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will do if the owls demand compensation.”
    “We’ll worry about that later,” said Frieda sternly. “The boyonly did what many of you would have liked to—or maybe you’ve forgotten that. He is young and foolish, yes, but don’t be so quick to judge him. Thank you, Ariel. Shade. Rest well.”
    Frieda turned her piercing gaze on him once again, and Shade felt strangely illuminated by it. He looked back into the old bat’s dark eyes for only a moment (which was as much as he could endure) before humbly bowing his head and muttering his good-byes.
    By the time Shade and his mother left the elders’ roost, most of the colony was already asleep, hanging from their roosts, the newborns pressed close against their mothers, enfolded in their wings.
    “Wash up,” his mother told him when they’d settled back at their roost.
    Shade started licking the dust and grit from his wings. The owl already seemed like such a long time ago, but he conjured up the silent pounding of its wings, the quick whistle of its flashing claws.
    “We made a pretty great escape, didn’t we?” he said.
    “Thrilling,” said his mother tersely.
    “I really did see the sun, you know.”
    She nodded curtly.
    “Aren’t you interested?”
    “No.”
    “Are you still angry with me?”
    “No. But I don’t want you to be like your father.”
    “Not much chance of that,” Shade grimaced. “He was a big bat, right?”
    “Yes. He was a big bat. But you might be too, one day.”
    “Might.” It wasn’t very satisfying. He looked up from his licking. “Mom, a bat can’t kill an owl, can he?”
    “No,” she said. “No bat can.”
    “Right,” said Shade sadly. “They’re too big. There’s no way any bat could do it.”
    “Forget what Chinook said.”
    “Yeah,” said Shade.
    “Here, you’ve got a big dirty patch.” She came closer and began pulling her claws gently through the fur of his back.
    “I can do it,” said Shade, but only halfheartedly. He relaxed his aching shoulders as his mother combed through his fur again and again. A wonderful floating feeling lulled him, and he felt safe and warm and happy, and wished he could always be like this. But as he closed his eyes, the image of the rising sun, that dazzling sliver of light, still burned on the back of his eyelids.
    Shade tried to feel sorry for what he’d done, but it wasn’t easy, especially when he realized he was famous, at least to the newborns. The very next evening, Osric, Yara, Penumbra, and several others demanded a full retelling of his adventure with the owl, and he was only too happy to oblige, mostly sticking to the truth, but occasionally juicing it up with a few made-up details. Chinook stayed away, and Jarod too. But Shade knew it would all get back to them.
    He didn’t have long to revel in his new fame, though, because soon the roost emptied as all the bats left for the night’s hunting, and Shade had to stay behind. This was part of his punishment: He was grounded. He had to stay in Tree Haven all night with the old, boring bats who were too feeble to do much hunting, and preferred it inside anyway. For one hour at midnight he’d be allowed out to feed. But even then his mother would be right beside him, and he couldn’t stray out of sight of the roost. Hewasn’t too upset by this, since he knew they’d be leaving Tree Haven on their journey in two nights anyway, and his punishment would then be over.
    Still, he wasn’t going to let the time go to waste. Inside the trunk he practiced his take-offs and landings; he targeted twigs or bits of moss with his echo vision, pretending they were tiger moths, and dove in for the kill. And all the while he was thinking. About the sun, about the owls. And he thought about his father, who like him, had wanted to see the sun.
    Over the months he’d practically deafened his mother with questions about Cassiel, how he looked, what he was like. But try as he might he’d never been able to feel a connection