FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Chapter Twenty Two

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Mirelle woke when soft morning light first filtered into the cave. At first she lingered half-asleep, her groggy consciousness awash in fading dreams. Confusion settled across her mind as unknown worlds crumbled around her to reveal an even more surreal reality. She found herself leaning against a dragon, his foreleg curled around her as if protection. It took Mirelle a few moments of wondering how the hell she ended up sleeping against Revaramek before the memories flooded her. Mirelle shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. Her stomach heaved, and blood ran as ice through every vein.

The fall.

She’d almost…

But she hadn’t.

Because of him. Because of Revaramek. And he’d almost…

But he hadn’t. Because of her.

Damn dragon.

She’d really thought the scaly bastard had ended himself to save her. Mirelle wondered if he knew how long he’d gone without breathing, after smashing himself into the mud to save her. And how the hell did he even do that? Of all the times to truly do something worth calling resplendent. If she hadn’t been so terrified, she would have been in awe of the dragon’s magnificence in those last horrible moments before impact.

Mirelle had glimpsed him now and then as she fell. He seemed so far away, and each time he got closer, he missed her. Yet each time he came after her again, until it was too late. Until there was no way for him to save her without killing himself in the attempt. He had to know, and yet somehow, he’d done the impossible.

The memory erupted in her mind, a frozen moment of impossible beauty. Revaramek, etched against the evening sky, his forelegs outstretched for her. Fire and determination shone in his bronze eyes. The sun, resting on the horizon, cast its glow across his green and copper scales, silhouetting him in flame. As if he burned a hole through the sky itself in order to save her.

She could almost hear Asterbury cackling. Burning through the vellum, he changes the story. Mirelle shuddered. Gods, how she wanted to lift that screeching rodent off the ground with her boot for putting that nonsense in poor Revaramek’s head.

Mirelle scowled. Poor Revaramek? Was that how she was going to think of him now? It wasn’t his fault he was so susceptible to crazy suggestions. His whole life seemed to revolve around viewing the world through the lens of a story. He seemed to have little genuine understanding of reality outside the scope of the tales he’d been told in his youth, and he only did what he’d heard of dragons doing in stories. With all the maidens he claimed to have known, Mirelle could only imagine half of them were terrified and filled his mind with twisted variations of the old myths, where the dragons were the heroes instead of the dragonslayers.

Until the day the dragonslayers came for him.

It still didn’t all add up, but perhaps she was more the fool for expecting a dragon to conform to human standards of civilized behavior. If nothing else, she knew now just how gods-damned lonely the dragon must have been in his youth. And once he was bound to the truce, no one was forced to “visit” him anymore. He couldn’t even go and see what distant friends he did have. No wonder he’d taken so swiftly to Beka and Tavaat.

Will you be my friend?

Revaramek’s voice echoed in her head. He may as well have been squeezing her heart in his claws when he’d asked her that. In that moment, crying because he missed his mother, the dragon could not possibly have seemed more vulnerable, more exposed, or more alone. It was a question a child would ask, spoken with such brutal, hopeful honesty. Only then did Mirelle start to understand.

He’s delusional.

He really was living in his own little reality, some fantasy world where he was benevolent overlord and everyone loved him. If he was to be forced to dwell in the reality where he was practically a slave, where he couldn’t visit his friends, where no one cared about him, he needed an anchor. Someone here who cared for him, some reason to grow to accept his reality.

Mirelle took a breath, and held it as long as she could. She set a hand upon the dragon’s foreleg, gently stroking his copper-striped scutes. She let it out in a long, quiet sigh. “I’ll be your friend, Rev.” She’d already told him as much the night before, but the more she thought about it, the more she felt the need to confirm it to herself. “I’ll be your friend.”

Revaramek murmured in his sleep. His paws twitched, an ear flicked. One wing shuddered. That twice now she’d seen the dragon sleeping, and twice he’d been dreaming. Mirelle wondered what sort of dreams a dragon had. She hoped they were pleasant, whatever they were. Though she could no longer recall her dreams, she vaguely recalled they were peaceful. A far cry better than the nightmares about falling she had feared. The dragon murmured again, but Mirelle couldn’t understand the syllables. She wasn’t sure if he was just muttering incomprehensible things, or if he was speaking some other language.

Come to think of it, Mirelle wasn’t sure if dragons had their own language. All the local villages shared a common tongue, and Revaramek spoke it as fluently as she did. He’d lived out in that marsh for most of his life, so he’d had plenty of time to learn it, but now she wondered if he his kind had words of their own. She was sure Tavaat’s people had their own language but she’d only ever heard him mutter a few words of it under his breath. Which probably meant he was cursing her out.

While Revaramek slept, Mirelle turned her head, looking him over. In the growing light, he looked beat to hell. Gashes and punctures marked his limbs and neck, cuts marred his face and muzzle. Dried blood and other material crusted a few of the dragon’s wounds. All along his back, green scales were cracked and broken. Some of them were missing entirely, leaving patches of pale green skin, wildly discolored by heavy bruising. She could only imagine how bad the inside of him must look.

Mirelle stroked the dragon’s foreleg again, rubbing a single flat green scute with a few fingers. Several wounds from claws and teeth marked that limb. She was careful not to draw her hand too near them, not wanting to prod tender flesh and wake him. At least the wounds looked clean enough, and considering the size of his leg, not too deep. Still, some of the injuries looked ragged, hints of red muscle exposed beyond the broken green scales and skin. Stitches would certainly help them heal faster, but Mirelle couldn’t even sew a dress, much less a creature’s flesh.

Dried mud on the back of her own hand caught Mirelle’s eye. The dragon had bathed after they landed, but she hadn’t done the same. Hell, after that ordeal she was probably still in shock. She barely even recalled the flight or the landing. She remembered him catching her, and she remembered jumping on his chest to try and make him breathe, to make his heart beat. Then they were here. Bits and pieces of the journey crept back to her, but once the adrenaline faded, once they were both safe, the shock of it all settled in. At least she’d felt…safe. She knew he wouldn’t drop her.

She’d better go bathe before she got mud in his wounds. With any luck, she could slip away without waking him. The Gods knew Revaramek needed his sleep to heal. And a bath would be easier without worrying about him trying to peek at her, or Gods forbid, join her in the water. She chuckled to herself, shaking her head. Somehow she doubted a bit of growing respect for one another was going to make him any less of an obnoxious pervert. Ah, well, she always had her boots.

Mirelle slipped her hands beneath the dragon’s foreleg, hoping he was a sound sleeper. She eased the heavy limb up enough to slip out from under it, then settled it back down. She watched Revaramek long enough to see that the dragon’s breathing was still slow and even. She patted his scales, and slipped out of the cave. The entrance was big enough for her, but must have been quite a squeeze for Revaramek. Hadn’t he said he took maidens here? It was hardly romantic. Then again, Mirelle the sort of woman who was excited at the prospect of being a dragon’s maiden must have expected a grubby cave anyway.

Sunlight bathed the hillside and the marsh beyond in its golden flame. Mirelle shielded her eyes and stared across the land. The hill the dragon selected was the highest around, only the looming mountains to the east rose higher. She beheld a beautiful view, the thick forest of pine and fir rose and fell across the smaller hills, gradually giving way to the cypresses, willows and oaks more common to the marshland below. Beyond the hills, there was so much water glimmering in the sunlight it was almost like gazing upon a golden ocean. It sometimes amazed Mirelle that all the water flowing through the marsh didn’t just rise in the spring rains and wash everything away.

Without much trouble, Mirelle located Revaramek’s paw prints, and followed them into the pine forest. The trees here were ancient, even bigger than those back home around her village. She doubted she could even get her arms around some of them. Their vast, blue-green canopies stretched across the sky, and left the air filled with their fresh, invigorating scent. Pinecones and dried needles crunched beneath her boots. Ferns and moss occupied all the shady areas, with odd vines and bright flowers taking up nooks between exposed roots. Birdsong and insect calls drifted through the still air. An angry blue jay flitted from bough to bough, chiding her for getting too close to its nest.

The sound of burbling water grew as Rev’s paw prints led her to the stream he’d mentioned the night before. The clear water splashed across time-smoothed stones, twisting and turning amongst the trees. A spot of open, mossy bank near a deep bend seemed a suitable place to bath. More prints and flattened areas along the shore told her the dragon agreed.

Mirelle pulled her boots off first. They were muddy, but thankfully not sodden. She clapped them together a few times to knock off as much of the dried mud as she could, then set them aside. Then she stripped off the rest of her clothing, and set it all alongside the water. She’d have to wash it as well, and let it dry in a patch of sun.

Once she was naked, Mirelle waded into the water. She shivered as she went deeper. It was colder than she’d expected, but not so cold as to be unpleasant. She took a deep breath, braced herself, and submerged completely. A moment later she came up gasping and wiping her eyes. Maybe it was colder than she thought. She took a few breaths, and made her way to a part of the pool in the sunlight to help ease the chill.

After adjusting to the water, Mirelle fetched her clothes. She may as well wash those first so they’d have time to dry. She dunked each item of clothing into the water, scrubbing it with her hands. Once she got all the mud washed she tossed her clothes on the bank, washing her blouse last.

She wished she had her soaps and things, but all the supplies she’d brought with had been in her pack, and that was left back in town somewhere. Mirelle grit her teeth at the memory. Gods, they couldn’t even protect one village. She hoped Asterbury hadn’t burned it like the others. Those poor people. She squeezed her wet blouse in her hands, growling. They were losing their homes, or worse, and she was out here…taking a damn bath!

Mirelle sighed, forcing herself to relax. She couldn’t do anything to help them now. They were going to need help, and that would take time to find. For now, she couldn’t let anger and sorrow take hold. She scrubbed mud from her shirt with her hands, rinsing it in the water. They would help those people as soon as they could. She just hoped Asterbury didn’t try to press his advantage and attack her own village while she and Revaramek were sidelined. Given the nature of the other dragon’s injuries, they’d need time to heal too. Or…would they? Asterbury had done something to heal that va’chaak, something Mirelle did not understand. Could he do the same thing for the dragon? Gods, what if he already had and they were off burning her home right now?

Mirelle took a breath, and let it out slow. “Hold it together, Mirelle. One thing at a time. At least now the rest of the council will believe you. Small consolation at this point.”

Heavy crunching drew her from her thoughts. She glanced up and saw Revaramek moving through the forest, pine cones crushed under his paws, ferns trampled. Low hanging boughs snapped off against his scaly body. Mirelle rolled her eyes and turned away from him, wading into deeper water to keep her body covered. She returned to scrubbing her blouse.

“Do you always talk to yourself while you’re bathing?” His voice reached her before he did.

Mirelle cringed. She’d forgotten how sensitive his hearing was. “Do you always blunder through the forest and break everything in sight?”

The dragon snorted. “I’m not blundering.”

“If you say so. Now if you wouldn’t mind going away for a little while, I’m bathing here.”

“Yes, I noticed. That’s why I used the word bathing.” He tossed his head, pawing at the mossy bank. “Move aside, I should to join you.”

Mirelle stiffened, glaring at him over her shoulder. “Certainly not!”

“But are we not friends now?”

“Being friends doesn’t mean you get to bathe with me.” She held up her soaked blouse. It was as clean as she’d be able to get it. She wadded it up and tossed it onto a mossy spot on the bank. “Make yourself useful, will you? Hang that over a branch. And my breeches too.”

Revaramek grumbled under his breath. He plucked her blouse up, stared at it, and tossed it into a tree. “There.”

“Hey!” Mirelle stomped a foot under the water.

“What?” The dragon gave his head an indignant toss. “It’s over a branch.”

“I meant where I could reach it.”

“Did you?” Revaramek smirked at her. “You should have clarified that.” He snatched up her soaked breeches and draped them over a lower hanging bough. “Like that?”

“Yes. Now the blouse, too.” Mirelle worked all the mud and grime from her skin beneath the water. “You don’t want me to have to stretch for that.”

“Oh, but it would be such a lovely sight.” The dragon licked his muzzle and settled onto his haunches, staring at her.

“You think that now.” Mirelle smirked to herself, rubbing an arm. “But if you get that sort of look at me, you’re going to get such a kick to go with it.”

Revaramek winced and curled his tail around his hind paws. “You’re not even wearing your boots. I’m not afraid of you and your kicks!”

“And I’m not afraid to kick you while I’m barefoot. So if you want to find out how much less it hurts without the boots, by all means, sneak a peek.”

“Really?” Revaramek cocked his head.

Mirelle shrugged, trying not to laugh. “You’re the one who’ll be wriggling about on the ground, like a worm pulled from the earth.”

“I do not wriggle like a worm!” Revaramek stomped a forepaw, then splayed his ears. “I…roll around in a dignified manner, to express the unbearable agony you’ve inflicted upon me.”

Mirelle giggled, shaking her head. “You’re an odd creature. Besides, it can’t be as bad as all that if you keep pressing your luck. If I didn’t know better, I’d start to think you liked it.”

“Oh hah hah, woman.” The dragon arched his neck, grinning. “I like the attention and the banter and seeing you angry, but I don’t like the end result.”

“If you say so.” Mirelle dunked herself, working her hands through her hair beneath the water. She popped back up, tossed her wet hair back, and wiped rivulets of water from her face. “I’ll be getting out soon, and I’ll expect you to turn your back while I dress.”

“Must I? Can’t I have a little peek?”

“No.” Mirelle wrung her hair.

“I’ve seen human women naked before, you know.” The dragon perked his ears.

“I gathered as much. But that has nothing to do with it.” Mirelle waved a dripping hand across the water. “I’ve seen men naked, but that doesn’t give me the right to peek at them when they’re bathing.”

“What if they wished you to?”

“They’re men, so I suspect they’re always hoping some woman will take a peek.” She giggled, squeezing more water out of her hair. “But that’s beside the point. Now, I’m as clean as I’m going to be, so I’m about ready to get out and get dressed. Get my shirt out of that tree, and then I’ll expect you to go over there.” She pointed to a far stretch of bank. “And not look.”

“And if I do look?” He pulled the shirt down and draped it over a lower branch.

“Then I get to try out my new boots on you after all.” She smirked, arms folded.

“And here I thought we were friends now.”

“And I thought you said we weren’t to speak of that again.” Mirelle shrugged. “We are, but friend or not, if you act like a pervert I’ll treat you like one.”

“Would you kick Tavaat if you caught him peeking at you while you were unclothed?”

“In a heartbeat. But Tavaat respects me more than that, and-”

“What if Beka was peeking?”

“That’s different. Beka’s a woman. She and I have bathed together before, when-”

“Oh, reaaally?”

“Oh, Gods.” Mirelle ran her hand down her face. “Just turn around, unless you’re so desperate to see a naked woman you’re willing to let your boys take one for the team.”

“Well…” Revaramek licked his muzzle, shifting his weight. “It has been an awfully long time…”

“Your choice, Dragon. But I’m getting out now, and if you so much as get an eyeful-”

“Alright, alright.” Revaramek hissed and turned around, padding down the bank a few paces. He flopped onto his haunches, grumbling. “Happy?”

“Yes. And no peeking over your wings, either.” Mirelle waded back towards the shore, keeping an eye on the dragon.

“What if I peek, but you don’t catch me?”

Mirelle couldn’t help but laugh as she walked onto the bank. After what happened the day before, his persistence didn’t seem so obnoxious. “I suppose if I don’t catch you, you’d get a free peek. But knowing you, you’d brag about it and get yourself caught after all.”

Revaramek snorted, sweeping his tail across the ground. His webbed spines tore up moss. “Aren’t your clothes still soaked?”

“Oh, damn.” Mirelle strode to the tree where he’d laid out her shirt and breeches. She’d gotten so wrapped up in getting dressed without the dragon watching that she’d forgotten all about letting them dry. “Suppose there are worse things than wearing wet clothes.”

“They shall dry swiftly enough when we take to the skies.”

Mirelle shivered. Oh. Right. The skies. She glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see the dragon staring at her after that comment. Instead, he was peering off into the forest. So far so good. She fetched her cream colored blouse and shook it out. Mirelle twisted it up, wringing the water from it.

“How long is this going to take?”

Mirelle glanced over her shoulder. The dragon was still looking the other way. “As long as it needs to. I’ve got to wring the water out.” She twisted her blouse harder, smirking. “Are you peeking at my butt, dragon?”

“No!”

Mirelle giggled, unable to tell if that was genuine denial or false plea for innocence. “I should have just asked you if you liked it.”

“I’d have said I wasn’t looking.”

“Uh huh.” Mirelle squeezed the last of the water from her blouse, then shook it in the air a few more times. “I’d have expected you to blurt out something like, of course you liked such a nice ass.” Smirking, she pulled her damp blouse over her head.

“I think we already proved you don’t like it when I say nice ass, since last time you kicked me in the eggs.”

Mirelle tugged her shirt down, laughing. “No, I kicked you because you slapped it, not because you gave it a crude compliment.”

“Nonetheless, if I appreciated what I saw, I’d have said something far nicer this time.”

“You say that as if you haven’t already snuck two peeks.” Grinning, Mirelle reached for her breeches. She wrung them out just as she had her shirt. “Or three.”

“I shall admit nothing.”

“That sounds like an admission to me.”

“It isn’t. In light of our friendship, I am resisting the urge to look at you unclothed.” The dragon shifted, his wings rustled. “I should like it to be noted that it is with great effort on my part.”

Mirelle wrung out the other leg of her breeches, glancing back. His gaze remained fixed on a far tree. “Noted. Why do you like human females so much, anyway? We don’t look anything like you.”

“I refuse to answer that question.” The dragon tossed his head, but didn’t look back. “You’ll call me names again.”

“I will not.”

“You’ll call me a pervert.”

“I asked the question, Dragon.” Mirelle twisted the hem of her breeches, squeezing out water. “I understand what kind of answer it will garner, so I won’t insult you. I’m just curious. If you’re not comfortable talking about it, I understand.”

“It’s not as if I only like human females.” Revaramek curled his neck, tilting his head as he spoke. He waved a paw. “I like all females. I love female dragons just as much, and female gryphons. But since you asked specifically about humans, they’re soft and smooth, and their hands are delicate and warm and gentle. It’s all very exotic to a dragon. It wasn’t as if I just decided to find them attractive, no more than I decided to find female dragons attractive. I just did. And the maidens used to comfort me, keep me company. They’d read to me when I was young, and lonely.” His voice softened and his head hung. “Sometimes I miss that more than anything else.”

“I see.” Mirelle shook out her breeches, furrowing her brow. She hadn’t really expected that last part, but then again, what had she expected? It almost sounded as if he’d grown up with them. Hardly surprising such an attraction might develop. She wanted to ask him more about them reading to him but now hardly seemed like the time. “Thank you for explaining. I can see how that might appeal to a dragon.”

“You’re welcome. Hardly the sort of thing I’d expect someone like you to want to know.”

“You say that as if you think I’m a prude, Dragon.” When the dragon didn’t reply, she glanced back at him. “I’m not a prude.”

Revaramek snorted, flexing his wings. “Are you almost done?”

“Yes, yes, keep your…well, whatever expression you dragons might use to ask for patience.” Mirelle stepped into her breeches, and pulled them up, glancing back at the dragon. A devious smirk crossed her lips. “Last chance to peek.”

Revaramek arched his neck. “I respect you too much to do such a thing.”

“In other words, you don’t want a kick.”

“Also that.”

“Oh, go on then.” Mirelle left her breeches down just enough to leave her rump bared.

“What? You’ll kick me.”

“I won’t kick you just for seeing my butt for a second or so, so take a look if you’re that desperate.”

Revaramek twisted his head around, peering back over his wings. His eyes widened, and as soon as he was looking Mirelle hoisted her breeches the rest of the way up and buttoned them. She turned around, hands on her hips as the dragon smiled at her.

“There, happy?”

“Happier, yes. Though if that was your attempt to prove you are not a prude, it’s hardly enough.”

Mirelle just sighed. “I’m getting my boots.”

Revaramek gave a playful yelp. “Then I’m getting out of range!” He trotted to the water, sloshing in and splashing about. Once he was safe, he lifted his spines, and offered her an open-muzzle smile. “Thank you, though. Brief a peek as it may have been, it was nevertheless a beautiful sight.”

Mirelle laughed as she carried her boots to the water’s edge. She crouched down to scoop some water and gently rinse the mud from the outside of them. “You’re welcome. Seemed you’ve earned it. Though I’d hardly call it beautiful.”

“Think I’ve earned more than that.”

“Maybe you can ask Beka, then.” Mirelle smirked, rinsing her other boot.

“Oooh, she did take to bathing me rather swiftly.”

“So I noticed.”

“As for calling it beautiful, the word is appropriate.” The dragon settled onto his belly beneath the water, sinking into the deepest part of the pool till just his head rested just above the surface. “There are many things about you I would call beautiful.”

Mirelle paused and gave the dragon a smile. “Such as?”

“What, now you want to be flattered?”

Mirelle shrugged, grinning. “Surely you dragons can’t be the only creatures that appreciate a little flattery.”

“Very well.” Revaramek flared his spines up as he spoke. “Your hair is wild and untamed, much like your spirit. Your eyes are like polished topaz, and your-”

Mirelle held up a hand, heat rising in her cheeks. “Those are lovely compliments, dragon, but you’d best stop before you tell me I look well fed, again.”

Revaramek snorted. “I still don’t see why that is not a compliment. I prefer a supple, soft maiden to one who’s all skin and bones. If I told a female dragon she looked well fed, she’d take quite a bit of pride in that. It is a compliment to her health, and her hunting skills.”

“Bit different for us.” Mirelle stepped into one of her boots, still smiling about his earlier compliments. “But thank you just the same.”

“If you were wondering, I was also going to say now that I’ve seen them, your haunches are beautiful, soft and round.”

“My haunches?” Mirelle gave the dragon an incredulous look as she laced up her boot. “You really don’t know how to quit when you’re ahead.”

“Would you have rather I said ass?”

“I…well…how would a female dragon react to being told that?”

“Well, she would take offense, because a female dragon’s haunches should be scaled, not soft. And they are more of a…” He gestured with his paw. “Curved shape, like that. Well you saw Aylaryl.”

“I can’t say I was looking at her ass, Rev.” Mirelle laced up her other boot. “And I don’t think I really want to talk about her right now.” A shudder coursed through her, her belly dropped to her boots at the memory of being yanked aloft and tossed aside to fall to her death. “In fact I’d rather not talk about her ever again, but I doubt I’ll have that option. How are you feeling today? Your wounds didn’t look too bad this morning.”

The dragon lifted his head, his spiny frills all pinned back as if the pain only hit when she reminded him he was injured. “Sore. The water is not helping, but it will keep them clean. My wings are horribly stuff, but not so bad as to keep me from flight.”

“And the wounds inside you?” Mirelle walked to a patch of moss in the sun and sat down. She stretched her legs and rested her palms against the ground. “Any more coughing today?”

“When I first woke, yes. But there wasn’t much blood, and it did not hurt quite as bad as yesterday.” The dragon cocked his head, gazing down at her. “You are not a physician are you?”

“Not in the least, unfortunately.” Mirelle wriggled her toes in her boots. At least they were dry, unlike the rest of her. “I know food, and ale and price regulations and things, but I don’t know the first thing about the healer’s arts. Though, I can take an uneducated guess that some of those wounds require stitches.”

“Oh…” He licked his nose, rising back to his feet. Water ran down his body, and he peered at one of the larger wounds along his forelimb. “Like in the tales, where the hero is injured, and they have to sew him together again?”

Mirelle smirked. “Something like that, yes.”

“That usually seems to happen after the all is lost moment.” He cocked his head back the other direction, his frills rising to show off their golden edges. “We haven’t lost all, have we Mirelle?”

Mirelle grimaced and swallowed. “We came awful damn close.”

“Hrrrmmm…” Revaramek sloshed up out of the stream. Water cascaded down his pebbly scales. He tensed up as he padded up the shore.

“If you’re about to shake yourself off like a dog, go do it over there.” She pointed towards the forest. “I’m trying to get dry.”

“Very well.” The dragon slunk a little ways into the forest, then gave his entire body a violent shake. “Will they hurt?” He stretched his wings and shook them separately.

“The stitches? Probably. I’ve never had them, myself.”

“Awwrrrr…” He bared his fangs, hissing. “Then I don’t want them.”

“You don’t want ragged wounds that take ages to heal, either.”

“I don’t want needles and things poking me.” Revaramek padded back to Mirelle. He eased down onto his belly alongside her, groaning in discomfort. “I am in enough pain.”

Mirelle shifted to stroke the dragon’s foreleg. “It won’t be that bad, Rev. We’ll have to find a physician to look at you first, anyway. And if it hurts too much, I’ll-”

“Kick them in the balls for me?” Revaramek grinned, rattling his spines.

Laughing, Mirelle patted his shoulder. “I was going to say hold your paw, but sure. Though I hardly thought you’d want to see me do that.”

“Why not?” Revaramek cocked his head, still smiling. “It’s funny when it happens to someone else. Why, I saw this gryphon get it in the stones once? You should have heard the squawk! Laughed my damn tail off.”

“I’m sure the gryphon was very appreciative.” Mirelle leaned back onto her palms again. “Whatever the case, I’m sure anyone willing to stitch up a wounded dragon knows well enough to be as gentle as possible.”

“They’d better be.” Revaramek snorted, hissed, and spat a little fire into the air. The heat washed over Mirelle, and she turned her head away. “Or someone’s going to have to stitch him. Regardless, before we can return to your village, we need to acquire some backup. I fear I can fight Alyaryl to a standstill at best, but no better. I will need help for our next encounter.”

“I’m proud you’re willing to admit it! I’d have thought your ego might get in the way.”

The dragon turned his head to give her a sidelong smirk, his central frill lifted. “My ego is willing to be deflated a bit when my life is on the line.”

“Glad to hear it.” She smiled, then tilted her head back to peer up at the sky. It was clear and blue, without a trace of clouds. “Don’t suppose you have any ideas, though.”

“I have an excellent idea.” The dragon’s smirk stretched into a fang-filled smile. “But you’re going to have to let me break the truce.”

Mirelle lowered her gaze to the dragon. “What do you mean?”

“The truce won’t let me leave my domain. Which we are at the very edges of right now.” He stretched a copper-dappled wing in the sun, using the black talon at its tip to point. “But I have friends in that direction. We could recruit them, if you were to say, authorize me to venture that far.”

“What kind of friends?” Mirelle sat up straighter.

“Several of them are the kind with feathers, beak, talons and an obsession with preening.”

“Gryphons?” Mirelle sucked in a breath.

“No, Mirelle, pigeons. Of course gryphons!”

She ignored his sarcasm. “That’d be perfect! They’re almost as big as you, right?”

“Well let’s not get carried away.” The dragon scoffed, thumping his tail. “They’re half my size, at best.”

“Why do I feel like that’s your ego talking?”

“Now their ego, that’s definitely as big as me. Bigger, even.” He folded his wing again, then stretched his forepaws, toes splayed and claws unsheathed. “But they’d be very helpful.”

“How many are there?”

“Two.” The dragon curled his tail alongside him, and picked at his webbed spikes. “A mated pair, so unless things have soured between them in the last five years or so, they’d be together.”

“Wonderful!” Oh, this was just what they needed to show that scaly bitch who was boss. “That’d be three against one!” Then her enthusiasm faded a little. “Wait. How do you know they’d help us?”

“They’re my friends.” Revaramek rubbed his tail webbing with a finger. “Oh, and you might have to throw in a few incentives for them, and another friend of mine.”

Mirelle scowled. Of course there was a catch, she thought. Why should she ever expect things to get easier? “What sort of incentives?”

“The kind only your council could authorize.” Revaramek still didn’t look up. He tugged at a thin spine, the scratched the gold-edged webbing. “Or you, in their stead.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Does it matter? Is there anything that could be requested that you wouldn’t grant in order to help save your people?”

Mirelle sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “That’s hardly a fair question, but short of them asking to be made our new lords and masters, I suppose not.”

“Oh, they wouldn’t want all that.” Revaramek flicked his tail back behind himself, grinning. “At least I don’t think they would. We’ll bridge that bog when we find it.”

Mirelle blinked. “What? That’s not how the saying-”

“Shall we go?” Revaramek pushed himself to his paws. “I’d like get there well before dark.”

“Dark?” Mirelle stiffened, her mouth going dry. “How…long a flight…”

“From here, I’d imagine half a day, at most. But I’m hardly in condition to fly at top speed. And at some point, I’ll need to hunt us some food. And you’ll need to stop and have your vomit break.”

Mirelle forced herself to her feet. “I don’t need a vomit break. Just…” She trailed off, struggling to force words across her tongue. “Gently…alright?”

“Of course. Let me try and work the stiffness out of my wings for a moment.”

Revaramek took a couple steps away from her to spread his wings in a patch of sunlight. He gazed back at them, easing them up and down a few times. In the sunlight, all the copper patches across his wings, and the stripes over his limbs glittered like polished metal. His bronze eyes glowed when they caught the light, as did the golden edges to all his frills and spiny tail webbing. One black horn spiraled up from his skull, as if proud to remain alongside its broken partner. Muscles rippled across his bruised back when he tested his wings. All the many cuts across his emerald scales seemed to serve as proof of his strength, his endurance.

Mirelle smiled. She dared not say so because of his ego, but in that moment he truly did look resplendent. When he’d finished testing his wings, she approached him. “Are you ready?”

“I am.” He turned his head to smile at her. “Do you wish to ride upon my back? I’ll fly smoothly, I promise.”

Mirelle bit her lip, wishing she still had those safety straps. They’d worked wonderfully for a single flight, though they hadn’t done a thing to prevent her airsickness. In fact the only time she’d flown without vomiting was after she nearly died. It seemed a strange time to start getting used to it, but it was the first time she’d actually trusted him.

Mirelle shook her head, and put a hand upon the dragon’s shoulder. “No, it’s alright. I trust you now.” She leaned her forehead against him. His scales were warm, his body strong. “I’d feel safer in your grasp.”

*****

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