The Edge of Worlds (The Books of the Raksura, #4)

by Martha Wells

Niran wasn’t sure that was any better, since the Raksura just gave grandfather more mobility and opportunities to find something that might kill him.

Moon couldn’t see Stone for a moment, then finally spotted him. He was in his groundling form, half-buried in the warm sand above the waterline. Groundlings are right; Raksura are strange, Moon thought, not for the first time.

She said, “I don’t suppose you’re going to bite me.” “Not unless you ask nicely,” Moon told her. She blinked, then made a huffing noise he assumed was a laugh, and opened her satchel.

That's our boy

Chime glanced back, saw them, and stepped over to Moon with a relieved wince. “Are you all right? You don’t look all right.” “If I move around, it’ll heal faster,” Moon said. It sounded right. Chime’s concerned expression turned exasperated. “No, not really.”

Moon you beautiful dumbass

“You’re all idiots,” Stone said, gave Bramble a shove to the head, and walked out. Bramble slumped and sighed in relief. “Stone still loves us.”

What the shit is going on? Moon thought.

Indeed

Merit wished he could spell the huge walls for light, but that was far beyond his abilities.

So.. wait.. does he know someone who *can*? Did this used to be a thing?

Jade turned to answer, though her spines were drooping and she had clearly used up every ounce of energy she had left. Moon decided he was going to take drastic action. He stumbled a little, then shifted to his groundling form and collapsed. Jade caught him with a startled hiss, and Moon went limp.

Moon. Darling boy.

Stone leaned over for a close look at Jade. Satisfied, he said, “I’m going to go collapse dramatically on Rorra,” and walked out.

“You all are such a cheery bunch,” Rorra said. Stone’s voice was dry. “That means so much, coming from you.” “He only talks like that to people he likes,” Moon said. Rorra’s frown turned a little alarmed.

Clinging to the hull of the ship only a few paces above the waterline, River thought, I should have a plan. Stupid Moon would have had a plan.

It struck Moon, suddenly and horribly, how much this was like a conversation with stubborn fledglings. “How old are you?” She looked at the dakti again. Then turned back to Moon as if one of them had answered some unspoken question. “Twenty turns.” Twenty turns was barely old enough for an Aeriat to leave the nurseries.

It would have been easy to say she was unconcerned, unaffected, except for the fact that here she was, having travelled from across the Reaches and the coast and the sea and halfway into the ocean to be here when he needed her.

And finally Moon knows what it is to not be left behind

Moon woke finally, far more alert, to realize it was night and the liquid lights had been adjusted to a soft glow. Song’s dead, he remembered again, and squeezed his eyes shut until his self-control returned.

This is exactly what grief feels like