'Not listening to what?' I growled. 'I can't talk to you anymore.'

The island was closer, filling up more and more of the horizon. My insides tightened with a nervous joy to have returned, even without the objects I'd left to find. There were people here I knew. People here that I did trust more than I trusted anyone else. Would I be able to find them now? Would they be willing to help me?

Pie arrived as we descended. I wasn't hungry, but I knew I would be. Gripping the edge of the plate, I hoped I could keep it from fading away. What had Pat said about how long the pie plates lasted? I was sure I remembered reading about her experiments with them... She had done experiments with everything. Suddenly I wished she hadn't turned into a zombie.

We flew to the cliffs. I kept my resurfacing anger at what Trollmother had done sufficiently bottled, biting my lip as we found Randywine curled against the shadowed side of the mountain. I closed my eyes but still took in the mangled, skinless carcass of the fallen Jaccairn through the others'. They surrounded what was left of her. Her bones were black, her skeleton so huge...

Evidently there was no danger in being here. Orrdos and Trollmother had taken what they wanted and gone their way. I would find them. I would follow them anywhere...

The dragons sighed long, hot sighs over Jaccairn. Her flesh burned slowly. I tried to shut out the image of it, thinking instead of revenge, of who I would have to interrogate or enlist to help me find them. But I found myself crying anyway. Just crying over everything I didn't understand.

Lyia was still with us, pacing the air near the cliff's edge.

Stil clutching my pie plate, I walked over to her.

'You aren't eating,' she observed.

I simply stared at her.

'That's good,' she continued. 'You don't have to eat that stuff. Who knows what he puts in it.'

I nearly choked on my next breath. Shaking my head, I turned to the east. The cliffs ended and the ocean began and there was nothing but thundering currents and rolling surf. My eyes watered relentlessly.

By the time I quit crying I was starving. I stared straight at Lyia, every bite I took making her wince. I couldn't even tell what kind of pie it was.

After licking it clean, I threw the empty plate at her. She blinked out of existence and didn't come back. I would have laughed, but all amusement was buried down deep under everything else. My senses were stretched out far beyond myself, taking in the smoke and dirt and melting, the smell of sparks and the seeping of chemicals from within that circle of dragons. I couldn't block it out.

The island seemed to hum under my feet. Om, I pried, Om... help me find them.

You're talking to me?

I squinted off into space. Of course I am.

Om Kranti stepped backwards and turned. I felt her tongue curl against her teeth. Who? she asked.

Anyone.

I ran to her. Has this ever happened before? Anything like this?

Her answer didn't come in words. I understood at once that as catastrophic and impossible as all the pain had been for me, it was nothing new to these immortal creatures. That doesn't make sense, I thought. It isn't fair, is it?

My dragon coughed, saying nothing.

So you know how to fix it? How to stop it?

The answer to this, if it can be called an answer, was also wordless. My mind raced to make connections, predictions. I was feeling mostly helpless. Om reluctantly left the others and carried me over the trees toward the sandier shore.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to prepare myself to face Brad the wonder llama again. If he didn't know what was going on, no one would. If he did know what was going on and wouldn't tell me, I would have him eaten. If he didn't know what was going on...

I closed my eyes. So much blackness. So much emptiness being sliced and smoothed into so many separate bodies. I pressed the palms of my hands as flat as I could against her scales, laid my face against her throat, and whimpered. We left behind the softening skeleton of our fallen Jaccairn. Randywine led the others into the mountain, crawling through the caves and tunnels to where the dead one had left her eggs. I didn't have to ask Om what would happen next. I knew they would hatch, how long it would take, and what color the new dragons would be. But I didn't know what I was going to do about it.

I let Om scan the trees, distractedly keeping my own thoughts half on her vision and half in my dreams. The world in my head was so much brighter. Things didn't make any more sense there, but they looked as though they might, eventually.

There were hardly any yaks, we noticed. Many of the trees had been stripped of foliage, their branches broken apart. Maybe they were adding on to their underground fortress. Some faces I recognized turned up to stare at us as we flew: Buzzfloyd, Electric Man, Scrub and his friends. Om passed them all. I later thought we might have asked any of them for information about the llama, but soon enough we caught sight of him near the caves of the Words. I wondered if he would run, but he merely shivered and stood there, barely tilting his head at all to watch us land.

on the corner

Just as I'd imagined it, Om curled her tail swiftly but carefully around all four of his hairy legs and lifted him into the air. I opened my eyes to the sight of the llama upside-down and gasping for breath. This time I laughed and laughed. Still, it wasn't a very happy laugh.

Brad couldn't speak, so I took as much control of the conversation as I could.

'Well?'

I squinted menacingly. Om shook the creature, just a little. He croaked and gnashed his large yellow teeth. I scoffed at him, and reluctantly bade Om set him down again, realizing I wasn't going to get any answers if he couldn't breathe.

My dragon leaned down and bared her teeth while I hopped from her back.

'Tell me what I've missed, llama,' I demanded.

He spent several minutes coughing. Long minutes. I nearly kicked him.

'Took you long enough to come back, Plaid,' he grumbled. 'I'm sorry about the dragon they killed.'

My skin burned on the inside, irked that he even dare apologize. Through clenched teeth I demanded again, 'Tell me everything.'

His eyes rolled to the side. Om hissed. I stamped my foot and growled at him further.

'It's really great you think I'm still running the show here, I guess,' he said, blinking. 'What I know is that great fool and his elephant have struck too many bargains for their own good. And his Doormen--what's left of them--they'll never fix it all, no matter how hard they try.' He laughed weakly and started coughing again. I glared.

Puzzlement kept me from throwing further questions at him. Brad filled my silence, speaking shakily but loud. 'And the mermaidens are desperate. So desperate they've... they've gone mad, I think. I haven't a clue what they think they'll accomplish with their silly spells and dreams. Nothing seems real anymore. Go ahead and killl me,' he said to my dragon.

My glare faded into a curious pity. I waited.

'The island is falling apart, Plaid.' The llama looked up at me and ran his tongue across his nose.

'What about the socks?'

He croaked again, throwing a small glance back toward the north shore. 'Without a single filthy pirate around? Why bother?'

I squinted at the ground. 'Well...' was all I could think to say.

He clomped his teeth and flopped down in the grass. 'Yeah,' he answered.

'Where did they go?' I asked.

'The pirates? Meh. Ganged up and killed each other, mostly. Your guess is as good as anyone's about the rest of 'em.'

'No,' I said. 'Trollmother. Orrdos.' The anger rose, just a little, behind my words.

Brad laughed.

I let him laugh without pressing Om into any further threatening poses.

'Come on, Brad,' I grumbled. 'Tell me what's going on. Deals with who? What spells? And Fred... wasn't he... didn't I... Is it revenge? Or what? There's got to be a reason somewhere...'

His laughing subsided, but he didn't answer.

'You think you can figure this place out on your own,' he sneered. 'You assume the place of dragonmother and you feel like you deserve answers?' He snorted. 'Why don't you just take a guess at how long I've been on this island.'

<author's note>

is anyone there?

I'll assume someone is.

anyway, I want to keep writing this. but I'm not sure the boards are the best place for it anymore. I love the way it's been set up so far, and how motivating it has been in the past for this little writing project... but... I don't know. I'm not sure about much of anything regarding TPI these days...

anyone else have an opinion? suggestions on what else I could do with it? where else it could live? why I should even bother? etc. etc. etc?

</author's note>

joe pancake?

I don't know... everyone seems to be moving their stuff to wordpress or similar blog sites, and offer update alert via facebook...

"Hoher Sinn liegt oft im kindischen Spiel." (Friedrich Schiller)