Aytin awoke to the sun already high in the sky.

It was late morning, still slightly on the cool side. The temperature probably contributed to how long he had slept.

The young dragonette stretched, extending his arms and wings to work the kinks out. Grass and rocks didn't exactly make for the most comfortable sleeping arrangements.

But he was delighted to find that however painful the medicine had been, it seemed to have worked. The swelling around both gashes had reduced significantly, and the pain had lessened. Hopefully, that meant the healing could finally begin in earnest.

Faelon's deep, regular breathing revealed the dragon was still asleep. He had curled up nose to tail, with his right wing spread over him like a massive blanket. Every so often, one of his ear tips twitched slightly in response to some distant noise.

Up above, clouds drifted overhead. Big puffy ones. Aytin was tempted to just lean back and watch them. The previous night had left him sated in a way he couldn't remember feeling. And there wasn't anyone to order him around. No threats of violence if he refused to carry out some menial chore.

It was the sight of a number of circling birds that eventually got him moving. Vultures.

"Oh, shit."

The cookfires had long since burned to ash. But the meat hanging above them had been left unattended for hours.

'If it's ruined, Faelon will throw me off the side of the island.'

Thankfully, the tirox wasn't ruined. Slightly charred on one side and far from delicious, but the strip Aytin cut off one of the haunches was edible, at least. It was a bit dry and very chewy, almost like a soft jerky. And the smoky flavor wasn't bad. At the very least, it would keep for a while. That was definitely something going for it.

But if the scavengers orbiting above were any indication, they would need to get it under cover, and soon.

"Hey, Faelon! Good morning!"

The dragon woke with a jerk, eyes snapping open. They seemed unfocused for a few moments, but then they landed on Aytin, and he dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"It certainly is." Faelon sounded almost happy. Certainly content. A full meal had done wonders for the dragon.

"Are you up for a little work? I think we need to get our food into the keep and under cover before something gets any ideas."

"That is a fair point," Faelon agreed. He, too, could see the circling vultures. "But first, I will break my fast. I'd rather carry it up the hill in my belly than on my back."

Aytin could still feel his comparatively tiny meal sitting in his gut. "You're still hungry after last night?"

"Yessss..." Faelon replied with a long hiss.

Aytin shrugged. There was a big difference between a week of short rations and nothing at all. Some of Faelon's ribs were even now still visible. "How much do you want?"

"Half of one of those haunches should do nicely."

The haunch in question weighed nearly as much as Aytin. It took Falon's help to get it off the spit and onto some clean grass.

Right about then, a carving knife would have been nice. They had a couple hunting knives, an ax, and a short sword. With nothing else better to use, Aytin started hacking away at the meat with the sword, carving off head sized chunks.

"Toss it," Faelon said.

"This?" Aytin held up the newly cut piece of meat. At a nod, he shrugged, and threw the hunk of meat into the air. It wasn't a great toss, but the dragon snaked his head out and snapped it up in his jaws before gulping it down.

With a slight grin on his muzzle, Aytin thumped his tail repeatedly to the ground in mock appreciation of the feat. Faelon just eyed the much smaller dragonette and cocked his head slightly to the left, obviously waiting for the next bite.

It followed soon enough. And another. And another.

"We'll need to start a tirox ranch to keep up with your appetite," Aytin joked.

"It ought to last long enough." A glance to the main carcass still suspended over the coals made it clear that the pair had barely dented their food supply.

"It should at least give us long enough to figure out how to hunt some deer or pigs," Aytin agreed. He had vague plans. Mostly ideas for traps and such. But with the specter of starvation no longer looming behind them, there would be time to experiment.

"No need. There is enough here for three, possibly four weeks at a stretch. It will be enough."

The young dragonette gave his companion a funny look. "I'm not all that familiar with the weather up here, but won't it be at least a couple of months before it's cold enough to hibernate?"

"About that, yes," Faelon agreed, before snapping up another piece of meat.

"Sooo...?"

Faelon fixed Aytin with a flat gaze. "So by the time winter arrives, I don't expect to be here anymore."

"Is... someone going to be looking for us?"

The snort might have been a laugh, except there was absolutely no humor in it. "Do I need to spell it out to you?" Faelon asked, tone biting for the first time since Aytin had known the dragon.

Without waiting for an answer, the dragon pressed on. "The first snow will cover my bones."

That brought Aytin up short. He stood there, blooding sword in hand, gawking at the dragon. "But... but why?"

"Have you honestly not thought further ahead than your next meal?"

"Of course!" Aytin snapped, indignantly. "There's a keep here. That means somewhere there are bound to be people on this island. We just need to find them. And if we can't find them right away, we hole up in a cave somewhere to sleep through the winter. Then we find them in the spring."

"And you might even survive. But what about me?"

"What about you? Do you think I'm going to leave you here so that Xantha can have Kalthor blast you with lightning from above?"

The dragon huffed. "My life ended when that cowardly ocean-spawned blue blew me out of the sky. You might fly again. Me?" He tried to lift the remains of his left wing, only for it to flop around awkwardly. "I'm never leaving this island. Do you understand that? Never.

"They killed my crew, shattered my wing, and stranded me here on the edge of nowhere. But," and now the dragon's words turned bloodthirsty, "if I breathe my last breath with my fangs around that traitor's throat, I'll die content."

Aytin could only stare. In response, Faelon just lifted an eye ridge and looked pointedly at the meat laying untouched at his feet.

Taking the hint, Aytin stooped down and started cutting again.

But he couldn't stop thinking about the dragon's words. He knew their chances of survival were long, but it was worth making the attempt. Was he being a coward for wanting to live instead of throwing his life away against impossible odds? A crippled dragon and flightless dragonette against nearly thirty experienced brigands and an adult blue was the definition of futile.

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He thought about his prayer the previous night, and the vengeance he had asked for. And if the opportunity came to shove a spear into Xantha's black heart, he knew that he would take it. But unless one of the gods personally came down and informed him otherwise, he didn't see any way to so much as scuff her armor. Not in the state they were in.

But that left another problem.

"You know, I won't make it on my own."

Faelon didn't have a response to that. In fact, when Aytin tried to meet his eyes, he turned his head away.

After a few seconds of waiting, Aytin sighed and returned to carving the meat.

He tossed another chunk of meat to the waiting dragon. It didn't fly quite as high as the previous ones, and Faelon had to lunge slightly to keep it from splattering on the ground. But neither said anything.

They repeated the whole thing a few times before Faelon said, "No more."

Shrugging, Aytin wiped the sword off and returned it to its sheath. Then the two began the task of getting the bounty of meat onto the dragon's back.

They worked in relative silence, with only a few words spoken here and there. Nonetheless, the pair managed to get everything loaded without much trouble. Faelon was obviously experienced with the process from the years he spent transporting cargo. Aytin was mostly relegated to lashing things down, under the dragon's terse direction.

When it came time to move the spitted torso section, Faelon simply picked the whole thing up with his mouth and gently set it on his back.

The two walked up the hill to the keep's ruins without saying a thing. Every once in a while, Aytin would glance up at the plodding dragon, but he was always focused on something far ahead of them.

Hauling the meat into the keep itself proved to be a challenge.

"I can't drag that in there," Aytin stated, indicating the narrow passageway into the ruins. "And I'd prefer not to spend the rest of the day cutting it into little pieces."

When Faelon remained silent, the young dragonette pushed on. "I'm not trying to be negative here. I'm trying to think of something else we could do, but..." he trailed off with a shrug.

Faelon looked the keep up and down. After some consideration, he gave a small nod. "Untie the ropes, and roll off the small bits," he ordered.

Trusting that the dragon knew what he was doing, Aytin did as he was told. He had to grin in dark amusement at how easily the knots came loose, considering who he had learned them from. But he didn't spend too much time reminiscing. It only took a few minutes before he was dragging the last of the haunches down the impromptu ramp formed by Faelon's right wing.

Carefully gripping the bulk of the tirox in his massive jaws, the dragon lifted it. He set his two front legs on the side of the keep and began to climb. Or more accurately, he used the stone wall as a support as he extended himself to stand on just his hind legs so that he could reach the large gap in the side of the building.

There was the clattering of loose stones as the dragon dipped his head through the hole and put even more weight against the neglected wall. But it held for the most part, and when Faelon reemerged his jaws were empty.

"Thanks," Aytin said as the dragon eased himself down the wall. A little more masonry came with him, but whoever had built the keep had known their stuff.

The brigands had a few rough planks in the keep. A couple of them lashed together served as a makeshift sled. Aytin used it to haul the remainder of the meat inside, and piled it against the section Faelon had deposited in one corner. He wished he had a blanket or something to cover it with, but one that large could make enough bedding for half a keep. 'Hopefully the smell of a nearby dragon will keep the rats away.'

When he emerged, Faelon was stretched out on the ground, relaxing in the midday sun. Although on closer inspection, the dragon wasn't at all relaxed. His muscles were tense, like he was ready to spring. And he was staring off into the distance towards the place where he had ambushed Nyx and the rest of the brigands.

"As crazy as it sounds, I forgot how big you are," Aytin said by way of greeting. He sat down on a chunk of fallen stone, and glanced off into the distance. There wasn't anything in particular to look at, though.

When Faelon didn't say anything, he picked up a stone and started idly flipping it around. A thought occurred, and Aytin drew on his magic until he managed to balance it on the tip of one talon. It took a few tries, but soon he had it sticking like glue. Scooping to grab a handful of rocks, he started balancing them on top of one another.

He was starting on his third when Faelon spoke.

"We should recover the cache."

Concentration interrupted, the stones clattered to the ground. Aytin looked up at the dragon, confusion written on his face.

"All of the things I was carrying that survived the crash," he said, in answer to the unasked question. "I hid them a few days' hike away."

"Okay, yeah, those would be really useful."

"There are tools, a little preserved food, medicines," he looked pointedly at the dragonette's wings. They were much improved, but still held a hint of dark blue swelling in places. "It should be enough to give you a chance to survive the winter."

"I... It could still help both of us. Together we-"

"No." The word held a ring of finality that brooked no argument.

Right then, Aytin felt like a coward. He was sure that if his dad was there, he would be ashamed of his son. But he wasn't his dad. He couldn't go up against a small army. Not even with his wings intact and a set of enchanted armor.

There was nothing else that he could do. Absolutely nothing at all.

"Okay," he said, instead. "And... thank you."

Faelon dipped his head in acknowledgement. "We will leave the morning after tomorrow. I will need that long to recover."

"Recover?" The dragon still looked like he had swum through hell, but that was a huge improvement since they had been reunited. He was moving as well as a ground-bound dragon could be expected to.

"I need you to cut off my wing."

At first, Aytin thought he had misheard. Except when the dragon turned to face him, his expression registered.

Ears sagged and his muscles were slack with regret. His tail was limp behind him and Faelon looked as defeated as Aytin had ever seen him. But in his eyes there was a mithril-hard core of resignation.

"Faelon, I..."

"Not even a unicorn could save this." He twitched the remains of his left wing, then snorted slightly in pain. "Bones can knit. Tears in membrane and muscle can close. But nothing can heal what's not there.

"And it's long since time I accepted that."

"You're sure about this." It wasn't really a question, but Faelon bobbed his head. "Okay, when?"

"Now," came the instant reply. "Make it quick."

Aytin gaped for a moment, but when the dragon didn't say anything he rushed off to find the ax.

It was just inside of the door to the keep, right where he had left it. A minute with the whetstone and its edge was as sharp as he could make it.

He paused for a moment on the threshold, looking at all the supplies laid out around him. 'What else? Is there anything else? Oh!' His eyes landed on a coil of rope, which he grabbed. And a stout piece of firewood. All the while, he tried to ignore what he was about to do with them.

When he returned, Faelon silently extended his right wing. Aytin walked up it like he was the dragon's executioner.

"You're absolutely sure about this?" he asked one final time.

"It has been nothing but a hindrance since I was crippled," Faelon answered. "I thought... I hoped..." He struggled for words for a few seconds, and Aytin waited patiently. Finally, the dragon continued. "It is part of me. Even broken as it is. But... it is a part of me I cannot keep.

"Yesterday, when that tirox..." he trailed off again, collecting his thoughts. "If a mere animal can take advantage of my weakness, that blue would no doubt do the same. I cannot afford to let sentiment get in the way of my revenge.

"And," he added, with the barest hint of a smile at the edge of his lips, "it is most uncomfortable."

"I-I can imagine," Aytin said, choking a little on the words.

He made his way up to the broken wing. Its base was shattered, and the red scales around it were puffed out, purplish-blue swelling visible in patches around the bases.

The best spot for the amputation was obvious: the compound break near the root. It would take a saw to cut through the bone, and every second of the process would be excruciating agony. But even with just the skin and tendons to cut through, the limb was still wider than a dragonette's torso. There would be no getting around the pain.

Aytin realized that he was hyperventilating. He forced himself to stop, and then take a single deep breath.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," Faelon replied, turning his head to face forward.

"Do you want me to warn you?"

"No."

Aytin nodded to himself. He tied the rope around the base of the wing using the strongest knot he knew. Faelon hissed in pain as the improvised tourniquet tightened. It got worse as Aytin started twisting the length of wood stuck inside of the loop, cinching it down as far as it would go.

He thought about waiting for the lack of blood flow to put the limb to sleep. 'But didn't he mention he could barely feel it, anyway?' Aytin hoped that was the case. And he could see Faelon's claws digging furrows into the ground. 'That settles it. The anticipation has to be killing him.'

The ax was heavy in Aytin's hands as he lifted it. A week of daily woodcutting had honed his technique. 'Just wood. It's just like cutting wood.' He channeled a little magic, and the ax suddenly felt steadier in his hands as its balance shifted.

"Just wood," he muttered.

The ax flashed in the light.

And a second sun erupted as a red dragon screamed in pure agony.