Aytin sat atop Faelon as the pair made their way through the forest. A slight breeze carried with it the pungent odor of burnt bone, sinew, and scales; he wrinkled his snout in disgust. The smell persisted even now.

After the amputation, Faelon had managed to stay upright just long enough to dip the stump of his wing into the pool of glowing lava that was all that remained of a patch of ground in front of the keep. It effectively cauterized the wound, stopping the blood that was leaking past the makeshift tourniquet and evening out the ragged ax cuts.

As soon as his wound was sealed, the dragon had collapsed. Faint shutters ran along his flanks and he took deep, gasping breaths until sleep overtook him.

That had been nearly two days ago.

Aytin adjusted where he sat. He was just behind Faelon's neck, a good enough place to keep an eye on their surroundings. He had his bow gripped in one hand and an arrow in the other, on the off chance their passing would flush out some game. So far, they hadn't had any luck on that front.

The remaining meat and sacks of apples were lashed to Faelon's back. There was substantially less of both than there had been the morning before. When the dragon had awoken the morning after his amputation, he had gorged himself until he could barely move.

"It is more efficient this way," he had said. "Before a long flight, I will sometimes eat half an oxen."

The dragon had eaten substantially more than half an oxen worth of meat. Enough to actually make a dent in their supplies. And Aytin had joined him, stuffing himself until he couldn't eat another bite.

That was why he was once more looking to hunt for the table. Not with any great urgency, but a pig or a deer would certainly be a welcome addition to their stores.

But the forest was quiet.

That probably had something to do with a massive red dragon plodding through it and making enough noise to warn anything with more brains than a field mouse to be somewhere else.

Every so often, they would pass a tree with a wide slash in its trunk. Trail blazes that Faelon had made on his way to the keep. They were somewhat redundant, because a crippled dragon left a trail that even a half-blind city dweller could follow.

"I can't believe they never found your trail," Aytin commented as they passed a long furrow dug through the loam.

"They probably were looking elsewhere. I was more careful closer to where I fell."

"Oh?" Aytin prompted. He had been trying to strike up a conversation all day without much luck. That wasn't unusual with the normally stoic dragon, but after a long morning with nothing to do but stare at trees, he was getting bored.

"I spent most of the first day following a stream bed," Faelon replied, surprising his rider with an answer. "It is difficult to see tracks through water and on rocky banks. Especially from the air."

"And they were looking for your body, not a trail."

"That, too, yes." A few steps passed in silence, and then, "Tell me about them."

"About the brigands?" At the dragon's nod, he said, "Uh, sure. What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you can tell me. Anything might help. Especially about the blue."

"Uhh..." Aytin had to think. He hadn't had much direct contact with the other dragon. But he had managed to pick up a few things. "Kalthor - that's his name - he was a mercenary, I think. Before they sent him to the mines for something."

"How good of a mercenary?"

"I have no idea. It didn't exactly come up. But from some of the things I read in Zan's journal, it sounds like he hadn't been out of the mines for long." He considered for a few heartbeats, and then added, "I think a lot of the crew were in the mines until the last few years."

"Well, he let himself be captured. That says something."

"He's a lot smaller than you, too. Maybe a little more than half your size."

Faelon bobbed his head, slightly. "Blues generally are. But they make up for it with speed and the range of their damned breath weapon."

The memory of those lightning flashes sent a shudder along Aytin's back and down his tail. He could still hear the crack and see the afterimage seared into his eyes.

"What are you going to do?"

The dragon thought about the question for a few moments. "Truthfully, I do not know. If I can get him on the ground, he won't escape. Blues break rather easily." He snapped his jaws together with a loud clack. "And they are not fireproof."

"There were close to thirty dragonettes in the band," Aytin reminded him. "More like twenty-five now, but do you have a plan for them?"

"Do any of them strike you as lancer material?"

"No." Somehow, it was hard to see any of the brigands willingly slamming a lance into a dragon at a flying sprint. Something guaranteed to shatter bones, at best. They were mostly held together by greed and Xantha's force of personality. Not qualities that would lead to self-sacrifice.

"They're not going to let you go, though." Aytin added.

"No, they won't. But I will make it hard on them."

A thought occurred to Aytin. "If you kill Xantha, they actually might. Reed managed to kill their old leader, Del. And Nyx was the closest thing there was to Xana's rival. She seemed to think that was why she got left here watching me, so that her boss could cement her place on top without her undermining the whole thing."

"I still find it difficult to believe Xantha was a traitor," Faelon said, almost to himself.

"She was!"

"Peace. I was not saying otherwise. But she had a huntress's skills and a letter of recommendation from one of Reed's cousins."

"Probably forged."

"Certainly forged," Faelon agreed. "I know Thistle. I cannot imagine she would have been involved in anything that would have led to Reed's death."

He went quiet after that. And Aytin didn't try to interrupt this silence. Not until Faelon's steps slowly veered to the right, until they were turned nearly perpendicular to their original path.

"Faelon!"

"What? Oh." He turned back to face the proper direction. "Thank you."

"It's fine." Without his left wing's weight to balance the other, the dragon now had a tendency to drift to the right when he wasn't paying attention.

"Forging letters of recommendation is simply not a thing that is done," Faelon said, continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened. "Traders talk, and the deception would last no longer than a single journey. The forger would be blacklisted, at best. Although, I suppose one trip is all that she needed."

"Yeah," Aytin agreed. "She bragged about killing you being the plan from the beginning. I was just a lucky break as far as she was concerned."

"She was an excellent hand. Trader material, in fact. A capable guard, huntress, navigator, and she could predict the weather as well."

"She couldn't actually," Aytin interrupted. "Or she had some sort of relic that she could read. Her real magic makes her immune to fire."

"Really?" Faelon sounded interested. "How do you know?"

"She did this," Aytin motioned to his mutilated wings, "while holding a red hot knife."

His sister's knife.

"Interesting," the dragon rumbled. "She had a burn scar on one arm if I recall."

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Aytin remembered asking about it on the first day they had met. She had been rather touchy about it.

"It does not matter," Faelon continued. "A simple campfire might not burn her, but dragon fire is a different story. Not even another red could survive my breath for long."

The thought seemed to amuse Faelon. Or at least, the corners of his wide mouth twisted upwards.

He seemed content with his thoughts.

The forest around them had changed during the conversation. They were skirting around a section of dense growth. Most of the trees seemed shorter than the rest of the forest, with bushes and scrub packed between them.

It was too dense for even a dragon to push through, so they were skirting around it.

A little movement caught Aytin's eye and he lifted his bow. But whatever it was ducked back among the closely packed branches.

'Probably a rabbit. Or maybe a squirrel.'

If he had a clear shot, he might have taken it. The novelty of tirox had quickly worn off. Something about dry, unseasoned meat didn't lend itself to an enjoyable meal. Something hot and fresh would definitely hit the spot.

Hopefully, some of the spices had survived the crash. Or at least one of the barrels of salt. Something to make the unseasoned meat just a little more palatable.

There would be some time between when they found they reached the cache and when the pair would have to part ways. A week or two, at least. 'Plenty of time to hunt a boar. Slow cook it in one of those big iron pots, with plenty of salt and a few of those apples. One last good meal for Faelon.'

Aytin's thoughts turned dark at that.

'I can't believe he's so calm about it.' Aytin had known he would probably die when Xantha returned. He had thought he would die when he made his escape. But he had never had a choice about it. Faelon did.

The dragon could walk out into the woods at any time. An island was a huge place. With the two of them together, they had a decent chance of outlasting any search. Maybe even bringing Xantha's band to justice if they were able to find a frontier settlement and get help.

He couldn't help but wonder what his father would do in this situation. After all, the Bloodhorn had been a lancer. They chose to fly out to face certain death. Somehow, they had to come to terms with it. Maybe it was the same sort of thing.

"Hey, Faelon," Aytin asked, a sudden thought coming to him.

"Yes?"

"You knew my dad, right?"

"The previous Lord Luffin? I met him. That is not the same as knowing him."

Despite the unenthusiastic response, Aytin wasn't going to let the subject drop. "What was he like? People always tell stories about him, but they're always about the things he did." When Faelon didn't answer, he muttered, "Xantha told me more about him than my own mom."

"She likely lied."

Aytin disagreed. "Yeah, here's the thing, I don't think she did. It was too natural. Here I was, thinking he was like my brother Stonar. He's like what they always say the royal guard is. Big, strong, brave, and stoic."

Faelon grunted. "You have never met a member of the royal guard."

"What do you mean?" A few patrols had passed through the keep over the years. He had watched them from a distance as the officers met with his parents, but only his older siblings had ever been introduced.

"They are as... colorful as any soldiers I have met. They simply have fancier gear and better training."

"And lancers?"

"Even more so, by and large. The colorful part," he clarified. "It is a profession that attracts the desperate and the suicidally brave."

Aytin took a deep breath and said, "Xantha told me that I probably have half-siblings. From my dad."

"Then she likely was telling the truth." Faelon did not even try to avoid the point. "Lancers are known for their stamina, carousing, and lack of attachments. Your father did not strike me as any exception to the first two."

"And the last?"

"He was utterly devoted to your mother, your siblings, and your keep."

"Oh." That was something, at least. "What else was he like?"

"Proud. I may go so far as to say arrogant, save that he never boasted of something he could not do. And I never once saw him melancholy. He was perpetually full of energy. Always training with the guard or working on the keep or hosting us in the great hall. A superior cook, by all accounts, as well."

"Huh." It was a side of his dad that he had never heard before. His mom went out of her way not to talk about her former mate, and his older siblings had been little more than hatchlings when he was killed. They knew the stories, but not the dragonette.

"I did meet him once before he became a lord. Briefly, years ago, far to the east of the capital."

"Was he any different back then?"

"As I said, it was brief. I only found out who he was years later."

"So what happened?"

"Money was tight, and we were hired to deliver a cargo and ask no questions. The keep wasn't far off of our usual route, so we took the contract."

"That sounds dangerous."

"It can be. But such contracts are far from unheard of. There are lots of groups that would rather their purchases avoid the attention of the crown. Untaxed goods, artifacts, and supplies for groups that simply wish to live unnoticed. All pay well for discretion.

"And this cargo paid quite well. We were willing to overlook any irregularities in what appeared to be a simple shipment of food and tools. There were no surprise inspections by the guard, and no suspicious groups tailing us as we approached our destination. The job seemed to be going well up until we arrived.

"We weren't invited inside of the keep. That was unusual, but not unheard of. It was spring, and most of the inhabitants were busy with planting. We unloaded, collected our pay, and were on our way within the hour."

"Did you ever smuggle anything to my keep?" Aytin interrupted.

The edges of the dragon's mouth twisted upwards. "Not that you need to know."

His smile quickly disappeared as he continued his tale. "We did not know what it was we brought to this keep. Not until a single haggard dragonette carrying a hatchling flew up to meet us as we passed through the outskirts of the keep's territory.

"Her name was Sexta and she begged us to take her and her child with us, rather than return her. And we could see a party beginning to fly out after us.

"Reed's mother, Ivy, was in charge then. And she gave the order to keep flying and pretend not to see the group until we could hear Sexta out.

"She told us that she had been on the wing since the previous winter. That she had hidden in a nearby cave to hibernate, along with her clutch of eggs. And as a huntress, she was able to survive on her own, for a time. Until the first traders of the season arrived. And she warned us exactly what it was that they were hiding.

Faelon turned slightly, so he could watch Aytin with one of his eyes. "These were not tax evaders or some independent minded keep. They were eating their own eggs."

Aytin felt his gorge rising. The idea was sickening. Like eating Faelon's amputated wing, only somehow worse.

There were the occasional rumors of some degenerate or desperate settlement reduced to such an act. But they were only stories, told by visitors after too much ale. Or so he thought.

"That's... that's..."

"Absolutely disgusting, yes. And it was worse than that."

He had a sinking feeling, but asked, "How?"

"The food and tools we brought them? They were merely a cover. Somehow, this group had found a supplier in the city. Someone that paid the destitute among them for their unwanted eggs."

"Oh, gods."

"Exactly. Needless to say, I did not let the party from the keep catch us. And I happily changed course when Ivy ordered us to report this to the nearest guard outpost."

"And my dad was there?"

The dragon shook his head. "No, he was not a lancer at the time. And we crossed paths before we even reached the outpost."

"Before...?"

"He was Sexta's hatchling."

Aytin's jaw dropped open in sheer shock. "But... what... how?"

"We left them with the guard, so I do not know what happened to them afterwards. It was only years later I recognized him, after he had become the Lord Luffin."

"You recognized him? All those years later?"

"Your horns are rather distinctive, after all. Sexta had them as well, and he favored his mother."

Aytin instinctively reached up to brush his left horn where it jogged to the side. "That's... not a story anyone ever told about him."

"I expect not. The Inquisition frowns on telling such tales. I believe that they were involved in purging the cult, in the end."

That made sense. Aytin never knew anything about his paternal grandparents. Or much about his dad's origin, other than he was supposed to have been from the capital. That was where he had trained to be a lancer, anyway.

"Damn," he muttered.

"I am surprised your mother never told you about this. She, at least, should have known."

"She doesn't talk about him," Aytin said, in a flat voice. "Not like she ever talked much to me, anyway. Always 'busy'." He snorted a little. "I don't think I saw her for more than a few minutes a day when I was little."

"Why do you think that is?"

Aytin thought about that question for a minute. "I don't know. Maybe I remind her of dad? But she's fine with Stonar. Zara and Suuie, too." He let out a hiss of frustration. "And now I'll probably never know. Not for sure.

"I'll never see her. I'll never see my brothers and sister. Lin..." He had to start taking deep breaths to keep from breaking down completely.

"You will see them again." Faelon didn't turn his head from the path as he said it. He just kept plodding forward.

"I don't know how," Aytin said, voice thick with suppressed emotion. "I'm going to spend the rest of my life on this fucking island. I might even make it to the far side if I'm lucky." He sniffed a little, and blinked to clear his suddenly cloudy eyes.

This time Faelon stopped, and twisted to fully face the young dragonette. "You will see them again," he said. "Remember that. Always remember that."

Then he turned back to the path ahead. Aytin remained silent, alone with his thoughts as they walked through the lengthening afternoon shadows.