“We do the drills, the jets patrol—is it because we really think they’re going to attack?” If most of the dragons were like Artegal, she didn’t believe they would.

“It’s hard to say. We just don’t know enough about them.”

“Do you think there’ll ever be another war with them?” What had been banter in the hall at school had become an appalling idea.

“I hope not. The way I see it, my job’s keeping the peace. The more peaceful it is, the better I look.” He grinned.

She must have been staring off into space, frowning and thoughtful, because her father said, “You’re not worried about the dragons, are you?”

Yes. At least, she worried about one dragon…. “No,” she said quickly. “Not any more than usual.” She tried to figure out how to change the subject. Her father did it for her.

“You’re sure you had a good time? You seem a little down.”

“Oh no, I was just thinking.” He gave her a questioning look, prompting more detail. She’d be better off calling it a night and running away to her room. She took a deep breath and said, “How did you know? You and Mom, I mean. How did you know you wanted to be together?”

He leaned back against the sofa, glancing at the ceiling. Avoiding the question, she thought. He’d say something trite and tell her to go to bed.

She was surprised when he shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not something I can put into words. We just knew. Well, I knew. She took a little persuading.” His smile turned wry.

Kay wondered what her mother would say if she asked her the same question. His answer didn’t help much. It was the same thing Tam always said: It just felt right.

Kay just felt confused.

Her father said, “I like Jon. He’s a good kid.”

She’d have to tell Jon that, so he could stop worrying about Sheriff Wyatt coming after him. Kay smirked and said, “So you want me to go out with him, too.”

“If you’re ready. I don’t want you to get involved if you don’t want to.”

She sighed. “But how do I know if I’m ready?”

“Sorry, kid. Can’t help you with that one.”

He seemed smug. He had that look that adults got when they thought their kids were being cute. She sighed again.

He came over and kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to hit the sack. Don’t forget to turn the lights out.”

“Night, Dad.”

She followed suit a few minutes later, carefully hanging her dress in the closet before going to bed.

The weather turned cold. Snow fell, and the edges of the creek at the border froze, forming a crystalline skin that crept out over the running water. Kay went to their meeting spot bundled up in her parka, with scarf, hat, gloves, and thermals under her clothes.

Artegal didn’t seem bothered by the cold at all. His breath blew out through his nose in billowing clouds of fog.

“So I guess dragons are warm-blooded,” she said to him by way of greeting.

He tilted his head, curious. “Warm-blooded? Of course, blood is warm.”

“Well, yeah. But it means you’re not really reptiles.” She tried to remember all those science class notes and wished she’d paid more attention. “Reptiles are cold-blooded. They can’t keep warm by themselves, so they have to sit out in the sun. Warm-blooded animals maintain their own body temperature, so they can be out in the cold. People have always wondered about dragons. No one’s been able to get a blood sample or take their temperature or anything to find out.” Imagine getting a dragon to sit still for that.

“Reptiles. Small, scaled creatures. Snakes, lizards.”

“Yes.”

They sometimes still had trouble with vocabulary. But the more they talked, the more he learned. She could tell he was getting better. She wondered sometimes if she wasn’t the best person in the world to be helping him—plenty of people were smarter. He could be learning so much more from them. Then again, the really smart people didn’t do things like go climbing on the border of Dragon. Maybe she was exactly the right person to be here. She’d earned this chance.

“We are to them as you are to mice. Like them, but far removed. We have scales like them, but we have more.”

Like speech, for example, though only some dragons learned to speak human languages—like Artegal and his mentor. Kay was getting answers to questions her mother faced in her work monitoring the border, and the scientists would love this. As if she could tell anyone. She didn’t even dare make notes, in case someone found them.

She said, “We see a glow sometimes, to the north toward the mountains. Like something’s on fire. It was there last week. I could almost see dragons flying around it.”

He rested, his wings folded to his side, propped up on his elbows, back legs tucked under him, and tail curled around his body. He nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing.

“Nobody knows what it is,” she said, hinting. “We know it has something to do with dragons, but we don’t know what.”

“We see a glow all the time from your town. Lit up, all night long.”

“Streetlights. We can’t see in the dark, like dragons can,” she said.

“Used to be humans didn’t go out at night at all.”

“Well, now we do. Now we can.”

Artegal resettled himself, flexing his tail and shifting his forelimbs. He seemed to be considering how to answer.

Kay sat on her usual rock nearby, so they could look at each other at almost the same level. His expression seemed uncertain, though she could have been wrong. He couldn’t think that she’d been sent to spy on him, any more than she thought he was sent to spy on her and learn more about people—right? They’d found each other by accident.

“You don’t have to tell me if it’s a secret,” she said.

“It’s like singing,” he said finally. “Like a choir.”

She tried to imagine a dozen dragons like him, raising their necks, tilting back their heads, flames pouring from their open mouths along with music. Music that sounded like roaring. It was an odd image.

“Is it like a celebration? It must be special. It only happens a couple of times a year.”

“Yes. A ritual. Births. Deaths.”

“What was last week?”

Again, he hesitated. This was one of the questions the scientists—and the military—kept asking: How many of them were there? How often were they born—or hatched? How much did we have to worry about them building up numbers and overwhelming us?

“A birth,” he said after a long moment.

She felt an odd thrill that he trusted her with the information.

“Congratulations,” she said.

He tilted his head in the way that made her think of a smile. “Thank you.”

“Have you done it yet?” Tam asked.

It was the first day back at school after winter break. Kay was reacquainting herself with her locker, wincing because she’d forgotten to bring home a baggie of cookies that someone had given her for Christmas. They were probably stale. Tam was leaning on the locker next to her, making demands.

Kay and Jon had gone out a couple of times during the break. They went to a movie and grabbed dinner at the Alpine Diner. They’d gone cross-country skiing the day after a big snowfall on New Year’s. They hadn’t done anything they wouldn’t have done when they were “just friends.” The presents they’d given each other were the same kind of thing they’d always given each other. She gave him a CD; he gave her a box of chemical hand-warmers, perfect for days of winter hiking or cross-country skiing. She hadn’t expected anything like flowers or jewelry—she wouldn’t have wanted anything like that, not from Jon.

It didn’t really feel different. They hadn’t done any more than kiss good night.

Kay decided to pretend that she didn’t know what Tam was talking about. “Done what?”

Tam rolled her eyes in disgust. “Come on, you know. You’ve been going out with Jon for like a month. Have you slept with him yet?”