I pushed open the doors of the town hall. Opening the door, the heat of the night washed over me. I let out a sigh. Turning to leave, a weight lifted from my back. Though Cynfe’s invective still burned on my fangs, the anxieties of dealing with politics and agendas sat behind me. For now.

My tiredness rears its ugly head. My eyes blurred, and my legs ached, protesting the day’s events. I let out a long-building sigh, and began my trek home.

When I exited the hall a bright-white figure stood there, waiting on me. I waved my wing, she gave a lazy flick of her tail. Blood rushed to my frills. Hinte didn’t mean anything by it, but that gesture was so much more inappropriate, back in the sky. I tossed my head, clearing it.

By now, Hinte had turned and started off. Her pace was slow, inviting me to fall in step, and I did. We walked along awhile. At one point, she spread her wings as if to fly, but she closed them a heartbeat later.

“I’m sorry,” I said without thinking. “Really sorry.” I added — this wasn’t just unfortunate, it was also my fault. Hinte only flicked her wing, saying nothing. We walked under the amber streetlamps as a zephyr gusted at our sides and shadows twisted in the light of the moons.

Hinte bristled her wings beside me. The bandages caught the lamplight, looking amber. My feet clenched, scraping the road. Hinte couldn’t fly anymore because of those apes. They had hacked at her foreleg, betrayed us when we offered them escape for the cryst it stole.

“Why did this all have to be so complicated?”

Hinte tossed her head. “The faer will handle it.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean, why couldn’t we have found some dumb monster in the Berwem instead of those apes?” My brilles clouded. “I just can’t get those last moments out of my mind.”

Hinte tilted her head.

“I mean, like the way the last one looked so surprised, or how that one only wanted to bury his friend. It’s…”

“An insult. I cannot fly. I lost an entire day’s work in the Berwem. This was not something we decided. They brought this on themselves.”

I cowed down a little. “Yeah, I know. They don’t — I’m not saying they not monsters. It’s just kinda of sad, at least? It drags.”

“Do you expect me to feel something? What I feel is the three different sets of injuries, and the paingrounders keeping me from falling over right now. And my bags, empty and empty.”

“Right.” I hugged my wings to my body. “I lost my crabs, too.”

Hinte glanced at me, eyes clouded. “You already bled them.”

“But I was going to cook them or something. Now I can’t.”

Hinte’s gaze lingered on my for a moment, before she shook her head and looked away, tail lashing.

“We–we gave them what they deserved, I guess.”

Hinte still hadn’t looked back at me. “But you still wish we hadn’t?”

“I just… don’t feel better because of it?”

I’d rather just toil in the shop and stare up at the stars. Chwithach bothered me with enough frilly philosophy puzzles. I didn’t need any outside of the scrolls, ones where I might chose the wrong answer and do something wrong.

We had continued walking, and Hinte had stared at the ground awhile before she muttered, “You remind me of someone.”

My frills perked up. “Who?”

Hinte looked away. “It’s not important.” Hinte’s gaze found Ceiwad hanging in the west.

I looked away too. My wings flexed. Flying out into the cliffs, even sifting to a tiny, tiny extent, had felt fun⁠ ⁠—⁠ something new, something that I hadn’t done before. Hinte had been abrasive at first, but we grew a bit closer in the end. She’d smiled, shared stories.

My toes move to my left foot, feeling a ring of indented scutes on my left foreleg’s toe, where I had once worn a ring that had grown too tight. “You remind me of someone, too.”

My gaze lifted again, brilles clearing to stare at the stars. Hinte had brought her gaze back to me, but what she asked was, “Do you want revenge on whoever made you leave the sky?” When I looked back, I saw that she was looking at my headband.

“I — no. I made me leave, it was my decision.”

I reached to the top of head, feeling the cloth headband there. Underneath, hidden from sight⁠ ⁠—⁠ except Hinte had seen it once⁠ ⁠—⁠ House Perdition’s judicators had burned, seared, a mark of exile into my scales, so deep that no amount of molting would heal it. It still hurt, but it faded and I could bear the pain. If I pressed, I could feel the welts spelling matua⁠ ⁠—⁠ meaning grounded in Käärmkieli. My branded forehead ensured I could never be admitted into any skycity.

But would the brand of ‘Specter’ as my surname have been any easier to bear if I had stayed?

“Why would you leave your home?”

“It⁠ ⁠—⁠ I guess it didn’t feel like home?”

She hummed, and the conversation choked there.

I looked back in front of us. “So, do you want, uh, revenge on whoever made you leave the forest?”

“Ja,” she didn’t hesitate.

“Well, may the stars lead you.” It was my turn to look away, and I followed Hinte in looking at the pale green moon. When I stumbled, I dropped my gaze, and saw that I’d tripped over a bit of Hinte’s cloak⁠ ⁠—⁠ the one she’d lent me. I took it off and passed it back to her, and as I did I stared at her wings and her hindlegs.

“Are you okay, after everything that happened?”

“Why?”

“Because, well, because you’re one of my only friends down here. I mean, I know we’re probably not real friends or anything, I guess I just hate seeing someone I know and like hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“Aside from not being able to fly?”

“I said I’m fine, stone frills. My wings will heal.” She paused. “You were hurt too.”

“Yeah, but nowhere near as badly as you. Mostly just in my legs, walking’s going to drag, but walking already drags.”

We came to the canal stretching across town and walked along it some ways. I watched the waters glimmer in the moonlight. I soaked in the sight, it was one I would miss when the gray season came.

When we reached a bridge, Hinte turned to me. “I do not regret bringing you with me, Kinri.”

I jerked my gaze from the waters to her.

“I will head into the cliffs next crestday to look for plants. Will you come?”

Would I? I had never expected Hinte to be doing something so dangerous in her free time. If I had known everything that would happen today, there was no way I would have agreed to come with her.

I had cowered behind a boulder when something moved in the vog. When I had dared to fly into the center of the lake, in spite of the danger, I nearly died. And while it was not the Berwem, Hinte said the cliffs would not be more forgiving, that they were just another set of dangers.

But. What about our teamwork against the humans? Or saving Hinte from the rockwraiths when I could have just ran away? And, underneath it all, this had not been so bad. It was exciting, a break from the endless grind of my daily life. Down on the surface, without my brother Ashaine, there was no one to break me out of my routine. I met Hinte’s gaze. Maybe I needed this, someone to make my life interesting.

“Y–yes, of course.”

Hinte lowered her head. She turned, ambling toward the bridges. “Will you keep what happened today a secret?”

“Um, what? Didn’t we just get done unsecreting everything that happened today?”

Hinte worked her jaw, mouthing ‘unsecreting.’ It had made sense. To me. “We didn’t tell the faer everything. Anything I’ve told you that I haven’t told them, can you keep it secret?”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me, Kinri-gyfar?”

I don’t trust dragons. Do you?

I looked to the waters. “I⁠ ⁠—⁠ yes. You saved my life. Multiple times. How could I not trust you?”

Hinte didn’t smile, but her frills extended, and her tail fell, hanging by her legs. She glanced at the waters of the river, and asked me, “Why did the fired accountant cross the river?”

“To get to the other bank.” I gave a fangy smile. “What? Maybe it doesn’t translate well.”

Hinte rolled her head, and took a step toward the bridge; but she turned and looked at me one last time.

“Will I see you in the morning?” she askeed.

“At–at your house?”

“Yes.”

“Yes!”

“I will see you then. Silent winds, my friend.” Her paces picked up, and she disappeared over the bridge, leaving me with the lingering scent of grapes.

My friend? I squeaked. A small, warm wave of heat rushed over my body. Despite the looming horror of war that I might have the blame for, I had my own victory to celebrate. After everything that had happened in the Berwem, me and Hinte had become friends! At long last.

Hinte’s frills twitched at my squeak, but with her back turned she couldn’t see the frilly grin on my face. For the best, really. I waved her off, waving my wing hard and fast enough to vex my sore, injured leg.

I turned and low-walked away, struggling to find a familiar street. I must have looped around a few times, but I came to a main road I could follow back home. Shuffling through the streets of Gwymr/Frina, I found walking alone again a little sad. Did Hinte make it home okay? I didn’t have a reason to think she wouldn’t. But I didn’t know anything with kind of day we just had.

And she would have to walk all the way back. I clenched my claws. I twitched my frills, but I could still hear Hinte’s shouts and screams. Those brutish apes had threatened, injured my friend. I growled in the lonely night, startling someone in the shadows that I had not seen. Cringing, I walked on with my head lowered.

I reached the familiar corners near the inn I stayed at, the Moyo-Makao. My motions felt automatic as I leapt in the air, then flew a lethargic flight to the elevated porch of the inn. I pulled at the handle. In my tiredness, I missed the handle and instead grabbed the bamboo floor of the porch. I grabbed hold on the second try, pulling the bottom of the door.

Stepping into the lamp-lit lobby, I gave an exhausted wave to the bartender, then I trudged up the steps. If that ground floor held anyone or anything of note as I walked in, I passed it by, too worn out to attend to my surroundings. I reached my door. Room 35. I stepped in, not bothering to lose my clothes or clean my forelegs as I collapsed on the my bed, sifting off into a sleepy mess, so glad this day had ended at last.

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Somewhere above, as if guiding, the endless stars still shone.

* * *