"Delerion."

"Wa-what's a delerion?"

One perk of traveling with a red dragon was that no matter how wet it was, lighting a fire was never a problem. Aytin was sitting next to a blazing campfire while Faelon angled his wing to shield them from the tail end of the passing storm as best as he could.

It was colder after the front's passage, with a strong north wind whistling through the trees. Aytin huddled close to the fire as the sky dimmed with evening's approach.

"It is something I should have remembered sooner," Faelon answered. He was resting his head on the ground less than a wingspan away, doing his best to keep it under his upraised wing.

"A delerion is a dark creature. Four legged and black furred, with a tail and pair of protrusions extending from their foreheads."

Aytin thought back to the glimpse of dark fur and the animalistic scream of pain, then nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what I saw. I think." He held a hand up to a little above waist height. "About this tall?"

"That would fit the stories. And you saw things that were not there? Hallucinations?"

"An army of darklings," Aytin confirmed. "And I thought I could fight them!"

Faelon shifted slightly, and a waterfall of rain slid off of his wing. "It is part of their magic. They force their victim into a state of delirium as they feed off of them."

"And what do they feed on?" Aytin surreptitiously checked himself for spots of black corruption. It was hard to tell in the cloudy twilight and flickering flames, but he didn't see anything but blue scales and white skin.

"Magic. And through it, life essence. They sense it, and are drawn to it. Given enough time, they will devour it."

Aytin gulped. "If that had gone on much longer..."

"You may yet have lived. They are rumored to have a cunning sort of intelligence. This one must have been stalking us for days, feeding on us until it was sated."

"Okay. That would explain a lot." The young dragonette nodded to himself as pieces fell into place. "So how do we kill it?"

"Hopefully, that will be unnecessary. Delerions are cowardly. A wound may be enough to drive it away permanently. If not..." Faelon considered. "They are physically weak. Burn them, crush them, stab them, fill them full of arrows."

"I only have one arrow left." Aytin fingered the last shaft nervously. The short sword and knives just didn't seem like enough.

'Maybe a spear? There's plenty of branches around here.'

Faelon interrupted his thoughts. "Killing it from range would be the safest option. These creatures are rare and tend to avoid populated areas, but when they are found their location elimination usually falls to huntresses.

"If they are present, dragons often aid in the final extermination. For while we are not immune to the effects..." He trailed off.

"The memories?"

Faelon grunted something unintelligible in response, but continued the explanation. "We are not immune to the effects of a delerion," he repeated. "But we are more resilient."

Looking at the enormous red dragon, it was hard to imagine anything so comparatively small being able to hurt him. But size wasn't everything.

The rain had finally passed. Water still dripped from leaves and needles, but the stiff wind was quickly scouring them dry.

Aytin stood and hunted around the campsite. In the dim light of the setting sun, he found what he was looking for: a sapling about half as thick as his wrist at the base and a little longer than he was tall. His ax made short work of it.

"What are you doing with that?" Faelon hadn't said a word up until then, watching silently as the dragonette worked.

"Making a spear," he said as he started stripping the bark and branches with a knife. "I'll take first watch. You get some sleep."

Faelon raised one eye-ridge. "I did say it would be unlikely to return."

"Yes, you did," Aytin said. 'But a sleeping dragon isn't as reassuring as it once was,' he added, silently.

When his companion didn't elaborate, Faelon asked, "Do you know how to use a spear?"

"My brother taught me." He grimaced at the resin sticking to his hands, then held the shaft over the fire for a few moments. That burned the worst of it off.

"I wasn't great," Aytin added. "But I know the basics. And..."

Taking the rough length in a two handed grip, he used it to lever himself to his feet and let his magic flow. He instinctively felt that his grip was wrong, and shifted it slightly. 'Perfect.'

He stood there for a handful of heartbeats, then lashed out. The unsharpened point hit only air, but that didn't seem to bother the dragonette. He stabbed twice more, and then swept the shaft around in some sort of block. The moves weren't lightning fast and some of them were jerky, but the length of green wood felt better in his hand than a master crafted spear ever had.

Spinning, Aytin grounded the butt, bracing it against the ground and angling it to impale a phantom attacker's charge. A heartbeat later and he was standing straight with the handmade spear held vertically at his right side.

His chest heaved and his heart pounded, but there was a smile at the edges of his lips. "It's been a while since I did that drill."

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"It was well done."

Aytin shrugged. "Stonar could have done better. But like I said, I know the basics." He settled back next to the fire, and went to work on the point.

He heard shuffling as Faelon laid down nearby, but ignored his companion's movements. The sounds disappeared soon enough as the dragon settled in for the night.

When the spear point was as sharp as he could get it, Aytin held it in the fire and turned it like meat cooking on a spit. It didn't take long before the end was a uniform golden brown. With the moisture baked off, the tip was more rigid than before. Perfect for pinning a delerion to the ground.

There were some scraps of leather packed away with the gear he had salvaged from the brigands. Which was still tied up with all the rest of their supplies on Faelon's back.

Aytin winced. He hadn't even thought to unload the dragon, and all of those ropes had to be swollen horribly from the rain.

His enormous wing was pulled over his head, but something about Faelon's breathing told Aytin that the dragon was still awake.

"Faelon?"

He didn't answer, but his wing shifted enough to reveal one of his enormous eyes.

"Do you want me to untie the supplies?"

After a moment, Faelon replied, "If you could loosen this knot, that would be enough." He extended his rear right leg slightly, indicating the rope looped around it.

The dragonette scrambled to do exactly that. Night had turned the forest black as pitch, but after so much practice he didn't need to see the knot to untie it. His fingers were guided by touch and instinct, and quickly had the line undone.

Something heavy slid off of the dragon's back and hit the ground with a thud.

"Anything else?"

Faelon sighed and shifted slightly. "That will do."

Aytin nodded, although his companion had no way to see him. He did take a moment to fetch his bag - and the materials inside - before returning to the fire.

It was a matter of minutes to add a rough leather hand-wrap to the shaft and pin the ends in place. He would have preferred glue, but he didn't have any, and this would work well enough.

Something subtle had changed in the sounds of the forest. Aytin's grip around the spear tightened, and he tried to peer into the darkness. Beyond the light of the fire, the night was impenetrable.

When he couldn't see beyond a few wingspans he tried his other senses. A few moments later, he relaxed. Faelon's breaths had evened out, and a slight whistle revealed the dragon had finally fallen asleep.

It was hard to tell time without the sun. There were glimpses of the moon from behind fast moving clouds, but they were few and far between. Aytin had planned to stay up until a bit past midnight, but he couldn't tell how long that would be.

'How long has it been? It can't have been that long.'

But the day had been a hard one.

With nothing to focus on, he could feel his eyes drooping. A shake of his head did little to clear the need for sleep.

Hoping the movement would help him stay awake, Aytin stood and stretched. As quietly as he could, he walked the perimeter of the camp, at the very edge of the dim circle of firelight. There wasn't much to see, and the smells of the forest were overwhelmed by the scent of woodsmoke and newly fallen rain.

A few sounds just managed to reach him in the brief calm between gusts of wind. The rustling of small animals in the brush. Insects buzzing. Birds calling softly to one another. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Even under the cover of the trees, the cold and wind sapped his strength. He had to retreat back to the fire, and huddle close. Damp clothes didn't help, and the thought brought memories of his nights in captivity back to the forefront.

At least this time he had a fire. And a friend.

Aytin looked back to where Faelon lay, just a few steps away. Even asleep, he exuded an aura of safety.

Carefully, he eased back until he was resting against the dragon's comforting bulk. Faelon didn't so much as stir.

'Hopefully that means he's not seeing any memories. And that the delerion really is gone.'

The more he thought about it, the less sure Aytin was that he could actually do anything if the beast returned. It had been a miracle that he managed to wound that one. There was no way he could rely on miracles.

But the false visions had seemed so normal at the time. And there were the handful of odd thoughts and comments he had made on the journey. They had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, but made no sense in hindsight.

He tried thinking about the things he saw. His new spear looked exactly like he remembered it. Its roughly pealed shaft glistened slightly in the firelight. 'If I were imagining things, I hope I would have at least imagined a proper steel speartip.'

The rest of the camp was more of the same. Nothing seemed out of place. But it wouldn't, now would it?

Aytin closed his eyes and rubbed a hand along the base of his horns. There didn't seem to be any way to distinguish the real from the hallucinations. If he could just talk to Faelon, the dragon might be able to pick up on odd thoughts. Like when he had talked about glasmoles on the island.

But they both needed sleep. Aytin was pretty sure it wasn't just the cold that was making it hard to keep his eyes open. Two nights of false visions in a row. Having his magic, his life force fed on. And he hadn't been walking for days straight.

There was a blanket in his pack. Aytin retrieved it and wrapped it around himself. That and Faelon's natural warmth would keep the worst of the chill away.

The moon peaked out briefly from behind clouds and trees. Its crescent was lower than earlier glimpses. If it wasn't midnight, it would be soon.

'I'll give Faelon a little longer. An hour. Maybe two. It's not like I have to walk tomorrow.'

His thoughts turned to the future. Faelon hadn't been able to tell what had survived the crash. But he had been fairly certain the majority of the cargo had made it intact. More than enough to keep a dragonette alive throughout the winter.

A long, lonely winter.

Aytin shivered, feeling Faelon's thick scales slide across his back. 'I don't want to die, but... I don't want to be alone. Not for months or years or the rest of my life.'

He was starting to wonder if the life of a wandering hermit would be any life at all.

There had been weapons in the cargo. The guards' weapons that they hadn't been able to reach in the confusion of the ambush. And some for sale as well. The guards' crossbows. Arrowheads, steel spear points, knives, and a sword or two. All sorts of weapons destined for keeps without a skilled smith.

Maybe he could use them, somehow. If he could think of some way to fight twenty or twenty-five brigands, he would. Them and their dragon.

It didn't seem likely, but he wracked his brain for a solution. Sniping Xantha before she knew what had happened. Filling the keep with Faelon's saliva mixed with oil and lighting it off when the brigands returned. Hiding and sneaking in to poison their food. Knocking the keep's walls down with the brigands inside.

Nothing seemed likely to work. But if he could only think of something, anything, he would do it. He would do anything to keep Faelon from throwing his life away.

Aytin never even realized he had closed his eyes before the oblivion of sleep overtook him.