It wasn't particularly cold in the mid-morning sun. Summer wasn't long passed and this island was still in the lower latitudes.

Nonetheless, Aytin had to fight against cold-induced lethargy as he rode atop Faelon. He was having to focus on his magic just to keep from tumbling off at every step.

"Can you... try not to shake so much?" he begged plaintively. "And maybe slow down until I'm dry?"

Faelon, of course, wasn't doing any better. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"If I don't keep moving, I'm going to pass out where I stand," he rumbled through gritted teeth. "That pond was cold!"

"I told you to heat it up!"

"And I told you I can only breathe so much fire at once!"

Neither of them had been particularly happy with the bathing arrangements. The spring fed pond proved to be even colder than Aytin had feared. It didn't help that a front had come through overnight, leaving the skies crystal clear and the air cool enough that Faelon's breath briefly came out in billowing clouds before dawn warmed things up.

Coming from a southern keep where the weather stayed relatively warm during the winter, it was quite the unpleasant experience for Aytin. One made worse by his promise to help scrub the mud off of Faelon's hide.

Thankfully, the dragon didn't expect perfection. He just dunked himself in the water and then directed his much smaller companion towards the worst of the grime.

At Faelon's suggestion, Aytin made a makeshift brush out of a frayed branch. It worked well enough to scrape the muck out from between scales, but the process left him damp and filthy.

Aytin shifted his wings slightly as the wind caught them and sent a jolt through their tears. The wounds burned, especially after being splashed with muddy water.

He hoped they weren't beginning to fester once again, but Zan's comments about infection from... 'Was it really only yesterday?' But the apothecary had said something about this particular wound needing lots of care.

What had he said was in the potion? Palewort? He remembered some grass and powders, but there were a lot of jars of a lot of different things in the collection. And the comment about some things being poisons in the wrong dose wasn't exactly comforting.

I need to read his journal. Maybe he has instructions in there.

Meanwhile, he pulled his wings in tighter and tried once again to get them under the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. But it was just a little too short and once again the wings slipped out.

There were more blankets on Faelon's back, and Aytin considered grabbing another, but he decided against it. He wasn't quite ready to pit his balancing magic against a shivering dragon.

Besides, they were nearly to the orchard.

The apple trees were clearly visible from dragonback, and he was already looking forward to breakfast. There was preserved food back at the keep, but he'd decided not to dip into that. Jerky, salted meat, and hardtack would keep. Apples might not.

An odd noise caught his attention. It was almost like the sound of two rusty metal bars rubbing together in the distance. And there was something like the gurgle of ale pouring out of a jug, only deeper.

He was still trying to figure out exactly what it was he was hearing when Faelon topped over a small rise and they could finally see the bases of the apple trees over the tall grass.

It took a few seconds to register exactly what was among the apple trees. At first they looked to Aytin's cold-fogged mind like small brown and black bushes. But they moved. And as soon as they saw the red dragon, they moved very fast.

Belatedly, Aytin reached for his bow, but any plan went out the window as Faelon charged. Bags, blankets, tunics, and every spare scrap of cloth the brigands had owned went flying. Even with his magic, Aytin had to grab onto scales and hold on for dear life to avoid getting thrown off.

A wordless snarl ripped from between Faelon's lips. The sound would have frozen Aytin in fear if he wasn't already struggling to keep his hold. Riding a galloping dragon bareback was not an experience many dragonettes could claim, and it wasn't an honor he had any intention of repeating.

But it turned out to be all for nothing. By the time they reached the orchard, the pack of animals had already disappeared into the forest. Far faster than a land-bound dragon with his wing dragging behind him, the fading echoes of their squeals seemed to mock the far larger predator.

Faelon looked like he might burn down the trees in a fit of rage. His chest expanded and his head pulled back. Aytin's eyes went wide at the thought of their only source of food going up in smoke, but before he could say anything the dragon relaxed, although his eyes remained glued to where his prey had gone.

"Damn," Faelon muttered. Then he looked back to see the trail of scattered supplies, and the dragonette only now relaxing his death grip on the dragon's scales. "Damn," he repeated, with infinitely more weariness. His legs seemed to tremble from the strain of the sprint, nowhere near recovered from his week long trek across the island.

"It's... alright," Aytin panted, trying to get his panicked breathing under control. "I'll pick it up. Just... could you let me down?"

Wordlessly, Faelon extended his right wing and Aytin wobbled down it on unsteady legs.

At least he wasn't cold anymore.

"What were those things?" Aytin asked as he picked up the first fallen blanket.

"Wild boar," the dragon answered.

"Huh." Now that he thought about it, they did look similar to the ones he remembered huntresses bringing home. Just furrier.

He tried not to think about roast pork. He tried very hard not to think about roast pork.

It didn't work.

Faelon hadn't run far, and it was easy enough to gather all the fallen equipment. The last thing was Aytin's bow, which had gone flying off along with everything else. Its wooden construction blended into the browning grass.

Picking it up, he looked back towards the orchard and gauged the distance. 'Long for an arrow. And they were already starting to run. If everything had gone right, Aytin might have gotten a lucky hit. He doubted it, though. At half the distance, he felt confident in a hit, and maybe even two. Judging by the size of those pigs, it probably would have been enough to feed the pair of them for a couple of days.

It wasn't worth thinking about what might have been. Not when they never really had a chance to begin with.

The soft loam in the orchard had been torn up by the pigs, but they couldn't climb the trees. That was a relief because there wasn't even a single gnawed core remaining on the ground.

"I think this is the right idea," Aytin remarked after spreading a blanket on Faelon's back, and then reaching for a cluster of apples. "If we leave these apples out much longer, animals will get them."

He only got a grunt in reply.

Their plan was to strip the orchard bare, and move the apples into the keep where they could protect them from the wildlife. Aytin had gathered anything that could be used to hold the fruits. Since they didn't have baskets or barrels, they would make due mostly with makeshift cloth sacks.

Aytin had only ever had fresh apples once before. A trader sold a cask of them to the keep for an exorbitant price. Every one of the fruits had been individually packed in dry straw to keep them from bruising.

He tossed an apple into the growing pile. Their supply wouldn't last long enough for bruising to be a problem. Speed was much more important.

The next apple had holes in it.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Worms could be a problem. He'd seen them take over entire barrels of produce in days. It wasn't worth risking their lives for a few extra bites of food.

Regretfully, he tossed the tainted fruit into the orchard. Some animal would no doubt enjoy the snack

Aytin paused at the thought.

"Hey Faelon?"

"Yes?" came the curt reply.

"Pigs like apples, right?"

The snort was answer enough.

"Yes, I know, it's a dumb question, but we're about to have enough apples to keep us going for a few days, right?"

Faelon wasn't stupid. He perked up as he caught on. "I think I know where you are going with this. Bait for a trap?"

"Or just pile up the rotten ones someplace where I can shoot a few."

"Perhaps," the dragon mused.

Aytin's face fell. "But that's not enough for you."

"One would feed me for a day. Maybe two," Faelon agreed. "But the idea has merit."

They continued with the harvest in silence for several minutes. Aytin had considered searching Zan's notes for some sort of poison, but decided it would be too likely to contaminate the meat.

He was just thinking about parceling the apples out in little batches so he could get one or two pigs with every one when Faelon spoke.

"Pit traps."

Aytin was confused. "I thought you said that they would smell anything you dug?"

"They will. But if they are fleeing, they will not have time to catch the scent."

"Okay..." The plan was starting to come together. "I think I see what you're saying. We put a pile of apples on a game trail. You dig some pits on one side, I wait on the other. Then when the pigs come, I shoot a few and the rest run into the trap."

Faelon surprised him with a rumbling chuckle. "Aytin, if the goal is to frighten the pigs, I can think of something much more terrifying than a few pointy sticks."

"Wha- Oh. Ohhh."

"Precisely." The dragon sounded a little smug. "I emerge from hiding, roar, scorch their flanks with bursts of fire, and the pigs will run right into the trap."

Aytin was excited. "Where should we set it up? If we do it near the pond then that's one direction they won't be able to run. Or there's that steep cliff on the side of the hill!"

"Or focus on the job at hand. I would prefer not to hunt on an empty stomach. A assume you feel likewise?"

"Oh." Aytin looked sheepishly at the tiny pile of apples he had collected so far. "You're probably right."

They went back to picking apples, but now all the rotten ones went into their own pile. There was also plenty of talk about how they would pull off their ambush. Mostly, it was Aytin voicing ideas as they came to him. Faelon generally contented himself to listen and occasionally make suggestions. Usually pointing out solutions to flaws the inexperienced dragonette hadn't considered.

"But if we put spikes on the bottom, you won't have to dig the pits as deep!" Aytin explained while he tied the corners of a blanket together into a makeshift sack. It bulged with fruit and juices already stained the bottom.

"I would rather dig a little more than have to deal with cleaning pig shit out of my dinner. And that is exactly what will happen when a branch as long and thick as one of my claws goes through their guts."

"Sure, that will happen to a few of them. But we'll catch more this way. That will make up for it."

"And I suppose you will be cutting and sharpening enough stakes to fill all of these pits?"

That was a detail he had forgotten about.

"Maybe you can just dig the pits a little deeper after all."

Aytin swore he could see the edge of a smile creeping onto Faelon's face as he dragged the bag of rotting fruit up his wing and onto the dragon's back. It was the last one. If there was an apple left in that orchard, it had taken lessons in camouflage from a changewing because they couldn't find it.

'Those crows are going to be really disappointed.' He looked for the birds in question and saw a group of them eyeing the pair from the forest.

The pair had already gorged on the harvest. What remained would last a few days. At least three, and four or five if they rationed things. If they couldn't hunt any meat tomorrow, the plan was to do exactly that.

It was only a bit after noon by the time they got back to the keep to unload. Then Aytin grabbed his ax and a shovel to go with his knife and bow before they headed back down to the field below.

From atop the rise, it had been easy to see where game trails cut through the grass below. Almost like flying, in fact. That thought had left Aytin in a somber mood as they planned their ambush.

A number of those game trails converged near the pond. Unfortunately it didn't look quite large enough to act as one side of their ambush, but the nearby mesa provided a steep enough rise to act as a barrier. With the bait in the right place, it would be easy to drive the herd into a line of pits. There was even a convenient depression formed by a seasonal creek nearby. It wasn't quite big enough to hide a dragon, but a little bit of digging would change that easily enough.

The streambed and mesa made a shape something like a wide V, with the pond at the point. Faelon didn't waste any time beginning a series of trenches across the gap.

He took care to avoid digging nearby any of the game trails. It wouldn't do for the smell of a dragon to tip off their prey too soon. While that might let some of the pigs escape, Faelon was confident he could herd the bulk of them in the right direction.

Aytin watched in amazement as Faelon finished the first trench. It was almost as deep as a dragonette was tall, and nearly as wide. After digging up a length at least as long as he was, Faelon shoved most of the dirt into piles at either end. The mounds would channel anything headed that way into the traps.

'I wish we had him in the mines,' Aytin thought to himself. But considering the dragon's reaction to the suggestion of helping in the Alrak mines back at the beginning of the journey, he couldn't see that ever happening.

It turned out that disguising the pits would take a lot longer than digging them. Not that they needed to be all that well hidden; just enough that a fleeing animal wouldn't notice until it was too late. That still took dozens of branches, each covered with armloads of cut grass.

Once again, Faelon proved how helpful a dragon could be by simply knocking down several small trees and snapping off finger-width branches with the flick of a hand. All that was left for Aytin to do was strip off any remaining leaves and position them over the holes.

It was still exhausting work, often on treacherous ground. Twice, the edges of the pits gave way underneath his feet. It was only by channeling his magically enhanced sense of balance that he avoided falling in.

Sunset was fast approaching by the time they finished. Neither dragon nor dragonette had the strength to lift their tails as they dragged behind them. And both were covered in dirt and grime.

"Should we take a quick bath?" Aytin asked, not relishing another dip in the frigid water.

Despite his best efforts to protect them, his wings were filthy. Gingerly touching one of the long tears in the membrane, he jerked back with a quiet hiss. It was definitely getting worse.

"Yes. Although I hope the water is warmer," Faelon remarked as he strode towards the pond.

Thankfully, the sun had warmed the shallow pool. A little, at least.

Aytin only staggered a few times as he struggled out of the water and back to land where he dried himself using an old blanket. The rough wool still smelled of apples, but he'd rather smell like overripe fruit than be cold and wet.

He winced as the rough fabric caught on one of his wing rips. They were already burning from their dip in the water, and with the dirt cleaned off it was clear that the dark-blue swelling was spreading again.

Big drops of water suddenly spattered him, and he yelped in surprise.

Faelon had just emerged from the water and was shaking his bulk back and forth to dry off. Water rained down like a sudden storm and Aytin scrambled for cover.

"A little warning would have been nice!"

"You didn't need any this morning." The dragon sounded a little confused.

"Because I was ready for it this morning!"

"Why weren't you... oh." Faelon took a few steps closer and leaned towards Aytin, examining his wings.

The young dragonette fought the urge to pull them in tight. Instead, he let them extend slightly.

"Those look bad," the dragon remarked. He pushed closer and took a long sniff. "They smell bad, too."

"They're nothing like as bad as yours."

"I will heal." Faelon deliberately avoided looking at his broken and torn wing. They both knew that a dragon's healing couldn't regenerate what wasn't there, and a good third of the limb was missing.

It didn't feel right complaining about some little cuts in the face of that. "I'll be fine," Aytin said. "Zan had something he made that helped. I'll find the recipe tomorrow. There will be plenty of time to read while we wait for our dinner to show up, right?"

Faelon snorted in reply. "You need real medicine."

"I don't see a healer setting up shop around here. Do you?"

"There was some in the cargo."

That brought Aytin up short. "You had healing potions?"

There was an enormous difference between an apothecary's medicine and actual magic. Alchemically created potions were expensive, but well worth the cost. If a potion were powerful enough, or there were more than one, they might be able to fix Aytin's wings entirely. It would take debriding the wounds, but being able to fly again would be well worth the pain.

"Nothing so valuable. Our trade route was not that lucrative," Faelon replied, dashing the other's hopes. "But I carried prepared salves for treating infection. They're hidden with the rest of my cargo a few days' walk away."

"Oh." Aytin tried not to let the disappointment show in his voice. "We need more food before we can make that sort of hike, though. So I'll read through the journal, anyway."

His response was a draconic shrug. "I'll admit that the trip would be easier with a belly full of pork. But it is late, and tomorrow we rise at dawn."

"Don't remind me," Aytin grumbled. But he climbed up the offered wing and together the pair made their way back to the crumbling ruins of the keep.