july_5: переводы

→Artegal dipped his left wing, and they turned in an arc until they were heading up the coast. They were able to rest for a few hours on the shore. The wind blew harshly here. Artegal tucked his neck in, pulled his tail close, and napped. Kay sat in the shelter of his body and watched the slate gray waves tumble and break on the rocky beach. She didn’t think she’d ever be warm again. But she also had a feeling, deep in her gut, that they were heading toward something, that they would find something, and the thought warmed her. She consulted the treasure map and its coordinates, comparing them to the numbers on her GPS tracker, and planned the next part of their journey.

→On the third day, they reached the Atlantic Ocean. They stopped briefly, touching down on the coast, flying a few miles along the shore. Then they touched down again, closer to a town on the horizon, where Kay’s cell phone found reception. Kay sent a text message to her mother: I’M ALL RIGHT. I LOVE YOU. She texted the same message to Jon and Tam.

→Many times, she heard aircraft, but could never be sure where they were. Sometimes she saw specks in the distance or running lights at night. Other times, Artegal would see something that caused him to veer and increase his speed. Dragons, in distant pursuit. But they weren’t caught. Their pursuers almost seemed like escorts.

→Artegal wanted to avoid dragons entirely. He couldn’t be sure that either of them was safe. So he flew, straight and fast as he could, stopping only for a few minutes at a time, just a few times a day. The rest of the time, he went on, tireless, determined. She stayed strapped in, nibbling on beef jerky and granola bars from her pack, sipping water, watching the sky swirl past above her. She slept on his back, heat radiating from him, helping keep her warm. His heartbeat pounded in her dreams.

→After entering Dragon, they turned east and landed an hour later so Kay could get warm again. She broke open a pack of hand warmers and put on her winter clothes, then secured their climbing ropes and harness, which Artegal had hidden yesterday. Flying with her clipped into his harness would be more comfortable for both of them. They didn’t stop for long; they didn’t want to be found.

→As soon as Artegal flew across the border, the requirements of the sacrifice were fulfilled and the dragons would call a truce. Or so she and Artegal hoped. Artegal was confident—he said the dragons had the greatest respect for this ritual. Kay hoped that the human side of the conflict would also respect what she had done and abide by a truce. As her mother had said, what they needed was a chance—a reason—to talk.

→Relieved, she sighed. Her muscles were stiff from staying crouched in the same position, and her body was sore from jerking against the harness. If nothing else, even if they didn’t find what they were looking for, here was land, and they could rest awhile before deciding what to do next.

→He startled her once by diving. She choked back a scream as she felt him hit the water and saw waves splashing on either side of his body, but a heartbeat later he was beating his wings hard and pulling up. She saw the tail of a huge fish dangling from his mouth before he sucked it in.

→A moment later, they spotted another dragon, with scarlet scales that flamed yellow and orange in the morning sun, flying to meet them. Kay squinted and saw a leather harness around its chest and a person riding on its back.

→On the fifth day, they saw a thin column of steam rising from a far northern, ice-locked shore. Artegal steered toward it.

→It felt as if she and the dragon hadn’t spoken in days. They would look at each other, ask a question with their gazes, and answer with nods. It was peaceful.

→Artegal was already tired, flying lower and lower, closer to the waves, and the beats of his wings slowed. But his neck was still straight, his head still pointed forward toward their destination. They were both coated in salt from ocean mist.

→The two jets followed a little longer. Artegal struggled to keep up his speed, despite the awkwardness of holding her. His lack of speed meant the jets could come close, though they stayed behind and to the side. Kay couldn’t see much detail on them, just their silver wings and bright sunlight glaring off the canopies. But after a few minutes the lead jet wagged, rocking back and forth a couple of times, before both planes tipped to their sides and peeled away, roaring back south. She imagined that was Captain Conner flying the lead plane.

→She was throwing off his balance, she could tell. His wing beats felt harder than usual, and he dipped to the left, where he was holding her. She tried to curl up as small and streamlined as she could. She found she was more sheltered here than on his back. She was in a pocket of still air while the wind swept around her. His toes were rigid, holding her as tightly as he could without crushing her. They were both afraid of her falling.

→Kay looked at Jon one more time. His face was stone, and his hands were clenched into fists. On an impulse, she ran forward, hugged him one more time, remembering how his arms felt around her. She thought that maybe Tam was right and they should have slept together. As Artegal said, no one could tell she was a virgin unless she told them. But there was no sense regretting anything now. Besides, she would see him again. She would. She had to believe that.

→The three attackers hovered, their wings scooping the air to keep them aloft, and looked down at her, their necks stretched forward and their heads tilted with what Kay thought must be amazement. They must have known what they were seeing. They must have thought they’d never see such a thing again. She could hear the jets, but it took her a moment to catch sight of them. Their path hadn’t changed, their circle bringing them back over the school—maybe they wouldn’t attack this near the town. Or maybe they were waiting to see why the dragons were waiting. Maybe the pilots were watching her, too.

→His pursuers stretched their hind claws forward, bared their razor teeth, and prepared to pounce on him. Then the familiar sounds of jet engines roared overhead: A pair of the F-22s, flying close, swung in a wide arc overhead, as if preparing to attack the dragons. The trio of dragon warriors veered and scattered. The jets looped around them in a circle that seemed to encompass the entire town.

→The dragons weren’t heading for the now-fleeing crowd, the news vans, or the buildings. They were heading for Artegal. Artegal responded, banking sharply, swooping, altering his flight. But they followed his erratic path, made their own swoops and maneuvers to surround him. Artegal was smaller than the others, younger, less experienced. No matter how much he dodged, veered, and changed his course, the others stayed with him. He might have escaped by flying high, straight, fast—away, in any direction. But he wouldn’t leave the area. He was waiting for her.

→On the fourth day, they saw land again: Greenland, if they’d set their course correctly. The shore was rocky, and the landscape beyond it was white, endlessly white, inhospitable with ice.

→After that, they left land behind. Then they couldn’t stop at all.