“Now, we should get going,” Guinevere reminded them. She glanced at the injured wyvern on top of Gadalik. “Gretel, I have seeds that could help ease your pain in my hollow. Please hold out until we get there.”

The young wind dragon blinked, confused by that offer at first, until she became aware once again of the soreness in her back when she'd tried to reposition herself. Oh… Guess I'm so used to pain, I forgot I was hurt.

As her friend followed the adults back toward the fairy dragoness's territory, Gretel struggled to stay awake. It was easy enough to keep herself alert during the commotion of their earlier chatter, but the journey was rather peaceful. Guinevere led the way with her golden antennae raised to sense for danger, and Glacia periodically looked the juveniles over, as if making sure they were okay. With Guinevere's ability to sense intruders, and how overprotective Glacia is, I don't think I need to keep watch anymore. I'm kind of glad a predator like her is on our side. With those final thoughts, she let herself drift off into sleep.

“...No, she never told me anything other than she was used to being attacked,” Gadalik's voice faded in, along with Gretel’s consciousness. “She didn't have a concussion before she disappeared, right? So it had to be during that time away–when she also got clawed in the back.”

The striped wyvern opened her eyes to find herself back in Guinevere's tree hollow. She sat up, then winced in pain from her back and nearly collapsed again from that lightheadedness. She groaned–but more from annoyance than anything.

“Gretel! Are you okay?” her friend asked worriedly.

“Pfft, I'm not dying,” Gretel assured him. “But, uh… if Guinevere has some magical cure-all poultice, I wouldn't turn it down,” she added with a laugh.

“I'm afraid such a thing does not exist,” the fairy dragoness replied, the slightest bit amused. “A light dragon could magically heal you with their halos, but sadly I am no such type.”

“Do you still have those seeds…?” she asked hesitantly, lowering her voice in hopes that Gadalik wouldn't hear her.

The green hybrid’s striped blue eyes softened sympathetically in response to overhearing his friend, she sighed. I don't want your pity…! I just want to get better so I can take flight again. I can't stand being grounded and cooped up like this.

Guinevere retrieved a large leaf with a small pile of poppy seeds on top and placed it down in front of her. “They might make you drowsy, but I had prepared this portion based on your size and weight. Eat as much as you want.”

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“Ugh… I'm tired enough as it is. I'd rather be in pain than asleep,” Gretel muttered.

“You are tired because you have a concussion,” she said as a matter of fact. “I'm also assuming based on your energy that you haven't slept properly in two days.”

Oh. Her hot pink eyes looked away and she didn't argue.

“Gretel, what exactly happened to you while you were gone?” Gadalik prompted gently.

His friend shrugged. “I was just traveling.”

He shook his head. “You don't get slashed and concussed just from traveling…”

“You do if you travel to a hostile dragon,” she laughed half-heartedly.

Gadalik frowned. “This isn't funny… You could have been killed.”

“But I wasn't,” she pointed out with a proud grin.

“But you could have been…!”

Her smile fell. “But I wasn't…”

“That’s enough of that,” Guinevere intervened.

Gadalik bowed his head apologetically and Gretel sighed.

“Given the shape and size of the claw marks on your back–from what I can gather of them from my senses–I believe the hostile dragon you mentioned was a juvenile fire type,” the adult concluded. “Is that correct?”

Gretel froze, memories rushing back too swiftly for her to process. She was overcome by familiar feelings of hope, disappointment, terror, and pain coursing through her in that order.

“Gretel…? Hey–it’s okay…! Breathe,” Gadalik told her, and the wyvern realized she was holding her breath.

She released it and shook her head fiercely–then winced as it ached from the motion. “Sorry... Yeah. It was a fire dragon.” Her hot pink eyes stared absently at the moss-covered floor of the tree hollow.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Guinevere asked gently. The green dragon watched his friend, listening intently for her answer.

Gretel scowled. “What do you think happened? You both know about the gashes on my back.”

“Yes, but–”

“That doesn't explain my concussion, I know,” she interrupted, tail flicking with agitation. “She blew gas in my face, then clawed my back when I fled. I don't remember much after that. Guess I passed out from the gas mid-flight and hit my head when I crash-landed. Alright? Are you happy now?”

“That isn't what I was going to ask,” Guinevere replied calmly.

The wyvern eyed her skeptically. “...What?”

“Gadalik told me you have a history of approaching strangers and getting attacked by them. He even said that's what happened with Sebastion last night. I was going to ask what you're hoping to gain from these encounters.”

Gretel tensed, starting to feel trapped. With every quickening heartbeat she remained still, her anxiety intensified. Images of a purple revealer dragon flashed before her eyes, and she was suddenly a vulnerable hatchling, crying out to him in pleas he disregarded. “I don't want new friends!” she finally snapped at him aloud. “And I don't want you, either!”

“What…?” Gadalik asked, the pain and fear in his voice palpable.

It snapped her out of it, and the juvenile wind dragoness glanced around, trying to catch her breath as she realized where she was again. “Huh? Gadalik?”

“I–I’m sorry… I didn't mean to upset you,” he said, his meek voice wavering. “I won't ask you about your past anymore; just, please, give me a chance before you decide you don't want to be friends anymore…”

“What are you talking about?” Gretel huffed, lashing her tail with frustration.

Gadalik's panic morphed to confusion. “But… You just said you didn't want me…?”

“What?! No I didn't! I was talking to–” She froze. Efron…