Snow paced around the inside of Avara’s house. She’d been at it for so long that Alika was sure that she’d made dents in the wooden floor, though Alika couldn’t blame her. Had there been space to do so, Alika would have paced with her, but the house wasn’t large enough for two quickly-growing dragons.

Tarka was busy staring into the fireplace, poking at the wood every so often, while Mira was rocking back and forth in a wooden chair, twiddling her fingers to keep herself occupied. Alika was busy staring at the door to Avara’s bedchamber, her ears flicking as she tried to listen to the soft voices behind it, hoping to get a clue of what was going on. A faint turquoise light glowed from behind the doorway, and all Alika could hear were the faint tones of Gust’s dragonsong.

“He was fine just a moment before!” Snow snarled, her voice as loud as a dragon’s.

Alika grumbled, her concentration interrupted. Had there been anything important said behind the door, she would have missed it.

“I hate humans!” Snow whipped around, flicking her tails as she turned began pacing in the opposite direction. “They’re completely fine and happy and everything, and then one year, they just randomly fall over dead! It’s stupid! It’s all so stupid!”

“Show him some sympathy,” Alika muttered. “It’s not his fault.”

“That’s the worst part!” Snow huffed. “I can’t even blame Yarik for it!”

Alika didn’t know how to respond to that, while Snow kept pacing.

Snow jumped up to a table and pulled a cooked fish down from it with her jaws. Instead of going for a meal, she mashed her forepaws down into it, furiously ripping the fish apart until there was no sign of what it had formerly been.

“Why didn’t he just tell one of us that he was about to keel over!” Snow snapped, using a hindpaw to throw a piece of fish on the wall. “It would have been nice to have warned me so I could’ve not gotten attached to him!”

Alika lowered her ears in a guilty expression, wincing. He had warned someone.

Snow picked up on this immediately, turning to Alika with fangs bared. “Do you have something to say, Alika?”

“Well, he sort of did mention it to me,” Alika murmured, placing a paw in front of her snout to protect it from Snow’s wrath.

“He what?” Snow hissed. Snow kicked fish at Alika’s face, missing her paw and hitting her square in the eye. “You knew?”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Tarka asked, his ears drooping as he turned away from the fire.

“He asked me not to,” Alika explained.

“Maybe Gust could’ve healed him.” Tarka sulked, burying his snout beneath his forepaws.

“Gust can’t heal old age,” Alika sighed.

Snow walked up to Alika’s forepaws, each large enough they could easily pick up the fox. With her fangs bared, Snow peered into Alika’s eyes, fish remains still dripping down one.

“When you die, I expect to be warned decades in advance,” Snow growled. “Or I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

“How does that—” Alika stammered, inching away from Snow. “How am I supposed to know that?”

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“Figure it out, mortal!” Snow whipped her tails against Alika’s snout, barely leaving a mark before stomping off.

Alika shut her eyes, the vision of Snow’s death playing before her again. It was cruelly ironic.

“My mother was shocked that Yarik made it back at all,” Mira spoke up. “When he’d gone out to sea the last time, everyone had been sure that he and my grandmother weren’t coming back. There was a goodbye party and everything — the greatest celebration that Coldwater Bay has ever seen.” She paused. “Or so she says. I don’t remember it.”

“How old was he?” Alika asked. She glanced at the door. “Is he?”

Mira began counting on her fingers. It took her a few moments to figure out the answer.

“At least a hundred and four,” she finally replied.

“Oh, okay,” Alika said.

“What?” Snow squealed, scattering another pawful of fish.

“I know, right?” Mira replied. “It’s pretty amazing.”

Alika cocked her head. “I don’t get it. I was told that humans normally lived to eighty. That’s not much longer, is it?”

“Sure, but they’re usually not fighting dragons at that age,” Snow muttered. She glared at Mira. “How did he do it? What’s his secret, and how do I get some of it?”

“Aren’t you immortal?” Tarka asked.

Snow turned her gaze back to Alika, a wistful look in her golden eyes. “It’s not for me.”

The door to the bedroom creaked open. Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on the doorway as Avara stepped out.

“You can ask Yarik yourself when he wakes,” Avara said.

The four breathed a collective sigh of relief. Alika peered into the doorway — Yarik was asleep on a raised bed of furs. Gust was at his side, humming a glittering tune, his forepaws pressed into Yarik’s chest.

“He’s okay!” Tarka cheered and ran up to Avara, wagging his tail and trying to rush past her outstretched arms. Snow and Mira joined, trying to see Yarik inside of the room.

“Stand back!” Avara scolded him, batting at Tarka. “Give the healer some space to do his magic!”

Gust opened an eye, catching Alika’s gaze. “Yarik is alive, and with a bit more magic, he’ll be well,” he explained. “He had a magical excess in his lungs that seemed to be parasitically draining his aura. Fortunately, we have cases like this on Kuroth all the time from Cursed Lands travelers, and I’m able to remove it via auric overexposure. Er, that is, directing magical energy into the excess to kill it.”

“That means he can come north with us!” Tarka exclaimed, the tip of his tail rapidly swishing.

“Absolutely not!” Avara huffed.

“I, um, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Gust continued. “The excess has been mostly removed, and I should be able to finish it off, but there’s damage to his lungs that I’m not capable of fixing alone. He’ll be in recovery for quite some time. He needs lots of rest, and it’s unlikely he’ll ever return to his previous level of activity.”

“But—” Tarka started.

“I won’t hear it!” Avara interrupted. “The cold isn’t doing my father any good. I can’t say if he’d make it through the winter here, much less out adventuring further north! Besides, he wouldn’t want to be separated from that cursed ship. No, no, as soon as he’s safe to move I’ll be taking him east to Lina.”

“Bah!”

Gust squealed, and Avara leaped, twirling around to see that Yarik’s eyes were wide open.

“I can at least take them to the edge of Summerlands!” Yarik argued, his voice hoarse but firm.

Avara shook her head. “I’ll have none of it! You’re going to Lina, and that’s the last of it. Get back to sleep!”

“I feel fine!” Yarik protested, lifting up his head. “Nothing’s the matter!”

Suddenly, Yarik let out a cough so loud that Alika was afraid he might have coughed out his lungs with it. Blood splattered on the bed’s furs.

“Now see what you’ve done?” Avara snapped. “You’ve stained my good furs!”

Gust let out a long exhale, gently pushing Yarik’s head back down with a claw. Yarik’s eyes closed once more.

“As much as I hate to see him go, as a healer, I have to agree with Avara,” Gust concurred. “It’s what’s best for him.”

“No!” Tarka whimpered, staring at Gust, his eyes as wide as the Twins, tears welling up in them. “You too?”

“Sorry,” Gust whimpered, ducking his head down to avert Tarka’s betrayed gaze.

“The warmth will do my father well,” Avara continued, nodding. “I could do with some of it myself. Mira, go ahead and make the arrangements — find a few young sailors-to-be interested in being a part of the final voyage of the Windrider.”