Aytin groaned.

Somehow he had turned over in his sleep. Now his tail was kinked and his wings were complaining. He shifted slightly, and his shoulders joined into the rising chorus of aches and pains.

Still, no one had come to wake him. He was so tired. He needed more sleep. But the pain just kept getting worse.

Finally, he mustered the will to move. His arms fought him when he did. Somehow they had gotten tangled with his wings. His sleep fogged mind kept going back to all the knots Xantha had him tying and untying.

"Need to get some water on them," he mumbled. Or tried to. His mouth was so dry that his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and the whole thing came out garbled.

It took more effort than it should have to pry his eyes open. They weren't stuck. His eyelids just didn't seem to want to respond.

When he finally got them open, Aytin was greeted by the muted hues of a twilight sky. Whether it was dawn or dusk, he couldn't say.

The flickering light of a well-stoked campfire definitely implied the latter. And he certainly didn't feel like he had slept through the night.

Oddly, Aytin didn't actually remember going to sleep. He had woken up in Lazon's Rest, flown with Faelon for most of the morning, then there was the storm, and-

Every bit of drowsiness left the young dragonette in a terror-fueled rush. He jerked and ropes around his arms and wings dug into flesh. Thrashing back and forth did nothing to loosen the bonds.

He tried to get a talon into the knots, but whoever had tied them knew what they were doing. By bending a hand back until his wrist screamed in pain, he could just barely brush a talon against the knot.

A silhouette blocked the light of the fire. Aytin looked up, trying to make out the figure in the dim light.

"Well, well, look who's finally awake."

The voice was familiar, at least. "Xana?" Aytin croaked. "Thank the gods you're-" He cut himself off as her appearance registered.

She wore steel and leather armor, with the hilt of a saber glittering on her hip. A pair of dragonettes flanked her, but their relaxed demeanor made it clear that they were anything but guards.

"I was worried about you," Xantha continued, ignoring the dawning horror on Aytin's face. "Zan insisted that his concoction wouldn't kill you. Then again, you are a scrawny runt of a dragonette, so it figures."

Her voice dripped with scorn and the young dragonette flinched. It made no sense. She was Xantha. Affable. Patient. Good natured. Not... not this.

She reached down and Aytin tried to jerk away from her grasp. Her mocking laughter rang in his ears as she hauled him upright, the rough stone scraping his back and wings.

"He don't look like much," the dragonette to the left commented. He was stocky, and practically had muscles on his muscles. "Sure he's worth it?"

"Of course he is. Aren't you kid?" Xantha kicked him, and Aytin woofed in pain. "He's not the son of the Lady in some crappy little frontier keep. No, you should see the place." She waved expansively at the crumbling walls around them. "Over a hundred strong, with plenty of fields and enough mines to practically mint their own coins. They'll pay twice what we'll get from whatever we find on that cowardly excuse for a red's corpse."

She leaned down close enough for Aytin to smell her breath. "They had better. Or else they'll get back your tail, after we drop the rest of you over the side into hell."

Aytin lunged, trying to latch onto her muzzle with his own razor teeth.

She just dodged back with more mocking laughter. "Oh, you call that a fight? Pitiful. Gods damned pitiful."

Another kick knocked Aytin sideways. This time it was accompanied by a line of fire as talons scored his flesh. "Son of Bloodhorn? He'd fucking disown you if he could see you like this. You know that, right?"

Pain, terror, and rage warred in the young dragonette's mind, along with the insidious suspicion that Xantha might be right.

He had been useless back on Faelon. 'They all died, and I just stood there. I didn't even draw my knife until Reed. Until she...'

"I really did see the Bloodhorn once," Xantha went on, almost conversationally. "Even talked to him. He was quite the flirt, too. More than just a flirt if you caught his eye."

She leered and Aytin ground his teeth together so hard he tasted blood.

"I never did manage that, but one of my huntresses did. A pity she couldn't have lured him out to the keep. He would have made an excellent guard captain."

Aytin managed to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't stop a growl of raw fury.

The other dragonettes just snickered. "Oh, come on, this is great news," Xantha said with mock cheer. "Think of all the brothers and sisters you never knew you had! You might even live to meet a few someday. Now hold still."

He tried snapping at her once again, only to get a nasty backhand in response. "None of that! I need proof that we have you. Keep pissing me off and I'll cut off that little stub of a horn you're so proud of."

She pulled him upright once more and there was the soft sound of a blade clearing its sheath. Aytin braced for pain, but none came. Xantha sliced through a corner of his shirt, and she rubbed the scrap roughly across his wounds. It was quickly stained blue with blood.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"There, that wasn't so bad," she cooed like he was a hatchling with a scraped knee.

"Any half trained mage should be able to tell that it came from you. Your family's rich enough to afford one of those. And if they're still not convinced, well, I do have your fancy little knife."

She brought up her hand so that Aytin could get a good look at the blade in question. He instinctively reached for his belt, only for the ropes to bring him up short.

"And once they've realized that their precious little boy really is in danger, I'm sure that they'll be happy to pay a mere three hundred gold to see you back, healthy and whole. Speaking of which…"

Xantha addressed her so far silent companion, a shorter female with mismatched armor criss-crossing her chest. "Nyx, get the kid some food."

"Why the hell can't you get it yourself?"

Xantha turned slowly to face Nyx. "Because Del made me second in command of this outfit. When he let himself get killed by a fucking trader that left me in charge of you lot. So you'll fucking well do what I tell you. Understood?"

She glared back at Xantha, but the bigger dragonette didn't blink. When Nyx moved a hand towards her sword, Xantha moved like only a trained fighter could.

Nyx instinctively backed away from a wing flared towards her right side, but it was only a distraction. Xantha twisted inside of her subordinate's guard. One hand found a wing root and gave it a savage yank, putting the other dragonette off balance.

She caught herself, only to find a bronze knife at her throat. When she tried to pull away, Xantha twisted her other hand. A whimper of pain escaped Nyx's lips as her wing twisted. It would only take a tiny bit more pressure to pop the limb out of its socket.

"I asked you if you understood?" Xantha asked, mildly. She wasn't even breathing hard.

For her part, Nyx nearly broke her neck nodding. "Yes!" she gasped. "Yes, I understand!"

"I understand, what?"

Xantha twisted slightly, eliciting a keening groan from her victim. "Yes, boss!"

"Good."

Nyx fell to her knees, suddenly free of restraint. She quickly staggered to her feet, but kept her eyes down as she rubbed the abused muscles in her wing.

"Well?" Xantha demanded. "Our young friend here is starving. Are you going to get him some food or not?"

The dragonette nodded jerkily and then skulked off.

"Now, as for you. Are you going to behave yourself?"

It took Aytin a moment to realize she was talking to him, but even then he did his best not to give any indication that he had heard. Not that it mattered, because Xantha seemed to just want a chance to heap more scorn on him.

"Let's be clear. All you have to do is exactly what you're told. No more, no less. Sit here, eat, sleep, count the clouds as they pass. It'll be over in a few weeks and then this will all just be some bad memory you can lie to your hatchlings about.

"But try and fuck me over... well, I'm sure your family would be happy to get you back reasonably intact."

Her smile widened, and she twirled the knife slightly in her hand. She was daring him to try something.

Aytin just continued to keep his mouth shut, staring off into the distance.

A minute passed and then Xantha grinned. "Good talk, kid. You make sure to let Nyx know if you need anything, and I'll see you in the morning." She waved a cheery goodbye as she walked off with her remaining companion.

Slowly, Aytin let himself slide back down. His already abused back and wings screamed in protest, but he didn't notice. He just sat, numb and unmoving.

He didn't even notice when Nyx slunk back over until she prodded him with her foot.

"Here," she snapped, thrusting a handful of strips of dried meat at him.

He looked up to the offered jerky and then at the bandit. "Do you expect me to eat out of your hand?" The words were utterly dead.

Nyx wasn't having any of it. "You can pick your dinner out of the dirt with your teeth if your lordship would prefer."

Aytin thought about refusing. But he just couldn't see a point. Snaking his neck forward, the young dragonette opened his mouth.

"I feel teeth, you're gonna feel a rock to the head," Nyx warned. She hefted a fist sized chunk of stone for emphasis, then extended a strip of meat.

It was about the toughest, nastiest piece of jerky ever made. Rawhide toys for kids had more flavor and were easier to chew. Whoever prepared it had never bothered to trim the fat and gristle.

Still, Aytin forced it down, along with the next piece and the one after that. Then he took a swig from the offered water skin. It was warm and brackish, but otherwise tasted clean enough. He drank greedily, his throat still parched from the sleeping drug.

When he was done with his meal, his captor hauled him up and walked him behind a stone wall so he could relieve himself. With his arms tied behind his back, it was awkward and embarrassing, but he managed.

It did give him a chance for a better look around his prison, or what little was visible in the fading light. They were in the shell of what once looked to have been a small keep or frontier outpost.

That must have been a long time ago, however. A few scattered beams were all that remained of the interior timber framing. When that had given way, the floors they supported had followed. The ground was littered with the rotten remains of planking, and Aytin could see clear up to the emerging stars in most places.

All that was left standing of the once proud keep were the four exterior stone walls, and time hadn't exactly been kind to them. A big chunk of one was missing. Through the gap, the sky faded from purple to gray.

Nyx left him staring across the rubble-strewn floor and towards that patch of sky while she went back to join her comrades by the fire.

There were a number of them lounging there, males and females. A full crew, around twenty all told. They looked even rougher than the mercenary companies that occasionally visited Luffin Keep looking for work.

A few cast glances his way. Some were curious. More were smug, or something darker. One or two actually had a note of pity.

Aytin had thought that they were going to leave him alone for the night, but he had been mistaken. Nyx returned after just a few minutes, a bucket in hand and a malicious expression on her muzzle.

"We can't have you getting up to anything tonight, now can we?" That was his only warning before she doused him with water that felt cold enough to have come straight from the hellish ocean below.

The effects of the soaking were immediate. As Nyx walked away laughing, Aytin could feel the chill seeping into him. His wet clothes and the bite of the early autumn night quickly conspired to sap the heat right out of him.

Nearby, the fire crackled. Its sight and sound taunted him. The smell of woodsmoke reached Aytin, but none of the warmth.

Dragonettes were cold blooded. Soon it would take a supreme effort of will just to stay conscious. Being unable to move just made that worse.

He coughed, softly. The cough turned into a choked sob.

Then the tears began.