by Calista Skye
I walk on, taking much more care to be quiet. Yesterday, the biggest danger was walking right behind me on booted feet, but today death could come from any direction.
As it turns out, it comes from above.
I stand on the tip of dry land, looking forlornly out at the lake that blocks my passage. I’ll have to backtrack, nullifying all the progress I’ve made today and probably quite a lot of the distance we walked yesterday.
When I hear the flapping of the not-dactyl’s wings, it’s too late. The shape of the flying terror darkens the sun right before there’s a searing pain in my shoulders and I’m yanked up above the water.
I scream in horror and pain as the lake passes beneath me. I still have the not-fishing rod in my hand, so I start hitting the dactyl with it. But it doesn’t do much — the pain in my shoulders immobilizes my arms, and every movement is torture.
The world starts retreating from me, but I’m determined not to faint. This is the end, and it’s going to be a really bad one. But I’ll face it and go down fighting. This dactyl is going to have to fight for its dinner—
There’s a hard thud, and the dactyl loses control and tumbles to the water below. I scream again, because the talons ripe into new flesh.
The creature regains control right above the surface of the lake, but that only lasts a second before I hear an ear-rending crunch, the dactyl’s claws go completely limp, and I plummet through thin air for a moment before I splash down in water that’s much too cold.
I sink and then resurface, gasping for air and fighting to keep my head above water. My shoulders scream in protest, my arms and hands are numb, and I realize I’m sinking again with no way to keep myself afloat. I know how to swim, but not with shoulders that sting like they’re about to split apart.
In a flash, I remember that someone drowning doesn’t look like lots of screaming and splashing and desperate waving of arms, like you see on television. In reality, the person simply sinks without a sound or other sign of distress. Now I know what that feels like, because it’s happening to me.
Only now does panic grip me, but it doesn’t help.
A flash of light blinds me, and something big splashes into the water so close the waves wash over my head.
Then all I know is that my head is above water and I can breathe again.
“Fancy meeting you here,” a deep voice says in my ear.
I cough and splutter, trying to hang onto the large shape beside me. I know who it is, but I don’t know if that means I’m saved.
“I wonder, can you float?” Caronerax asks calmly, like we’re having a pleasant conversation. “I ask because I can barely keep myself up, and it might be helpful if you were to not cling to my arm… yes, like that. Less of that would be better. No, less clinging. Less. Oh, all right.”
A strong hand pries my hand open and I panic again, but only for a second. I can still breathe, and I’m not sinking. There’s a big arm behind my head, holding it up.
There’s also a fair amount of splashing, both mine and his.
“Can you,” I splutter, trying to regain control of my voice, “can you swim?”
“No, of course not,” the dragon seethes. “I can barely walk on land, used as I am to always flying, always soaring, always being above! Can you begin to imagine how degrading this is? Swim?! This is all completely ludicrous!”
I take some deep breaths, calming down and assessing the situation. As far as I can tell, we’re in the middle of a lake, with land on all sides. Caronerax is floating pretty high in the water, while I know I can’t stay up on my own.
Glancing up, I establish that the dactyl is gone. All I can see is a small puff of smoke, drifting away in the light from the rising sun.
“Did you burn the dactyl?” I manage.
“It’s the dragon way,” Caronerax states. “He tried to bite me. Did I mention that less clinging would be better? Ah, good.”
I readjust my grip on him. As far as I can tell, he can float well enough to keep both of us up. But if he can’t swim, then he needs a flash lesson.
“Try to lie back,” I instruct as respectfully as I can, my teeth starting to clatter. “Let the water hold you up.”
“If other dragons saw me now, they’d all die from laughter, and I would die from shame, sinking into this sewer on purpose,” he hisses.”It would be a mass extinction event!”
But he follows my instructions and lies back. At least half of him is above the surface, and I can’t escape the notion that he kind of looks like a raft. A gorgeous man-shaped raft with spikes and scales and a furious temper. If he were inflatable, he would be a bestseller at Walmart.
I cling to him as hard as necessary, but without encumbering him. “Good. Now try to use your arms to propel yourself— ow! That was my face. Try the water instead. Yes, like that. Now the other arm in the same way. The same way. The same way please, notice how you’re only spinning in place— yes, like that. Keep doing it, first one arm, then the other. No need to splash so much, try to move calmly.”
It takes me a while, but finally he’s doing a fair impersonation of the backstroke while I cling to the hemline of his pants, being dragged along. The water keeps cooling me down, and the only good thing about it is that it dulls the pain from my lacerated shoulders.
As Caronerax gets the hang of it, we’re making pretty good speed through the water. I try to steer by gently suggesting he use one or the other arms more than the other, so at least we’re going roughly south.
When we finally scrape up on a gravelly beach, he’s become quite an effective raft and engine. And I’m chilled so badly I start to worry about dying from hypothermia.
“Can you,” I manage through stiff lips as I crawl onto dry land, “still breathe fire?”
He casually gets up and strolls up on the beach. “No.”
“Can you change to your d-d-dragon form and d-d-do it?”
He pushes soaked hair out of his eyes. “Always so many questions.”
“Oh. It’s just, I’m really c-c-cold.” The shore is a lot like the other ones, a gravel beach with pine woods right behind it.
Caronerax casually turns on his heel and looks down on me. “You look terrible. But your lips have a more classy color now. Nice and blue.”
I get up on my knees, noting the dull pain in my shoulders. Looking at the wounds, they’re not quite as bad as I feared. The dactyl’s talons pierced me, but not that deep. Most of the lifting force came from the one claw that was under my arms. “I f-f-feel terrible.”
“And you need something now, I’m sure. Fire, is it?”
I try to wring out the bottom part of my dress, but the material is stiff and not all that wring-able. Also, my fingers are numb and powerless from cold. “Fire would b-b-be nice and m-m-might save my life. I would need it f-f-for the heat it gives off.”
“I see,” the dragon grunts.
When I look up again, he’s gone.
All right. I guess there’s not much more he can do. If he can’t breathe fire, then I’m left to myself.
With trembling fingers, I check that I still have the pouch around my neck. I can make fire myself, using Dolly’s matches. If they work when wet. As a last resort, I supposed I can do the stick-rubbing method.
I’ll have to gather firewood first, of course. And I have to do it right away before I give in to the strong urge to lie down on the gravel and take a breather. I think that would be the last thing I’d ever do.
I crawl off the beach and onto the dry grass. The sun is rising and giving off a decent amount of heat, but not nearly enough to thaw me.
Of course, the rays can’t really heat me up while I’m wearing this soaked dress, which feels like a shroud of ice. I slowly pull it over my head and dump it on the ground with a dull splat. Modesty has to take a backseat to staying alive.
I force myself to look around for firewood. It takes me far too long, but by the end I have a pitiful little pyramid of sticks with kindling underneath.
&nb
sp; Fumbling with the matches, I realize that even a tiny amount of moisture makes it impossible for them to make a spark. They need to be dried out completely.
I put them on a flat rock so the sun can do its thing.
The ground here is much softer than on the beach. Surely, if I lie down here for a moment, shaking uncontrollably, the sun will warm me up while also drying out the matches, and in a couple of minutes I can make a fire and save myself.
I curl up on the grass, trembling all over.
Yeah. That’s it.
- - -
“Ow!”
There’s a piercing pain in my shoulder, drawing me out of the dark, warm depths and into the harsh, icy sunlight again.
Two eyes are staring at me from close up. One blue and one bright yellow.
The pain goes away and becomes a dull throb again.
“Are you dead?”
“Yes,” I confirm, wanting to cry. I was so comfortable! Why did he have to wake me up?
Caronerax frowns. “Really?”
Something is moving right next to me, on both sides. Like I’m wrapped in coarse wool.
I don’t mind it, except...
“W-w-what’s that smell?” I manage, having serious trouble getting my lips and tongue to obey.
“Are you dead or not?”
“Not yet. But d-d-don’t give up hope.” I slowly focus my eyes. “Oh.”
That explains the smell and the wooly feeling. And the fact that I’m still alive.
“Such a weak species,” Caronerax frets. “Everything can kill you! Even… nothing!”
“These can’t k-k-kill me.” I shiver and close my eyes again. “Push them closer.”
Immediately, I’m lost in the middle of a whole flock of not-sheep, their furry and smelly bodies crowding me from all sides as the dragon heaps them onto me and pushes them close. They’re all unconscious or faking it, the way they usually do when they feel threatened. It’s some variety of playing dead that I’m sure is useful for the not-sheep, and which is now probably saving my life. Their living bodies are warm, and their hearts beat like crazy. It’s like being in the middle of a living fur coat, or a petting zoo gone wild.
“Where did you f-f-find these?” I manage, another bout of shivering coming on, but going the other way, heating up and not cooling down.
“Here and there,” Caronerax says, straightening up. “They are warm, yes?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He looks at me with no emotion on his face. “You took your garment off. Surely, that is unwise when feeling cold.”
The body heat from the not-sheep is seeping into my chilled limbs, and I know I’ll make it. “It depends. I think it was w-w-wise this time.”
He looks me up and down, his gaze invasive and not at all unpleasant. “I see.”
One after the other, the not-sheep come to life around me, moving and baah-ing in puzzlement, then promptly fainting again when they spot the striped dragon towering over us.
“How long was I... asleep?” I ask.
“Long enough.”
“Did you think I was dead?”
“Perhaps.”
“And you did what you could to save me?”
“Which I’m rapidly starting to regret. You’re less a living creature and more a question-asking machine, aren’t you?”
“Caronerax. I have to ask you one more thing. Did you actually kill Heidi?” Well, this is as good a time as any. I have serious trouble believing this guy is a murderer. He’s saved my life too many times.
He frowns. “What is Heidi?”
“The girl. In the village. You held her in your arms right before you saw me. During the earthquake. Did you k-k-kill her?”
“The word ‘kill’ implies some degree of death?”
“Um. Sure.”
“Then it’s totally inappropriate in this context. There was no death involved.”
A block of ice dissolves inside me. “She’s not dead?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I can only say that she was not dead when I dropped her. She may well be dead now, of course. How could I possibly know?”
I relax, enjoying the warmth of the not-sheep around me and the increasing heat from the sun on my naked skin. As well as the dragon’s gaze, a dragon who’s not nearly as evil as I thought.
In fact, is he evil at all? Rough and sometimes brutal, yes. Overbearing and crass, perhaps.
But not a murderer.
“Why did you lift her? Sorry, that was a follow-up question. Not a full question of its own.”
His dragon eyes flash, the yellow one more than the blue one. “I will answer if you promise that this was definitely the completely last question your little brain will pose to me today.”
“I promise.”
He sighs. “I was calmly strolling through the village, observing with some amusement my desperate compatriots attacking and battling with the slayers. Completely disorganized. They were all surprised to see other dragons there. The earthquake added to the chaos, and I tried to remain upright on the ground. Succeeding with ease, I should add. A small female — that’s your Heidi, I fancy — staggered onto me out of the darkness, then tried to hit me with a stick. She missed, as is only to be expected. Then she lost her balance and fell towards me, while at the same time a rock of some description came flying and hit her on the head. Thus I was left standing there, holding her up in some kind of ridiculous reflex that gave me no pleasure.”
I find myself grinning up at the sun. Heidi is not dead, after all!
Probably.
After only a few minutes, I feel recovered enough to stand up. I’m starting to sweat among all this living fur.
Caronerax unashamedly lifts his hair out of his face to run his eyes up and down my naked form. “You are the most female thing I’ve ever seen.”
I walk up to him and raise my hand to his face. “Come down here.”
He complies after a second of male hesitation, regally allowing me to place a kiss right on his mouth. Because when will I ever get the chance to kiss a dragon again?
His lips are soft and surprisingly warm. But I suppose that anything would feel warm right now. He smells good, too. Manly and super alien.
And not a killer of girls.
I let go of his neck. “Thank you for saving me. Again. I will ask fewer questions now. No more today, at least.”
“That is probably a good idea.”
I lift my old dress from the ground, a sad gray bundle, soggy and cold. “Meanwhile, do you know a good tailor?”
8
- Caronerax -
My hand shoots out and grabs her soft little chin. She gasps, a small feminine sound that makes her more irresistible.
I stare her down. “I think you’ll find that was a question. There must be a penalty.”
She stiffens and draws breath to say something.
I put my lips on hers, mostly to shut her up and prevent further interrogations. And partly for some other reason that I’m not sure about.
This kiss is much better than her clumsy but sincere attempt, of course. Because now I am in charge.
She closes her eyes and goes full into the physicality of the kiss, allowing me to guide her.
It’s proper and right.
And extremely arousing. Her scent is earthy and female, fresh and gentle.
Being this close to such a spectacular female is awakening real lust in me. If I wasn’t this weak, I would take her here and now, whether she cooperates or not. As it is, I choose to postpone it until I regain my full powers. Right now I imagine she would cooperate fine. Dragons can have that effect.
I disengage, and she draws a long, deep breath, her head swaying, eyes glassy. “Oh my…” Her voice is weak and hoarse.
“Let that be a lesson to you,” I state. “Next time, I will squeeze your breast at the same time.”
“Some penalty,” she finally manages.
Standing up, I turn my back to her and take in the lake we crawle
d out of while my pants creak with barely contained pressure.
I saw Jennifer taken by the flying creature, and before I knew it I was airborne, myself, taking up the hunt. That completely unplanned and unintended Change to dragon form burned the last of my energy reserves, and I fell from the sky before I was done spewing fire at the attacker. The short burst was enough to vaporize it, but extremely unsatisfying, with the usual thrill of victory cut pathetically short.
Still less satisfying is the fact that I’ve now saved the life of this female multiple times, at great risk and humiliation to myself, and I don’t even know why.
She’s walking around naked now, while her dress hangs on a branch, drying in the sun.
I glance over my shoulder at her.
The sight of her charms creates that great pressure in my pants. She is unusually attractive, with her roundness and her movements and her enticing shape.
Again I can barely resist my urge to take her.
One of the furry creatures in the heap wakes up, bounces around, spots me with its huge eyes, and immediately keels over, stiff from fear.
I sigh. “What is that? More green goo?”
Jennifer is squatting down, busy with the bundle of green plants she’s collected. “That’s right. For your wound. The old paste was washed away in the lake.”
I look down at my chest, confirming it. “Can you do that while walking? We’re wasting time.”
“I’ll soon be done,” she says absentmindedly.
I walk along the shore, so I don’t have to keep looking at her and have my crotch swell like this all the damn time.
I have no more reserves now, no more energy to use. I’m feeble and pitiful in this shape, even worse now that I spent the last of my force Changing. Without making the conscious decision to do it. It just happened. Whoever heard of such a thing?
“It’s ready,” the naked female calls.
I saunter back and let her smear the green stuff onto me again. It does work — the ache is considerably less than before.