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The company woke to find Syra still unconscious, even after the passing of freshly seared meat.

"Come on, it's time to go," Aidan said, prodding her shoulder.

Still, she did not move.

"Hey! Get up," Petra poked her face, making her head wobble. Her skin was warm, but she still did not rouse. "I don't like this," Petra furrowed her brow. "You better not be playing with us!" She smushed Syra's face between her palms and wiggled her head side to side, then stopped abruptly.

"What is it?" Cassius asked.

She pushed Syra's head to one side, revealing red marks. All along her jaw, neck, and chest were bright red scratch marks.

"They're on her arms, too," Cassius said, pushing up her sleeve.

"She did say she felt itchy."

"When?" asked Aidan, leaving the mero to examine the scabbing lines.

"Yesterday, while you were gone. She said she felt tight and itchy, but I thought it was just from getting sand in the wrong places."

"It couldn't be a human sickness, could it?" Cassius asked Aidan. "Some kind of rash? Perhaps she walked through a bad stretch of grass?"

A dragon's constitution was normally quite robust, but given their travels and Syra's prolonged exposure to people, it wasn't a farfetched theory.

"I don't think so," said Aidan, "rashes like that don't knock a person unconscious. But, I'm no medic."

"Well, we can't just leave her here."

Aidan nodded, "We'll have to carry her with us. Hopefully she'll come out of it on her own."

Aidan and Cassius picked her up and laid her atop the mero.

"And what if she doesn't?" Petra asked, the concern in her voice coming as a surprise to both boys.

Aidan let his hand linger on Syra's face a moment longer, biting his cheek at the thick scabs that weren't healing, "She has to. We'll just have to find someone who can help. Until then, we keep moving."

***

They walked and waded along the river until it widened and its banks leveled out into thick forest. Upon reaching a deep pool in its course, the rhythmic sound of clunking wood called their attention to a small cabin with a waterwheel gently spinning in the current.

"What's that?" asked Petra, head bobbing as she watched the wheel turn.

"A mill," said Aidan as he climbed up the bank, "Come on, there should be someone inside."

The small cabin was simple but sturdy. Some steps were worn while others newly replaced. As they waited for their knocks to be answered, Aidan noticed a raft propped against the side of the house. He went to dip away for a closer peek when the door was opened by man with full beard that smelled of firewood. The middle-aged gentleman merely poked his head out from the door, caring not for the sudden company.

"Yes, what is it?" he said, a tad gruff but not rude.

"Please, excuse the interruption, sir," Aidan said, "but we've been traveling quite a ways, and were hoping you could spare some cover for the night?"

"You really think I'm about to open my home to some strangers?" the man said with a laugh.

"Please, sir," Cassius piped up, "my sister is sick, and we've been traveling all day."

The man looked over the tired ensemble, their pant legs soaked and their boots squishing up mud.

"It would be greatly appreciated," Aidan tried again, "Even the mill house or a shed would be better than being left in the open." Aidan paused, glancing around the stretches of woodland all around them, "You're also the only person around who could help."

Sympathy at the sight of the unconscious girl made his stone face falter, but he eyed their weapons with a tightened jaw.

"You can hold our weapons until we leave," Cassius said, picking up on his unease, "we truly don't want any trouble."

"Alright," the man said with a hesitant sigh, "but I want something in return."

Cassius looked to Aidan who shook his head, "I'm afraid we don't have much money to give you. We lost most of our supplies in the river."

"Hmph," said the man, displeased but understanding, "then fetch me one of those." He pointed to the large rabbit carcass strung from Cassius' pack, "A fat one."

"Deal," Aidan said, turning to Cassius and Petra. "Cassius and I will go hunt, while you—"

"Oh, no!" Petra hissed, "Not this time. This time, you're staying with pock-face, while we hunt."

The man introduced himself as Lawrence, and stored Aidan and Syra's swords in a back room while the twins left for the forest.

"You can set her down over here," Lawrence said, folding over some blankets by the wood stove. "Any idea what did this to her?"

Aidan shook his head and laid Syra down, "We're hoping to find an apothecary when we reach Morai. But I'm worried the trip might be too hard on her."

"Hm," Lawrence nodded, "that is quite a ways. And all you have is that one mero?"

"Yes. We had more, but they were lost to the rapids farther upstream."

"That's unfortunate. I'd like to offer a horse, but as I only have one..."

"I understand," Aidan said, throwing his cloak over Syra, "it's gracious enough of you to let us stay."

"I was an adventurer too, once," Lawrence said, inviting Aidan for a seat on the couch, "and I couldn't just turn away a sick lass."

Aidan sat—making sure to keep his wet legs off the cushion—and Lawrence went to the kettle nestled atop the stove.

"Here," he said, handing Aidan a mug of tea. "It's a tad weak, I apologize. Don't get much opportunity to splurge on fancier things."

"No, it's fine, thank you." Aidan was grateful for the hot beverage and the chance to rest away from the wind and rain.

"That's a nice raft you have outside," Aidan said after finishing his drink. "How does it ride?"

"Wouldn't know," said Lawrence, looking down into his own stained cup.

"Is it not yours?"

"It used to belong to my son."

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

Aidan paused, "Used to?"

Lawrence's thumb picked at the cup's tarnish, "He moved to Altaira some years ago—wanted to be a guard. Don't know why. Erd knows that boy could barely chop wood. But he had it stuck in his head that he would make Soldier and bring me to live with him in the big capital." He chuckled, his throat straining a bit, "There was no way to know that his Knighting Day would be celebrated with dragonfire. It was weeks before I got the news that my son had burned to death protecting a city that couldn't protect him."

Aidan gripped tight at his mug. Images flooded his head. Images of burning buildings, people crushed under the debris, and dark shadows circling over the city in a sky lit by flames. He fought to push them away and his words caught behind his tongue.

"I'm sorry," Aidan choked out. He met Lawrence's watery gaze with his own, "I lost my brother that night, too." He stared at the floor then to the sleeping Syra, "And she lost her father. But life goes on, almost like it never happened. Like we could just turn around and they should still be there. It really is amazing how humans can still survive with them around."

"Could always be worse," Lawrence said, blinking the memories away. "I have family across the sea, and many towns live in constant watch for them. Some have been completely desolated."

"Exactly," Aidan gave a solemn nod, remembering their deployment west. "Even with their more advanced weaponry, compromise was nearly impossible."

"It's no real wonder why people leave to come here. Our dragons at least keep to themselves, most of the time."

Aidan chewed his cheek, "How can you be calm about it? They killed your son. How can you forgive them so easily?"

"Oh, it's far from easy. I live with his absence every day, just like you with your brother." He grimaced, "It ate me alive for a long, long time. Why else would someone choose to live by Shit Creek in the middle of nowhere? I couldn't stand to see everyone else move on while his bed remained empty. I hated everyone. Humans and dragons alike."

"What changed?"

"Well...I guess I realized my son wouldn't want me to be that way—bitter and on my face more than my feet."

Aidan had thought it odd that he had yet to see anything resembling ale or wine.

"He loved dragons, you know? Found them fascinating. That's why he chose Altaira in the first place: hoped to meet one, one day. Bit ironic, ain't it?"

"Just a bit."

"Anyways, that's why I can't keep on hating them. Sam would never let me live it down."

Aidan rested his head back against the sofa and stared at the knots in the wooden ceiling. He, too, had loved dragons once upon a time. And even back then, Syra was his favorite. With those large eyes despite her small face, and dainty scales that shone like freshly minted coins. How she approached him with intense curiosity instead of fear, and then flitted off again. He had forgotten that in his grief.

"Thank you, Lawrence," Aidan said, raising his mug to him, "I hope I can tell the same story someday."

***

That night, after they had eaten and Lawrence went off to bed, the company settled in by the fire to read and keep watch over Syra. Petra seethed from her spot on the sofa, so much so that Aidan feared it might alight.

"You alright?" he asked, taking the risk of her biting his head off again. But this time, her anger was not directed towards him.

"Can you believe those people?" she asked, staring off over the river beyond the window. "Larson just opened his mouth and those idiots in the square bought right into it."

"Of course, they did," said Aidan. "He just told them what they wanted to hear."

"What? That dragons are just savage beasts that should be blamed for everything?"

"That their suffering is real, and they're not alone. That there are actually people listening to them. Fighting for them." His tone took a somber dip. "I thought we had this handled. We made a specific department just for dealing with complaints like theirs. But, it looks like it's not working as well as we thought. Or were led to believe. Given that, I can see how they fell for it. A promise like theirs...it gives them hope. Something, I'm sure, they haven't felt in a long time."

"False hope," she spat with a snarl, "Hope in people who manipulate others to get their way, then murder them if they don't agree"

"Yes, but they don't know that. Not yet. Remember what Tilly said? They're all just tired, and want things to get better. You can't really blame them for wanting change."

"They think we're beasts, Aidan. Just dumb animals that are better off chained or mounted to a wall. But we at least listen to each other before going to war."

"Not all of them are like that."

"It's enough to build an army. Those people," she pointed out the window, "they know nothing about us, or Altaira—hell, they don't even want to! Yet they march on, crying for our heads because some graga—who's not even Montari—painted us as beasts to be slaughtered."

"Then why don't you do something about it? You're the leader, right? We all know what one dragon can do to a city. And I've seen a kingdom war-torn from just one clan."

"Because we're better than that!" she hissed before lowering her voice after Cassius shushed her from Syra's side.

"We could retaliate," she continued. "Without a treaty, we could burn you all easily and take your land. It ceratinly would help our food stores. And while I would love to watch those idiots burn to ash, we'd be just as bad as them. Worse, even, because we'd be proving them right. It would accomplish nothing and only invite more rage. And more arrows."

She sighed and fell back into the sofa, angry at people's misplaced anger and weary from being angry herself.

"So, we just sit there, watching you build your walls and machines, knowing that no amount of niceties or reason will convince you otherwise. And we will sit there, waiting, until your people decide to take one step too far. And then," she stared dead at Aidan, her eyes bright gold even in the shadow, "we will raze you. So you better make damn sure that when you're king, you're on the right side."

Aidan's chest tightened and his jaw clenched under her sharp gaze. A predatory gaze. The room echoed of the rain and firewood in his hesitation, and Petra fought back a smirk.

"This is why humans hate you, you know," said Aidan finally. He maintained eye contact but his body leaked fearscent.

"Why? Because we're scary monsters?"

"Because you present yourselves as such, yes," Aidan corrected. "You're large and very powerful creatures compared to us, even without your fire. And we've seen the damage you can do. We made our weapons out of necessity—we had to protect ourselves somehow. Or else we might as well be—"

"Prey?"

The glint in her eye was amused and rather condensending.

"How else do you expect us to feel, Petra?" He snapped and straightened himself, "You can't blame a cornered dog for baring its teeth, and yet you mock us for trying to level the field."

"Are you scared?" Petra asked flatly.

He faultered and steadied his shaking knee.

"Yes," he admitted, against his political training. "Yes, I'm fucking terrified."

This time, Petra watched him in genuine surprise.

"How can I not be?" he asked, waving an exasperated hand. "To know that my family and people could be snuffed out on a whim? I mean, isn't that why you're here—to protect your family from Marrak? Another dragon?"

To Aidan's surprise, she did not retort. She merely looked out the window to the squall outside.

"Look," said Aidan after some silence, "I am sorry for assuming the worst about you and Cassius. So...thank you for working with me this whole time, despite all the bullshit I said."

"It's not like we really had much choice."

"There's always a choice," he said with a slight grin.

"Don't you dare go quoting her," Petra half-glared. "One of her is enough, and I still haven't forgiven you for hurting her."

Aidan's grin warmed and Petra softened, if only around the edges.

"Understood," Aidan relaxed into the sofa. "If there's any hope of regaining a treaty, we're going to have to work together."

Petra laughed loud enough for Cassius to hiss at her, "Really? You expect a treaty after all your 'bullshit'?"

Aidan shrugged and cocked his head with a smirk, "A truce, then?"

"Don't get smug," Petra narrowed her eyes and vacated the sofa. "And change the name of that damn sword. It's disgusting."

***

The next morning came and Syra still hadn't risen. To everyone's dismay, more marks had appeared overnight. They covered her face and her belly, and this time they bled.

"We have to get to Morai soon," Cassius said, his stomach in knots.

"I know, but we can only walk so fast." Aidan held a hand to her forehead and was relieved to find her still warm, but not with fever.

"Come with me," Lawrence called for them to follow him outside.

"How 'bout a trade?" he asked Aidan when they stood next to the raft. "I won't be using it, and I could use that mero on my trips to town."

"Oh, no. I'm not putting one more toe in that river," Petra said, stepping away from the wooden dingy.

Cassius ignored her and leaned over to Aidan, "It would certainly be faster than trekking through brush. I say we take it."

Aidan hesitated, "But it was Sam's."

Lawrence gave a bittersweet smile before grabbing him hard on the shoulder, "He wouldn't have thought twice about it."

Aidan gripped his hand tight, "Then we'll thank him for it."

"You're joking, right?" Petra asked, eyes darting between them, "We're not really going back on those rapids?"

"Grab your stuff, missy!" Lawrence boomed with a grin, "Time to set sail."

"I am going to die," Petra hushed to herself and turned on a heel, leaving the men to laugh as she sulked back into the house.

***

As the river widened, the rapids slowed into gentle shoals and they coasted at a fair knot. Still, Petra insisted on sitting in the dead center far away from the greedy waves.

"You're not going to be afraid of water forever, are you?" Cassius teased. "How are you supposed to help me fish when we get back home?"

"Swimming in a lake is different," she spat. "It doesn't move."

Cassius sighed, "Can't swim. Can't fly—at least, not that well. You really have no room to tease Syra, you know."

"Shut it, Cas. I don't need to swim or fly to take on Marrak."

"Those rocks beg to differ. If Syra hadn't pulled you out, your part in this journey would've been over."

"I still say she's a liabilty. Even after all these years, she still can't b—"

"Hush!" Aidan held up a hand for quiet.

Rustling came from the trees and grew louder as they drifted onwards.

"See anything?" asked Aidan, scanning the foliage.

"Nothing," said Cassius. "Can't smell anything, either."

"We must be upwind."

Aidan crouched down, ready to spring at the first sight of danger. Then his eyes caught it. A flash of color in the sunlight.

"There!" he whispered, pointing into thick branches that stretched over the river.

But by that time, they were the ones seen first.