White Road

up on the rail. Sebrahn immediately took his place on Alec’s lap. A lone raven called from the forest, followed by the bright trill of a willow tit. Sparrows, doves, and a little green bird he’d forgotten the name of pecked at the crusts scattered on the ground for them. A few tiny brown dragons scuttled among them, too, and more scrambled and chirped for the red and yellow boiled millet and honeyed milk set out just for them. Several fluttered up to perch on Sebrahn and Alec’s hands. Sebrahn patted them, and one curled up in the rhekaro’s lap and went to sleep. Alec shook his head, smiling. Maybe Sebrahn was a “dragon friend,” like the man Seregil had mentioned?
    There were more dragonlings here in the mountains than at Sarikali, according to Kheeta, and it certainly appeared to be true. He spotted several in the rafters overhead, and more perched on the railings and chairs. It was for that reason that no one in Bôkthersa kept cats. He hadn’t seen any in Sarikali, either, though cats were common enough in Gedre. Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen a dragon in Gedre.
    The fingerlings didn’t disappear during the winter, either, like a lizard or snake. The one he held at the moment was warm to the touch, perhaps from the fire in its belly. Or maybe they were like Sebrahn, and just didn’t feel the cold at all? Or Sebrahn was like them.
    Just then he heard laughter, and a gang of small children came running through the snow toward him. Stopping near the porch, they set about trying to make snowballs with the dry new snow. Grinning, Alec slogged out to help, with Sebrahn trailing along behind.
    “You won’t have much luck with this,” he told them, scooping up a handful and letting it blow away on the breeze.
    A little girl pouted up at him. “We wanted to make a family.”
    “Of snow people? It’s just too dry. How about making snowbirds?”
    “How do you do that?” a little boy demanded, wiping his runny nose on the back of an already crusty mitten.
    By way of answer, Alec fell over onto his back and fanned his arms and legs, making the wings and tail as Illia and Beka had taught him during a winter visit to Watermead.
    The children were delighted. Soon there was a large flock of snowbirds on the slope and everyone was dusted with snow.
    Everyone except Sebrahn.
    “How come your little boy doesn’t play?” the girl, whose name was Silma, asked. Sebrahn was standing where Alec had left him, looking down at the first bird Alec had made.
    “He doesn’t know how,” Alec replied. “Maybe you can show him?”
    Silma and her friends gathered around the rhekaro, then fell back and flailed around, crying, “You, too! Like this!”
    Sebrahn looked to Alec, who smiled and nodded. Sebrahn immediately fell on his back across one of Silma’s birds and slowly imitated what the others were doing.
    “He ruined mine!” Silma cried, offended.
    “He didn’t mean to.” Alec pulled Sebrahn to his feet anddirected him to a patch of smooth snow. “There, do another one.”
    Sebrahn fell facedown this time, but made a passable bird.
    “Very good!” Alec picked him up and dusted the snow from his coat and leggings, then helped the children make more up and down the hillside.
    He’d assumed Sebrahn was doing the same, until Silma asked, “Why doesn’t your little boy have any boots?”
    Sure enough, Sebrahn had gotten them off when Alec wasn’t looking. There they lay, up the slope, and there Sebrahn was, barefoot again.
    “My mama would be angry if I went barefoot in the winter,” another chimed in. “She says your toes can break off just like icicles. How come his mama didn’t give him any boots?”
    “He doesn’t have a mama,” Alec told her, and the words seemed to stick in his throat. Seeing Sebrahn among real children like this, he could no longer hold on to the fantasy that Sebrahn was anything natural. Sebrahn was something else entirely, and no more Alec’s kin than the clouds in the sky.
    He trudged up the slope to get Sebrahn’s boots, blinking back sudden tears he didn’t want the children to see.
    He picked up the boots and knocked out the snow that had gotten inside them.
    Sebrahn had followed him. He stared up at Alec, and then the boots. “Bad.”
    “No, they’re not!” Alec growled. Sitting down heavily in the snow, he pulled Sebrahn into his lap and wrestled one boot back on, tying it tightly.
    Sebrahn looked up at him and said again, “Baaad.”
    Alec