The breeze wafting in from the coast lifted the grass and tickled her nose. Eve sniffed and then rolled over on her side gently, waking up from a restless sleep. She watched the boys through the flickering flames as they slept. Cain's limbs were flung out, and he took deep breaths in and out, his chest rising and falling with the tempo of his heart. Abel slept neatly, his body compact, his arms flat against his sides and his legs together. His breaths were lighter, fainter.

It had been nearly a year since Eve had changed them, and she was still not convinced it had been a good idea. At first, the boys had been terrified of her and huddled together. They had refused to meet her gaze. They hadn't accepted any of the food she had given them. Cain and Abel clearly had felt like she had betrayed them, and perhaps she had, though she could not think of a time when she had said she was human. But over time, they had grown used to one another again. The blood had healed Abel, and both boys were stronger and tougher than before. They did not grow cold as easily, and they did not have the wild, starved look that had been haunting them before. Eventually, it was almost as if nothing had passed between them. But sometimes, Eve would see them look at each other secretively, and she knew that they told each other things they never told her; that their closeness with each other was real, but there would always be a barrier between them and her.

Still, she did not regret her actions. The changing had saved them. Since she had changed them, they had been able to absorb more nutrients from leaves and grass, even as Eve and other dragons could, and they were starting to bulk up noticeably. The challenge would be making sure they were near enough grass and vegetation to satisfy their needs.

Eve rose from her resting place in the meadow. It was a muggy day, and her throat felt dry. She decided to walk down to the creek in the woods for a cool drink of water.

Eve proceeded across the clearing where they had camped out and stepped lightly so as not to wake up Cain or Abel. As she made her way through the woods, she wondered again if Eden was near. She knew how to divine from her formal training in fate and fortune from the seer she studied with during her childhood. Without alarming the boys, she had been scattering stones and using a makeshift pendulum to help her discern their best path forward. She wondered if it was the same place Jaco and Iris had been thinking of when they'd told the boys to keep going south. The three travelers had crossed many miles, but there was always more land ahead, always more challenges. It didn't help that sometimes the land broke and they had to go miles and miles out of their way; and, of course, every day they had to find food to survive. Even on good days, the deep snow made walking laborious and slow.

Despite these things, the stones had told her they were on the right track; they simply needed to keep going.

For how long? Eve wondered. Abel would be sixteen soon, a man by the reckoning of his people, but none of them had seen a single other human being since the old man in the cave.

As she walked back to the camp, Eve shivered despite her warm dragon's blood. She watched the leaves above her fall down in a surreal shower. They stuck in her hair and fell across her eyes, tickling her nose and lips, dry and dead. She smacked them away and looked up at the sky, trying to make sense of how it had morphed from a serene morning sunrise to a pouring ice storm. The answer came to her bitter and hard, Amos.

"Eve." His voice permeated the air, and she saw his image before her. His gleaming serpentine form curled before her, the dull blue-gray of ice. He was not here in truth, but the illusion was almost as real as the actuality. Not only could she see him, she could also smell him-the fish on his breath; the deep-set rot that had been growing inside him for decades, the ice. His breath caressed her face as the illusion came closer, and it suddenly came to Eve that he was projecting his image with such vitality that his true body, wherever it was, must have become semi-translucent to support his spirit.

"Amos, I didn't think I would see you again," she said, and tried to plaster a neutral expression on her face. She decided to try to maximize their conversation to glean as many clues as possible on how to defeat him. "And how are you? It's been a long time. Almost five years, in fact. You're not looking well."

Amos cackled, his breath fanning her hair back. His eyes twitched and blinked, more deranged then she'd ever seen them. It was no wonder his vision for the planet and all humanity was so misguided, she mused, if he had become this mad. She hardly recognized him anymore as the dragon who had been her childhood friend.

"I wonder how you've lived this long without the fire that fuels us," Eve said, finding the courage to speak again.

"Dragons have existed since the dawn of time," Amos replied, his answer dripping with arrogance and, yes, Eve felt, fear. "You're alive. Why shouldn't I be as well?"

"Then why are we the last ones?" she said, her bitterness betraying just how much she really cared to know.

"You know why, Eve. The answer lies back in Eden."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I've already erased your memory, Eve. You will never know the answer to my question. And that is why you will never defeat me," he said, his enormous stomach heaving up and down as he wheezed a chilling laughter. "Unless . . ." His eyes glazed over as he realized he had said too much, and he vanished. She opened her mouth in surprise.

The sun emerged from behind the storm clouds, and the icy sleet stopped. Eve raised her hands in front of her, wondering, hopeful, and afraid.