The forest shook as Faelon collapsed.

"How? What-? Oh, fuck!" Aytin gasped. But he was already running towards the enormous red dragon.

As bad as Aytin's mutilations were, they paled in comparison to Faelon's wounds. Cracked and scorched scales surrounded an angry gash on the dragon's side as long as the dragonette was tall. It was heavily scabbed, but thin lines of blue ichor seeped out from cracks where it had reopened.

Smaller wounds covered Faelon's flanks underneath the layer of obscuring mud. They ranged from patches of missing scales to forearm length rents still stained blue with dried blood. One of his horns was missing the tip, and the outermost digit on his front left foreclaw was nothing but a stump.

But by far the worst damage was to the dragon's left wing.

It could hardly be called a wing anymore. White bone showed through where it jutted through the membrane and muscle. That bone was shattered in at least four places, one of which was nearly at the shoulder. And a good quarter of the wing was completely missing, the final wing-finger and its membrane torn completely off.

What was left of the once powerful limb hung limp and tattered.

Faelon raised his head slightly and finally spoke. "More?"

"More?" Aytin echoed, dumbly.

"More... of them?" His chest heaved like he had flown for hours at a dead sprint.

It still took long moments for Aytin to realize what he was talking about. "No. There were only the four of them. At least on the island."

"Good."

Faelon let his head slump forward once again.

For a moment, Aytin was terrified that this had been the final effort of a dying dragon. There were legends of some pushing through mortal wounds to finish one final task.

But, no. He could see the Faelon's massive chest continuing to move.

"Faelon?" He ventured, voice barely above a whisper.

The dragon didn't move, but he did open one enormous eye and fixed the dragonette with his gaze.

"Are you-" Aytin cut himself off before asking a stupid question. No red dragon who looked like that could ever be alright.

"How can I help?" he asked, instead. 'Do something. Gotta do something.'

"Rest." The eye drooped, but before it closed completely he added, "And... food."

With that, Faelon slumped. He didn't even waste the effort of curling his tail or intact wing around himself. He simply passed out where he lay.

Tough did not begin to describe the average dragon. They were mountains of armored muscle that could outfly any dragonette ever born and shrug off wounds that would be mortal to any smaller creature. And if something didn't kill them outright, they could usually heal from it given time and just a little care.

There was a reason that the best way to fight a rogue dragon was with another dragon. Numbers might overwhelm one, but when those weren't available only lancers like Aytin's father could hope to take one down.

The young dragonette brushed a hand across his kinked horn at the thought of his dad. Only a tiny handful of them ever survived the suicidal charges they could be called on to perform. Dragon hides were thick, and a lancer had to drive their weapon in at top speed to reach anything vital. That tended to also shatter the bones of whoever was holding the weapon, and was also why most famous living lancers - the Bloodhorn included - made their reputations through other endeavors.

But the reputation for draconic endurance made Faelon's appearance far more shocking. Not just the injuries from the battle and his crash landing. Ribs were showing on his flanks and patches of scales were missing without any wounds to account for them. He looked... sick; something that was almost unheard of.

Aytin spent long minutes watching the dragon's sleeping form, wondering what sort of hellish ordeal he had been through. It certainly put his own captivity in perspective.

'At least I might be able to fly again.' He looked from his own wounds to the shattered and torn remnants of Faelon's left wing and shuddered.

Before he could go too far down that path, Aytin forced himself to think about the problem at hand. Mainly, food.

The pot of rabbit stew cooking in the keep would make a decent mouthful for a dragon. The rest of the preserved meat and rations at the ruined keep might make another. No more. And it wasn't like the young dragonette had much fat on his bones, either.

First, he had to find out what he had to work with. Then he would try to figure out a plan.

There wasn't much left of the three brigands that Faelon had burned. They were charred beyond recognition along with anything they might have carried.

Aytin did manage to recover the ax that Zan had dropped. Its handle was singed, but it was otherwise intact. A quick swing into the trunk of a handy tree proved that with a satisfying thunk.

He had mixed feelings about Zan. Out of all of his captors, the former apothecary had at least avoided being cruel. Glimmers of kindness even showed through at times. Aytin would have happily broken the wings of the rest of them, and kicked them over the island's edge into the depths of hell below.

For what he had helped do to Reed and Bush and Voxin and all the rest, Zan deserved to die. Aytin knew that. But a piece of him regretted that fact.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Juniper's corpse was more useful than the rest, although the sight of her was a gruesome one. Not only was she torn in half, but just about every one of her bones was broken. Aytin was at a loss to figure out how she ended up this way until he noticed the blue stain at the tip of Faelon's tail. Then he winced at the thought of being hit by that tree-trunk sized cord of muscle and bone.

From her mangled corpse, Aytin managed to recover a quiver with five arrows, a well used steel knife, and some flint and tinder. There was also a pouch full of jerky - which he promptly ate - and another with a couple of silver worth of coins in it.

Money wasn't exactly useful in these circumstances. Still, he took it anyway. He grabbed her belt as well. It was a little big for him, but better than nothing which is what the brigands had left him.

Juniper's bow wasn't with her body. Aytin had to search back along the path Faelon made in the brush before he found it.

A test pull showed that, like the bow he had used hunting with Xantha weeks earlier, the draw weight on this one was manageable, even if it was stronger than he was used to.

Armed and determined, Aytin began to plan.

All sorts of animals called the island home. The brigands had brought back a deer and rabbits. They'd talked about signs of boar and even tirox. And Aytin himself had seen squirrels and all manner of wild birds.

It was too bad he didn't know the first thing about hunting any of them.

'Well, I know the first thing,' he thought to himself. 'Come in from above.'

That wasn't happening. Not without a miracle. And the chance that a god would take pity on him and perform one were about on par with the king himself flying to the rescue at the front of a wing of the royal guard.

Aytin made his way to the forest edge, anyway, holding out hope that a herd of deer or something had wandered out to graze.

No such luck. It might be criss-crossed with game trails, but right then the area around the keep was deserted. Only a few birds flitted about. Certainly no herds of deer or packs of wild boar.

He knew about traps. A little, at least. Mostly that huntresses sometimes put out snares for certain game.

Aytin thought he might be able to come up with something based on his expanded knowledge of knots, but it would be a case of trial and error. One that would take days or more to play out.

'I wonder how many rabbits it would take to feed Faelon?' he wondered, watching grass rustle where some small creature was passing. 'Twenty? Thirty? Fifty? Way more than I could catch in a day.'

Ducks or geese might be a better option. Flocks of them were beginning to migrate south for the upcoming winter. If they could make a net and find a pond, they might be able to catch a dozen at a time. Plucking feathers was one of Aytin's least favorite chores, but he would cheerfully clean a hundred of the bloody, stinking birds for just a few mouthfuls of that dark, juicy meat.

'Maybe Faelon can hit the water with a burst of fire. Boil them where they float.'

He was only half joking. But the problem with dragon fire was it didn't tend to leave much in the way of edible bits, and near misses would char the hides of animals, contaminating the meat with the stench of burnt hair. Aytin had heard somewhere that blues could use their lightning to stun prey, but most dragons preferred to swoop in with fang and claw.

His gaze was drawn back to the crows flying around the clearing. There wasn't any point going after them. They were all bone and gristle, and damn little at that.

But then he noticed that the birds were all concentrated in one patch of sky. Specifically, they seemed to be circling above something maybe ten minutes' walk away.

Intrigued and without any better idea, Aytin started heading in that direction, leaving the wounded dragon to rest for now.

The weather should have been dark and stormy after everything that had happened, but the gods had never gotten that message. Instead, it was one of those beautiful early fall days, without a cloud in sight and the sun high overhead warming the dragonette's back.

In the distance, to the north of the keep, one particular stand of trees dominated the horizon and towered over their fellows. The heaven oaks were massive, and these were on the small side. Young, probably planted there by the keep dwellers before they left.

Aytin tried to keep his mind on the present during his walk. He didn't want to think about what might come next. Not yet. But he didn't want to reflect on his captivity, either.

There was one safe thing that he could think about. The sudden realization hit him so hard that he froze in his tracks. 'I found my magic!'

After everything that had happened, he hadn't had time to consider that he should have been dead ten times over during his sprint down the side of the ridge. At the time, he had only known he could do it. Something had told him that much.

He tried to focus on the feeling that had gone through him during the escape. Surprisingly, it came easily. An impossible to describe certainty that whatever happened, he would not fall.

The trunk of a long dead tree lay on its side nearby. Determined to test his new magic, Aytin took a running start and then leapt onto the rotting log. A chunk gave way beneath his feet, but he instinctively shifted his weight to compensate.

A few long strides took him to the far side where he spun in place. Without bothering to look, the dragonette ran back to where he started and jumped, landing balanced on a single foot.

Despite it all, Aytin laughed. It was short and sharp and tinged with more than a little irony. Still, it was the only little sliver of real good that had come out of this whole mess.

It wasn't exactly the most useful power under the circumstances. Not like healing, or mage-craft, or strength, or improved senses might have been. But the first two required years of training to use, and the more he thought about it, the more Aytin realized his magic might be more useful than he thought.

Transferring his ax to his left hand and drawing Juniper's knife, he set the tip on one talon and let it stand free. This took some concentration, and he had to wobble his hand back and forth to keep it upright, but the blade stayed upright even as he walked.

Stooping, he set the tip on a rock, carefully balanced it, and then let go.

The knife fell to the dirt with a soft thump.

'Okay, so there are limits. Good to know.' He guessed that his power could only affect his own body. That was common as far as magic went. Most abilities were internal and the few that weren't worked best up close. It still opened up a few interesting possibilities.

Aytin was so busy with his contemplations that only the raucous cawing of the crows reminded him that he had arrived at his destination.

His eyes widened at what he found.

The trees here were different. Their broad, green leaves marked them out from the surrounding pines and scrub. But more importantly, they were filled with birds gorging themselves on the small, reddish fruits hanging from their branches.

Aytin dropped his ax and rushed to grab an apple from a branch hanging low from their weight, eliciting a squawking protest from the nearby crows. He ignored them, not even bothering to wipe the skin off before sinking his teeth into the fruit

The first bite was indescribable.

Part of him knew it was dry and sour, with thick skin and a musty aftertaste. But after being starved, abused, and worked to the bone for the past week, he didn't care. It was still sweet and starchy. And he could eat all he wanted.

Aytin had grabbed another even before he finished with the first. Not that it took him long. He was done in seconds, leaving only the stem and a sliver of core before moving on.

A single gorging dragonette couldn't hope to make a dent in the bounty. There were twenty or more apple trees, most of them fully mature.

He was on his eighth fruit - or was it tenth? - when he paused, and his eyes opened wide as he remembered why he had come this way to begin with.

Leaving the ax where it lay, Aytin turned and sprinted back for the forest and the sleeping red dragon he had left behind.