dispirited to pursue it. He felt no hunger at all, just a heavy, crushing despair.
There must be other bats here. He should go look. Maybe they could tell him where he was, help him get back home. But he stayed locked to his roost, gazing around fretfully. There was something weird about this place … something
wrong
with it.
Then it came to him.
No smell.
This forest had absolutely no smell. He blew hard through his nostrils, in case they were clogged, then tried again. No rich, loamy fragrance of soil, no leaf mould, no sharp tang of bark and pitch. He swung up onto the branch and put his nose right against it. Nothing. He tried a leaf—same thing. There was something terribly disturbing about all this. He frowned as he took a closer look at the leaves. Couldn’t quite place them. Some sort of oak, maybe. But a little further down, sprouting from the verysame branch, was a tuft of pine needles. Leaves and needles on the same tree? Completely freakish.
Instinctively he flattened his entire body against the bark. He was being watched.
Not just by one creature, but many. His fur tingled unpleasantly as dozens of sonic gazes bombarded him from all sides.
Stupid of him to linger so long on the ground. Just asking to be eaten. He wasted no more time. Wincing, he beat his wings hard, working up some lift before shoving off with his legs. Slowly he ascended in a series of jerky spirals. He wondered how long he’d been lying stunned down there. Lucky he hadn’t been wolfed down by some passing beast. He reached the peak of a tall tree, and there he roosted.
He took a good long look around. Forest everywhere, looking enough like home that he felt a surge of hope. But when he turned his gaze to the sky, his hope seeped away. All the stars were arranged in constellations he’d never seen before. He began shaking, a deep inner trembling that had nothing to do with cold.
Where am I?
He couldn’t rip his eyes away. The stars were bigger than he remembered, and extraordinarily bright. Even with no moon in the sky, the light from the stars alone was enough to bathe the forest in a silver that was more like approaching dawn. Something else about them, too … what was it? Then it came to him. The stars weren’t twinkling at all. Their light was pure and unwavering.
He clamped his jaws together, tried to stop his teeth chattering.
How did I get here?
He’d fallen down a hole.
Then fallen from the sky.
It sounded like something from a terrible dream, but he knew it wasn’t. He’d had plenty of bad dreams—he was an expert—and right now this did not feel like a dream. But how had he gone from the
hole
to the
sky?
“It’s not possible,” he said quietly to himself, trying to reason this out. “I mean, that just doesn’t happen. Except … well, what about this? The tunnel goes right through the entire earth and spitsme out the other side into the heavens, and somehow I just crash-landed on a totally different world?” His breath snagged. That felt worse.
Much
worse. Now he wasn’t even on the same
world?
Wrapping his wings tightly around himself, he covered his head. His stomach roiled. He tried to think of something positive. At least he wasn’t dead. After a landing like that, he was lucky.
“So I’m here, and I’m not dead,” he muttered aloud, not feeling lucky in the slightest. He wanted this to be over now. He wanted to be back at Tree Haven. He’d face his mother, the elders. Luna. Maybe if he just slept, everything would be fixed when he woke up.
As if he could sleep.
Timidly he unfurled his wings and took another look. Same forest. Same strange stars. A beetle, bigger and spikier than any beetle had a right to be, droned past his nose, and Griffin grunted, momentarily distracted.
“That is one ugly bug,” he said. But he was too dispirited to pursue it. He felt no hunger at all, just a heavy, crushing despair.
There must be other bats here. He should go look. Maybe they could tell him where he was, help him get back home. But he stayed locked to his roost, gazing around fretfully. There was something weird about this place … something
wrong
with it.
Then it came to him.
No smell.
This forest had absolutely no smell. He blew hard through his nostrils, in case they were clogged, then tried again. No rich, loamy fragrance of soil, no leaf mould, no sharp tang of bark and pitch. He swung up onto the branch and put his nose right against it. Nothing. He tried a leaf—same thing. There was something terribly disturbing about all this. He frowned as he took a closer look at the leaves. Couldn’t quite place them. Some sort of oak, maybe. But a little further down, sprouting from the verysame branch, was a tuft of pine needles. Leaves and needles on the same tree? Completely freakish.
Instinctively he flattened his entire body against the bark. He was being watched.
Not just by one creature, but many. His fur tingled unpleasantly as dozens of sonic gazes bombarded him from all sides.
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