“Let’s pretend we’re sisters,” Isabella said. 

“Twin sisters!” Alijandra said. “But we don’t look alike.”

“We do look alike,” Isabella replied, holding her ragdoll next to Alijandra’s. “See?”

“Well, pretend we don’t,” Alijandra said. 

“All right,” Isabella said. “Twin sisters. And we’re getting ready for our birthday party.” She started to wrap a scrap of green cloth around her doll, then reconsidered and put it back on the small pile of rags between them.

After feeding the chickens and gathering firewood, Alijandra hadn’t any other chores to do, so she had taken their dolls and the scraps they used for dolls’ clothes and had gone to look for Isabella. She had walked the long way around the butte again, but she hadn’t seen the big, furry spider that she had found yesterday. She had walked for more than a mile before coming across her sister sitting in the shade of a scrawny thorntree, Jack lying next to her, panting and watching the five sheep grazing nearby. 

“How old will we be?”

“Fourteen. No, fifteen.”

“So that makes us grownups?” Alijandra asked. 

“Yes. So we have to dress very fancy for the party.”

“Caroleena will wear this dress,” Alijandra said, selecting a dark blue rag from the small pile of scraps between them. 

“A lady doesn’t wear a blue dress to her birthday party,” Isabella admonished her. “You can only wear white or pink. Mariana is wearing this one,” she said, selecting a tuft of raw wool.

“That’s not white,” Alijandra said. “It looks like yellow.”

“Just pretend,” Isabella replied. 

“Can I have it?” Alijandra asked. “It’s the only white one we have. And I hate pink.”

“We don’t have pink.”

“Well, then I’m going to wear blue, because I don’t like the other dresses.”

“All right, then, you can wear the blue dress. Because there are two of us, we have to have two cakes: one white and one blue, to match our dresses.”

“I like that. What else will we have?”

“Each of us has to have seven maidens of honor and seven gentleman escorts. A lady never goes to a party unescorted.” 

“Why not?” Alijandra asked.

“In case outlaws try to steal her jewelry.”

“We get jewelry?”

“We each get a crown and a bracelet and earrings and a necklace.”

“Caroleena doesn’t like bracelets. They bother her wrists.”

“Then she can have a ring instead.” Isabella took the rest of this morning’s cornbread from her apron pocket. “Do you want some?” she asked. Alijandra shook her head. Isabella bit into it. Jack cocked his head.

“No, you can’t have any,” Isabella told him. He glanced at her, then got up and walked around the girls. Isabella looked over at the sheep. They were still grazing contentedly. 

“I can’t get this dress to stay on Caroleena,” Alijandra said, holding out the doll for her sister to take.

“Let me try,” Isabella said. She put the rest of the cornbread in her lap and fumbled with the scrap for a few moments. She fished through the pile of rags and cloths, found a long piece of wool yarn, wrapped it around the blue scrap, and tied it. “There,” she said, handing Caroleena back to Alijandra. “Now that they’re dressed, they’ll go to the church for the Thanksgiving Ceremony,” Isabella said.

“Where are our—what did you call them? The people that go with us to the party.”

“The maidens of honor and the gentlemen escorts?” Isabella asked. Alijandra nodded. “We’ll have to pretend.”

“We could get some rocks or some sticks and wrap them in some clothes and they could be them,” Alijandra said. 

“No, let’s not bother with that,” Isabella replied. “So we start off inside the church.”

“I’ve never been to church,” Alijandra said. 

A low rumble, far away. Jack whined once, softly. 

“Yes, you have, two years ago, when we went to Esmargga. You just don’t remember.” 

“I remember,” Alijandra said. “That wasn’t a real church. It was just a mission.”

“A mission is a real church,” Isabella replied. “You don’t remember. You were just little.” 

“I do remember,” Alijandra insisted. “Papa borrowed a wagon and a horse from someone in town. It took us two days to get there and two days to come back. And it was cold in the wagon. And Papa said he didn’t like going because they wouldn’t let him bring his pistol inside.” Alijandra made a face. “I didn’t like it, either. Mama kept waking me up.”

“Don’t let Mama hear you say you didn’t like it,” Isabella said. “You’ll get in trouble.” 

The thorntree’s thin branches swayed overhead.

Isabella waved her hand. “After church, there’s a fancy party. With dancing—lots of dancing—and presents.”

“And the cakes, too?” Alijandra asked. 

“And the cakes, too.”

“Tell me about the dancing,” Alijandra said. 

Dark clouds began to spill across the end of the western sky. Something within them flashed once, twice. Jack flicked his tail hesitantly. 

“You’re going too fast. Let’s pretend we left the church. Because we’re princesses, the party is held at the palace, in a big hall.”

“So we’re princesses?” Alijandra asked.

“Our dolls are princesses,” Isabella said.

“What if they weren’t princesses?”

“If they were commoners instead of princesses, they might have their party in an orchard.”

“What’s an orchard?” Alijandra asked.

“A place where they grow fruit trees.”

“That sounds pretty—let’s have our party in an orchard! What kind of fruit do they grow there?”

“Any kind you like,” Isabella said. “Oranges. Limes. Guava. But we can’t have the party there. Only commoners do that.”

“We’re princesses: we can have our party wherever we want,” Alijandra said. “And when night time comes, we can hang lanterns in the trees and light up the whole party and we can dance.” 

More rumbling, louder now. Jack whimpered softly. The sheep looked up.

“All right,” Isabella said, “we—” And then she noticed the roiling grey clouds speeding across the sky, coming closer. 

“Ali, help me get the sheep,” she said. “We have to take them home.”

“What is it?” Alijandra asked, looking up. “Is it going to rain?”

“Yes, it’s rain,” Isabella said. But not just rain, she thought. That’s a storm. A bad one. 

“Jack?” she called. But Jack was whining as he watched the storm come. His legs trembled as he paced, tail tucked under him. 

“Jack, get the sheep!” Isabella said. He took a few steps toward them, still watching the storm clouds as they swept overhead and swallowed the sun, dimming the desert around them. The sheep began bleating and milling about. 

“Ali, help me get the sheep,” Isabella said. But Alijandra was scooping up the dolls and their clothes and stuffing them into the pocket of her apron. Something pounded again and again and again in Isabella’s chest. Something knotted and twisted in her belly as the sky darkened and lightning ripped across the clouds, jagging up, sideways, down. 

“Never mind the dolls—” Isabella said, but then something heavy and wet hit the back of her head. Something splashed on the front of her dress. A spot appeared in the dust next to her feet—then another spot—then a dozen more—than hundreds more. Everywhere was a sound like thousands of fingers tapping on tiny drums. Then— 

THOOM went the thunder. Ears flattened, Jack yelped and sprung into the air as if he had stepped on a snake. Alijandra screamed and covered her ears. The rain fell in sheets instead of drops, drenching the girls. “Don’t be afraid—it’s only rain!” Isabella yelled.

Shrieking like a hurt animal, the wind scattered the scraps that Alijandra hadn’t yet picked up. The thorntree twisted and lashed, a branch snarling Isabella’s hair and scratching her face. She pulled herself free, stabbing her fingers on more thorns. Owowowowowow! she thought, sucking her fingers. She wiped the rain from her eyes. The sheep were gone.

“Jack!” Jack was bolting, tail between his legs.

“Ali! We have to get the sheep!” Isabella yelled. But Alijandra was crouched under the tree, sobbing, clutching both dolls to her chest. Isabella looked around. No sign of the sheep. 

“Mama!” Alijandra screamed. “I want Mama!”

“Ali, stay here while I get the sheep!”

 “I want to go home!”

“We can’t go home without the sheep, Ali! We need them!”

THOOM went the thunder again, louder now. Ali screamed again and started running. Isabella chased after her, the rain and her sopping wet skirt slowing her down. “Ali! Ali!” Isabella grabbed her shoulder, stopping her. She scooped up Alijandra. “We’re going home!” Isabella said. “We’re going home! But you have to come with me. You’re running the wrong way!”

THOOM went the thunder, so loud that it pushed on Isabella’s chest like an enormous, invisible hand. Suddenly, she was struck by a horrible smell, like rotting meat. Her eyes itched and started to water. Her skin burned like she had spent all day in the summer sun. Then something huge and red and purple crashed to the ground just a few yards away from the girls. 

It was the venomdrake. 

Isabella screamed and crushed Alijandra against her and they fell. Writhing and shrieking, the venomdrake glanced at the girls for a moment with its tiny red eyes. Then its white, feathered wings pounded and the dragon lurched into the air. For an instant, Isabella saw something small and green swoop down to meet it. And then the world turned white as lightning exploded overhead, so close that the thunder went THOOOOOOOOM at the same time, much louder than ever before, so strong that the pebbles around the girls bounced. 

Alijandra was screaming, but for a moment or two, Isabella couldn’t hear her, or the rain, or anything else. I’ve gone deaf I’ve gone deaf I’ve gone deaf oh no no nonono she thought. Huge purple spots danced in front of her eyes from the last lightning burst. 

I can’t hear I can’t hear. But suddenly, she could hear again. 

“Mama! MAMA!” Alijandra sobbed.

“Let’s go!” Isabella shouted, and stood up, pulling Alijandra to her feet. Holding her little sister’s hand, Isabella began stumbling towards home. She couldn’t see the dragon or smell its awful stench, but she could hear it shrieking somewhere high above, in the churning black clouds. Lightning crackled from cloud to cloud, and every time it lashed, the dragon screeched again. They ran, picking their way among the rocks and boulders and cactuses. The rain pounded them. Alijandra, still crying, held the dolls against her chest with one arm and held her sister’s hand with the other. 

Something huge loomed out of the grey gloom and for a moment, Isabella thought, It’s the dragon it’s the dragon it’s going to kill us. But it was only the butte near their home. Sheets of water were pouring off the top, as if were a giant pitcher overflowing. She stopped Alijandra and pointed. “We’re almost there!” she shouted. “Keep running!”

“I can’t run anymore!” Alijandra cried.

“Give me the dolls,” Isabella said. “Keep up with me!”

They ran again. Suddenly, Isabella tripped and fell, skinning her knee, and she started crying, too. The rain, the doll clothes, Alijandra’s crying, the sheep, Jack running off, the dragon, falling down—it was finally too much for her. Isabella sat up and wailed, holding her knee. 

Alijandra, suddenly calm, stood by her and started picking gravel out of her big sister’s hair. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It will be okay. We’ll go home. To-Ho-Ne will fix your knee.”

“Shut up!” Isabella screamed. “Leave me alone!” 

“It will be okay,” Alijandra said. “It—”

HUFFAHUFFAHUFFA went something, and then there was a familiar whine. Panting, Jack padded back to them, head down, tail drooping.

“And you ran away!” Isabella yelled at the dog. “Stupid dog! I hate you!” She raised a hand to smack him and he cringed.

THOOOM went the thunder, but there was no screech from the sky—perhaps the dragon was gone?

“Bella! Ali!” their mother shouted, appearing out of the rain and the gloom. 

“Mama!” they yelled, and threw themselves into her arms. Like them, she was soaked, and her sandaled feet were muddy. Tiny bits of gravel clung to the hem of her dress. 

“Come on, girls, let’s get you home!” she shouted, above the storm.

“Mama, I saw a dragon!” Isabella sobbed. “And Jack ran away, and I fell, and I lost the sheep, and—” 

THOOOOM again, very close again.

“Come on!” Mama shouted. Taking each girl by the hand, Mama led them on a quick march, the sisters having to hustle to keep up. Jack loped behind, head still down. Once Alijandra started to stumble, and her mother pulled her up before she could fall. 

THOOOOOOOOM again, very loud, very close, almost overhead. Isabella tried to glance up to see if she could see the dragon again, but the rain was pouring down so hard and so heavy that her eyes hurt when the raindrops hit them. It’s almost like the thunder’s following us, she thought. How can that be?

High above, something shrieked. Alijandra screamed and buried her face in her mother’s leg. 

“Mama, that’s the dragon!” Isabella shouted. “The one I saw!”

“Run! Run!” Mama said. She hoisted Alijandra onto her hip. Isabella ran behind her mother. “Go, go, Bella!” her mother yelled. “Don’t wait! Just go!” 

Isabella ran as fast as she could. She didn’t dare look back for fear she might fall again. The rain and the thunder were so loud that she couldn’t hear her mother behind her. She could only run, her little house appearing out of the gloom, growing larger and larger with each second. The door was open. To-Ho-Ne was standing there, yelling something to her. Isabella couldn’t hear.

With a gasp, she threw herself into the old Diheneh woman’s arms. “Inside! Inside!” To-Ho-Ne said, pushing her through the door. Isabella staggered in and slumped to the floor. A moment later, her mother stumbled through the doorway and handed Alijandra—who was crying again—to To-Ho-Ne. Finally, Jack slunk inside and stood just inside the doorway, trembling, water running off him. 

“Come inside, fool dog!” To-Ho-Ne said, trying to shut the door. Jack glanced at her, then padded to a corner, shook himself, and curled up. 

Mama was leaning against a wall, eyes closed, face red, chest heaving. Her hair left a wet smear on the wall. To-Ho-Ne sat down in a chair and rocked Alijandra until her sobs quieted to whimpers and then sniffles. 

No one said anything. The wind moaned under the eaves of the house, rattling the windows and tugging on the door handle. Rain hammered on the roof. Jack flinched every time the lightning exploded and the thunder followed.

After a while, Mama said, “All right. Out of those wet clothes, girls. Dry off and put on your nightgowns.”

“It’s not bedtime,” Alijandra said. “We haven’t even had supper yet.”

“We’re not going back out today,” Mama said, “so you might as well get dressed for bed. And no, it’s not anywhere near suppertime, but To-Ho-Ne will make something to eat. We’ll feel better after we’ve eaten.”

“I cannot light the stove, Princess,” To-Ho-Ne told her. “The wind is too strong. And look—” she said, pointing to the three pots she had placed on the floor. Water dribbled from the roof; each pot was already half-full. 

“I will have to fix those tomorrow,” Mama said, “if the rain has stopped. Well, then, our meal will be cold. I’m sorry, girls.”

“Mama, I saw a dragon,” Isabella said. “It looked like a snake, with wings like a bird.”

“I saw it, too!” Alijandra added. “It was scary.”

“Your eyes were playing tricks on you,” Mama replied. “There aren’t any dragons within a hundred miles of here. Your father said so, and he should know.”

“But we both saw it, Mama,” Isabella said. 

“Let’s talk about this in the morning,” Mama said. 

“Is the dragon going to get us?” Alijandra asked. 

“There is no dragon, and even if there were, it would not get us,” Mama said. 

They took off their wet clothes and dried off, wrung out their clothes over the big tin tub and hung them from the rafters to dry. They put on their nightclothes. To-Ho-Ne lit the kerosene lamp. Then she opened the door and emptied the pots, then put them back in their places to catch more rain leaking through the roof. 

The four of them sat at the table and picked at some beans and rice. No one said anything. Jack lay in the corner, looking up at each of them in turn. Sheets of rain beat against the window. 

“Do you think it’s a hurricane?” Isabella asked. 

“No,” her mother replied. “Hurricanes don’t come here.” 

“It looks like it could be a hurricane,” Isabella said.

“How would you know what a hurricane looks like?” her mother asked, smiling wanly. 

“Papa told me about them,” the older girl said.

“What’s a hurricane?” Alijandra asked. 

“A big storm,” Isabella said. “Like this one.”

“I’ll bet Papa’s been in a hurricane,” Alijandra said. “I’ll bet he’s been in ten of them.”

“Papa has been in a hurricane before,” Mama said. “Just once, a long time ago.”

“When Papa goes away, does he sleep outside?” Alijandra asked. 

“Most of the time, yes,” her mother replied. “He camps in a tent.” 

“I wonder if he’s getting rained on right now,” Alijandra said.

“I’m sure Papa is not getting rained on. He’s probably very far from here,” Mama told her.

“When is he coming back?” Alijandra asked.

“Enough talk, children,” To-Ho-Ne said. “Eat.”

They finished their meal and cleaned up. Alijandra sat on the floor with their dolls and the scraps she had managed to save. 

“Caroleena’s soaking wet,” she told Isabella. 

“Mariana, too,” Isabella said. 

“Do you want to play?” Alijandra asked. Isabella shook her head. “Me, either,” Alijandra said.

The girls scrubbed their teeth and To-Ho-Ne brushed and braided their hair. Mama sat at the table and watched the storm. When To-Ho-Ne was done with her, Isabella came and stood by Mama.

“I’m sorry I lost the sheep.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Mama said. “They would have been too frightened to listen to you or to mind Jack. They’ve probably found somewhere safe, out of the rain. The storm won’t last long: we’ll find them tomorrow.”

“What if we don’t find them tomorrow?” Isabella asked. “What if they didn’t find somewhere safe? What if they just ran and ran, and now they’re a long ways off, too far to come home? What if a cougar gets them? Or coyotes?”

“They’ll be all right, Bella,” her mother said. “When the rain stops, Jack will find them. He has a good nose, and he’s very clever.”

“He’s just a dog,” Isabella said.

“You say that as if being a dog isn’t any good.”

“He ran off when the storm started. He left Ali and me.”

“He was frightened. I was frightened, too. Weren’t you?”

“Yes,” Isabella said. “But now…now, I’m just upset,” she added, wiping her eyes.

“Why?” Mama asked, wrapping her in her arms. “What’s wrong, dearheart?” 

Isabella wept. “Because…because we need them. So we can sell their wool. So we can have money. So we can buy things. And now they’re gone and we’re not going to be able to get any more and we won’t have any wool and we won’t have any money and we won’t have any food and what’s going to happen to us?” She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.

Mama scooped Isabella into her lap and rocked her. “Hush, now, Bella. Don’t think like that. Don’t. “We’ll see what happens tomorrow. We’ll see.”

Outside, the storm went on. 
 
 

“Mama, look at the lakes,” Alijandra said. 

The orange sun was peeking over the butte and Isabella and Alijandra and their mother stood in their doorway. Outside, huge puddles of water, some three inches deep, lay in front of their little house.

“They’re not lakes,” Mama said. “They’re from the rain yesterday.”

Jack squeezed past them, nearly knocking over Alijandra. “Hey!” the little girl shouted, but the big black dog was already splashing through the puddles. Splooshasplooshasplooshasploosha his feet went, as he bounded from one to another to another, tail flailing. 

“Ha!” Alijandra squealed. She tried to yank her hand out of her mother’s grip and follow Jack. 

“No!” her mother said, pulling her back. “You will not go running around, splashing and getting filthy like that fool there.” 

“Bella wants to run in the puddles, too,” Alijandra said.

“Can we, Mama?” Isabella asked.

Jack splashed to a halt in front of them. He barked, tail wagging slowly. Then he barked again and danced away, around the corner of the house and out of sight. 

“Are we wild mongrels, without brains in our heads and no sense of dignity, or are we young ladies?” their mother asked, taking their hands and leading them outside, away from the puddles. To-Ho-Ne followed them, carrying two thick wool blankets. “No, we are young ladies,” their mother answered herself, “and we always behave as young ladies.”

To-Ho-Ne bent down, kissed Alijandra’s cheek, and wrapped a small blanket around her. She straightened, smiling, and held out the other blanket for Isabella.

“No thank you,” the older girl said. “I’m warm enough.” 

“It’s cold,” the Diheneh woman said.

“I’m not cold.” To-Ho-Ne winked at her and offered the blanket to the girls’ mother, who wrapped it around herself. 

“Thank you, dearheart,” their mother said, kissing the old woman on the cheek. To-Ho-Ne hugged her tightly.

“It is always like this after a heavy storm,” To-Ho-Ne said. “The soil is shallow and underneath is rock. It is very hard for water to soak into the ground. The sun will dry up most of this by tomorrow. It has been a very long time since I saw a storm that strong,” she continued. “And it came very early, too. If a heavy rain comes, it comes much later in the year.”

They walked around the outside of the house, but found no damage. “A miracle,” Mama said.

“Your husband and Mr. Dempsey built this house well, Princess,” To-Ho-Ne told her.

“Yes, they did,” Mama replied. “But my garden’s ruined.” 

Most of the squash and tomatoes and bean plants and peas had been torn out of the ground or pulverized by rain or simply drowned. “Perhaps the potatoes have survived,” To-Ho-Ne told them, “but it is too early to tell.”

Alijandra turned to Mama and raised her arms. Mama scooped her up and held her on her hip.

“What will we eat?” Isabella asked. “Are we going to starve?”

“No, we will not starve,” her mother said. “We’ll save what we can, and we have some food stored.” Alijandra hugged her neck. She stroked the little girl’s cheek for a moment, then set her down. “Let’s walk around. Maybe we’ll find our sheep.”

“I hope my spider is all right,” Alijandra said.

“Your spider?” Mama asked. 

“I found a spider—a big one—the other day. The day you sent me to bring water to Isabella. I named her Leonor. I hope nothing happened to her in the storm.”

“I’m sure Leonor is all right,” Mama said. 

“I hope so,” Alijandra said. “She and I just became friends. It would be terrible to lose her when we’ve hardly been friends for very long.”

They wandered, the girls first, the grown-ups following, Jack sniffing along last. They avoided the ponds of muddy water—the dog was content, it seemed, to dry out. Bushes lay on their sides or upside down, roots curling up to the sky. Stones that were grey when dry glistened with bands of coppery orange and dusky blue and greens that looked like moss, but of course were not. Some of the scrawny trees near their house had snapped, but most had survived.

“Princess,” To-Ho-Ne said, pointing to the ground. A few feet away, a soggy, muddy feather as long as a cavalry saber lay at the bottom of a puddle. Isabella remembered the red and purple dragon with its enormous white wings and for a moment everything went grey and she felt like she was going to fall down and throw up at the same time. She put her arm around To-Ho-Ne’s waist and felt the old Diheneh woman’s hand on the back of her neck and she breathed deeply once, twice, and felt better. Neither grownup noticed. 

They went over to look at, Jack sniffing intently. “I’ve never seen a feather that large, if that’s what it really is,” the girls’ mother said. “Have you?” she asked To-Ho-Ne. 

“No.”

“What is it? Where did it come from?” Mama asked.

“It’s from the dragon, Mama,” Alijandra said. “The one we saw yesterday. Can I pick it up, Mama?”

“Don’t touch it,” Mama said. “It’s wet and dirty and who knows what it might have. Let’s keep walking.”

“Look, Mama,” Isabella said, pointing to the sky. Vultures were circling down to land near the butte. 
“Jack, go!” Mama said. Jack pushed past them and sprinted off, barking furiously. Mama and the girls chased after him; To-Ho-Ne plodded along behind.

The sheep died, Isabella thought, as she ran. The storm killed them. They were hit by lightning or a tree fell on them or a boulder rolled over on them or they just drowned in the rain somehow and now they’re dead and we won’t have any wool to sell and we don’t have much food and I told Mama this would happen I told her and now what are we going to do?

They caught up to Jack. The black-headed vultures circled and squawked and spat, and Jack, well-pleased with himself, pranced beneath them, still barking. But it was not the sheep. 

The venomdrake’s head and most of its serpentine body, including its crumpled, feathered wings, lay on the rocky ground; its tail had flattened a clump of barrel cactuses. A stream of purplish-black ichor oozed out from a hole in the side of the beast. Its swollen purple tongue—as long as Isabella was tall—hung out of its gaping mouth, the pointed tip buried in the grey gravel. Hundreds of beetles and bugs, centipedes and hoppers, orange venom-ants and shiny brown deathroaches scuttled up the tongue and among the dragon’s needle-like teeth and along its puffy white gums and down the tongue again. Midges and gnats, flies and coffin wasps, gargoyle bugs and four-winged flatdevils flitted and hovered and buzzed on and above the dragon. A yellow, crusty film was starting to cover the dead beast’s eyes, which were no bigger than Alijandra’s.

“Ugh,” their mother said, holding her hand over nose and mouth. 

“Bella was right,” Alijandra said.

 “Have you ever seen one like this before, To-Ho-Ne?” Mama asked.

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a venomdrake, a very dangerous dragon.” 

Jack crept up to the carcass. Sniffed it. Lifted a paw. Sniffed again, snout extended. Backed away. Accustomed to waiting, the vultures circled higher.

“So this is the one you saw yesterday?” Mama asked. Isabella nodded. 

“Hmm,” her mother said. They looked at the dead dragon. Alijandra found a stick and threw it. Jack chased it, brought it back, but would not give it to her. She tugged on the stick and giggled as he growled. 

“Leave his stick alone, Ali,” Isabella called.

“It’s all right. He’s only playing,” her mother said.

To-Ho-Ne put her arm around Isabella. “You must have been very frightened,” she said.

“Yes,” the girl replied. “Yes.” 

Alijandra let go of the stick and Jack ran off with it. Alijandra pinched her nose shut, picked up a rock, and threw it at the dragon, hitting it on the neck. A whirling cloud of insects erupted, buzzed angrily, settled again on the carcass.

“Why don’t you look around and find us some pretty stones to take home?” Mama asked.

“Yes, Mama! Bella, come on!” 

“You go, Ali. I want to ask Mama something.”

The little girl shrugged and started wandering away from the dragon. “I will help you, Alijandra,” To-Ho-Ne said, following her. They walked a bit, squatted, picked up pebbles, moved on, gathered pebbles again.

“What should we do with it?” Isabella asked.

“That?” her mother asked. Isabella nodded. “There is nothing we can do with it, Bella. It is too big to bury. We will have to leave it here. The vultures and the insects will help get rid of it.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“That is the way of the world. I don’t want you or Ali coming down here to play until this thing is gone. Rotten things are filthy and cause disease. Promise me you won’t go near it and that you won’t let your sister near it, either. Especially Ali. You know how she is.” 

“Yes, Mama. I promise.” 

Her mother stroked Isabella’s hair. “I was wrong to doubt you. It’s just that your father hasn’t seen a dragon around here for many years.”

“It’s all right, Mama.” They held each other tightly. 

Her mother kissed the top of her head, then said, “Let’s find the sheep. To-Ho-Ne!” she called. “Alijandra!”

The little girl and the old Diheneh woman came back. “Look how many rocks we found, Mama!” Alijandra said, holding out her hand. In it were two gray-and-blue stones, one red-and grey stone, and an orange-and-brown stone.

“Very pretty,” Mama said. “Now listen carefully to me, Ali: I don’t want you or Bella going near that dead dragon, all right?” Alijandra nodded. “Good. We have to find the sheep. To-Ho-Ne and I will go this way—” Mama said, pointing southeast, “—and your girls and Jack will go that way,” pointing northwest. “Walk along and count to 500. When you get to 500, turn around and come back the way you came. That way, you won’t get lost, too.”

“Should we count fast or slow?” Alijandra asked. “I can count really fast—”

“Don’t be a pest,” Isabella said, taking her hand. “We’ll be back soon, Mama. Don’t worry.”

Alijandra waved to her mother and To-Ho-Ne and they started walking, Isabella counting in her head, Alijandra counting out loud. Jack trotted along, tail curled over his back, ears cocked up, tongue hanging just over the edge of his black lip. When Isabella had gotten to 197, she heard the gushing and splashing of water. When she got to 258, they came to an arroyo half-filled with rushing water. 

“Look at that!” Alijandra exclaimed, letting go of her sister and pointing at the water. “Where did it all come from?”

“Don’t go near that!” Isabella said, grabbing Alijandra’s hand again. “You’ll fall in and drown yourself. It must be a flood from the rain yesterday.”

“So now we have a river near our house!” 

“I don’t know. Let’s look for the sheep. Maybe they came down here for a drink.”

They walked along, Isabella counting steps and making sure to keep herself between Alijandra and the lip of the arroyo. Jack scrambled down the side of the arroyo, going down about six or seven feet, lapped up some water, then climbed back up and trotted after them.

When Isabella got to 317, she saw something yellowy-white lying at the edge of the water. 

“What’s that?” Alijandra asked.

“Don’t look,” Isabella said. Her stomach suddenly felt very tight. “Stay up here. Find some more pebbles for Mama and To-Ho-Ne.”

Alijandra frowned. “I want to see.”

“No, you don’t,” Isabella said. “Now do as I say.”

Isabella started picking her way down the side of the arroyo. Jack started after her. “No,” she said, pointing back at her sister. “Stay with Ali.” Jack paused. His tail flicked left, right, left, stopped. “Stay with Ali.” He turned, climbed back up, sat down next to Alijandra.

“Good boy,” Isabella said. “You two just wait for me.”

Her sandals sank into the gritty gray-brown mud of the arroyo: she hated the cold, wet feel of it on her feet. Leaning forward, steadying herself on larger rocks, she half-walked, half-crawled closer to the water’s edge, where the yellow-white thing lay. Fighting the smell, she leaned closer, ignoring the cloud of flies that erupted from it. 

No. Nonononono, she thought. She sat down on a stone. Where are the others? And what will we do if we don’t find them? 

I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

“Can I see?” Alijandra called.

“No!” Isabella said. “I told you to go find some rocks for Mama.”

“There aren’t any good ones here.”

“Well, go look for some.”

“Can I go that way?” Alijandra pointed along the arroyo, away from where the sheep lay.

“Yes,” Isabella said. “But don’t go too far. Count to twenty slowly and then come back.”

“How about if I count to thirty?”

“Ali, just go! And don’t get lost. Or fall in. I need to think for a minute. Take Jack with you.”

“Come on, boy.” Alijandra went off, counting slowly out loud and walking near the rim of the arroyo. Jack trotted in between her and the edge. 

By the time she got to eleven, the arroyo had deepened, so that the water was about twenty feet below her instead of the six or seven feet that Isabella had climbed down. The walls of the arroyo had holes in them, some as small as her fist and just as shallow, others larger and deeper. 

She got to twenty but still hadn’t seen any pebbles that she had liked, so Alijandra kept walking and started counting again from one. 

When she had counted to seventeen for the second time, Jack stopped and sniffed the air. His tail quivered once, twice. He whined in his throat and trembled.

“Ja—” Alijandra started to say, but the big black dog bounded off away from the arroyo, mud and gravel flung into the air as something small and brown and grey raced off, zigzagging between rocks and bushes and cactuses, Jack in pursuit. 

“Jack!” Alijandra called, but he did not heed. For a split second, Alijandra saw the long ears and tail of the jackrabbit as it leapt over a spiky agave plant, and then it was gone, and Jack with it. 

“Stupid dog,” Alijandra frowned. She looked around, but did not see her sister. She cupped her hands and shouted, “Bella!” 

Nothing, She shouted again. Still no reply.

“Jack!” 

Nothing.

“I’ll just wait here, then,” she said, and sat down on a rock. She rested her elbows on her knees and propped up her chin. 

There on the ground, between her sandals, was something silvery and wet. Alijandra put her finger into it. It was warm and sticky. She sniffed it, but it had no smell. She wiped it off on her dress. 

Something plopped onto her head.

She looked up at the spindly algarroba bush behind her. A few drops of the silver goo were on the branch right over her. 

“Ugh,” she said, wiping her hair with her hands and then smearing the stuff on her dress again. She got up and walked toward the edge of the arroyo. At the lip of the arroyo was another silvery splotch, almost as big as her hand. 

She crouched down to look at it. Whatever it was, the flies seemed to like it.

She glanced over the rim of the arroyo and saw that something had tumbled down the muddy wall and come to rest about halfway down. It was the little green dragon. Its eyes were closed. One of its legs was twisted and bent. The silver stuff dribbled from its belly, its nose, its mouth, and slopped onto the mud. A long smear of it went up the wall of gulch, back towards Alijandra. 

“Blood,” Alijandra realized. 
 
 

© Kenton Kilgore, June 2007