Mildred had become my de facto caretaker as she placed another cool wet cloth on my forehead. The weakness in my body was slowly fading as they gave me less and less of the powerful medication that warped my mind. I found myself missing the highs and I regretted that had formed in my mind so quickly through the few days they had me resting. I needed to see if I could delve into my own mind with magic and turn the experience of the medicine as something unpleasant enough for me to ignore the desire for it. I’d never tried such a thing so it would be uncharted territory. However I was too tired for that amount of focus and found sleep pulling me down.

I was watching with worry as the crippled man who had taken my gifts limped into wilds leaning heavily on the spear. He wanted to earn me in some way and I worried that instead he was marching to his death. Part of me wanted to charge after him and help him with the hunt but it would defeat the purpose of the ritual I was taking part in. I kept my eyes on him as he walked into the horizon. The sun was setting by the time I walked away. One hand clutched to my chest with worry.

Everyone was feasting and enjoying each other. I took my portion of the food and ate it with my fingers. Licking off the grease that coated my fingers as I watched everyone else. Several of them started to beg me to start telling a story. I manifested a wing to be my canvas and started to tell them of my sister Crafter. Her work with the elves of the far lands. I made an image of them appear flying across my wing.

The people gasped as I told them of the birth of Klaxu and how it shook the earth. A walking mountain of pain and anger. A being starved for others to believe in them. That even the gods desire the recognition of others. I kept the story of Crafter’s corruption to myself not wanting to send the fear of dragons into their minds. I told them of the Slumber that takes dragons after we expend so much of ourselves in service of mankind.

Soon the night was getting late and I returned my wing back into my human form. I watched as men and women embraced one another and started to kiss and I could smell the passion that filled the air. I felt so alone as I couldn’t help but hear the sounds of people embracing one another in a way I had yet to experience. Jealousy and curiosity burned in my chest as I looked out into the distance where the crippled man had left. No sleep would take me while I worried and I started to make baskets.

Days passed as I continued to learn how to make things. After they were satisfied with my basket making they taught me how to craft clay jugs that once dried were put into the fire to bake and harden. My unskilled hands kept crumpling the clay and I would have to start back over from the lump it turned into. Frustration boiled in me as I attempted over and over again to make a jug for water. The other women snickered and laughed as I grew angry. I hugged my knees to my chest, smearing wet clay on my legs as I grumbled to myself.

One the third day of trying I managed to make a jug for water. It was crude compared to the smooth work of some of the others but functioned just fine. I had yet to sleep and reverted part of my body to that of a dragon so I could stave off the exhaustion. The nerves of waiting for the man to return filled me.

The men all worked on spears as the meat that they had harvested slowly disappeared over the days. Fat was harvested and made into a thick hardy food that wouldn’t spoil. They hadn’t named it yet, it was just what was made when food had to be rationed over time before the men would go and hunt once more. As they prepared I grew disheartened and assumed the crippled man who had wanted to earn my attention may be dead out there. I wished I had taken the time to know his name.

I went to the other women and sat with them. I listened to them boast about the men that had earned them and their gifts. I listened as they tried to one up one another about whose man was the best of the tribe. I cleared my throat, “What was that man’s name? The one that took my gifts and left to prove himself?” I held my knees to my chest as I rested my chin on my knees.

The women looked at one another. The one who had mentored me most spoke up, “That was Sky Gazer. He got crippled when he was a boy. He hasn’t been seen as useful in hunting but he was very wise.”

“Was?” I asked, maybe they knew better than me on if he survived.

“No one is gone that long from the tribe and returned. He probably is dead, mauled by some beast or fallen into a crevice. I don’t think he will return. You can try to make gifts for another man.” She rubbed my back lightly as I gazed into the fire and the hardening pots.

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I leaned into the touch, relishing the non-reverent attention from her. I longed to be accepted as just one of them and it seemed my constant failing at what they saw was basic had done some of that. She wrapped one arm around my shoulders and just held me. “You all have to teach me something new. Maybe more gifts will win a man over.”

They nodded and soon they brought me back to the obsidian glass. Soon the instructions on how to shape a proper knife. A man needed a knife, needed shoes, there was so much I didn’t know. Shaping the knife was much like making a spearhead but it took much longer. My first one broke under one poor blow too close to the center of it and shattered it beneath the rock. It clattered down beneath my legs. The hardened scales I had shaped on my legs for protection, not letting the shards get a grip.

Growling beneath my breath I grabbed another glass stone and broke free a new core to shape. Slowly, I tried to be much more careful and focused tightly. With slow care the sun slid across the sky as I worked. They had instructed me to keep a hand size width at the base dull. Soon I moved from the shaping stone to the antler for much more controlled movement. The sun set as I worked and everyone went to bed. I let my eyes revert so I could see in the darkness and continued.

The morning came and the village got busy as I picked up my third core. The second knife had failed its testing and the edge broke easily. They hadn’t instructed me to sharpen them like the spear head and I wondered if that was just assumed to be the thing to do. Sighing to myself the third knife was ready for sharpening by midday. I moved to the stone as I felt the eyes of the others on me. Just as I was beginning one of them stopped me.

“The way the knife is shaped lets it saw through flesh better. It doesn’t need to pierce the way a spear does. You can leave it like that.” She stilled my arm with a hand and I furrowed my brow in frustration.

“The last one I did like this broke when I tested it.” I held the knife by the blunt end and looked at it like it betrayed me.

“How did you test it? I don’t see strips of leather.” She questioned.

“Leather? I tested it on wood and the edge disappeared immediately.” I looked at her with confusion on my face.

“Spears have to be tougher, that's why we test them on living animals or the soft trees. Knives are good for meat, leather, and tendons. That's what you test knives on.” Her voice was soft and not condescending in the least.

I looked at the knife and knew then that I had wasted my second attempt. I moved to some of the extra hides that had been prepared and began to test it properly. It cut through the leather easily with one firm stroke of the knife.

“See, that is how it is done. Your knife only needs a handle, just wrap some plain leather around it and make sure it’s secure. I’ll show you.” She said as I cut a long strip.

She showed me slowly at how she shaped a handle and I followed along as best as I could. I furrowed my brow heavily as I worked. My focus was as sharp as the blade. The first four attempts didn’t hold properly as the women went about their work. On the fifth it seemed to take and I held it triumphantly. I’d need a new basket and spear for my next gift.

Next was time to make feet coverings properly. They showed me how to shape the furs properly to wrap around a foot right. The bone needles we had used came back for these. The sewing much like the way I had made the fur cloak. It took days for me to get that right as well. I was starting to feel the exhaustion as the people began whispering of my dedication to learning. Saying that failure didn’t phase me like it phased others. Soon though I had my own fur lined feet coverings.

I wiggled them proudly, thoughts of Sky Gazer having been pushed to the back of my mind in my quest to learn how to be one of the tribe women. Food was running low and I was tempted to transform into a full dragon and hunt for them.

But then he came back. Sky Gazer hobbled in the distance, no one noticed him at first. I was busily weaving a new basket, my back to the way he was coming. Until someone shook my leg, I looked where they pointed and saw the limping form. “A hunter is back but they look hurt. Why is there only one?”

The women began speculating with one another and the thoughts were that the lone hunter had become injured and was being sent back to the village. Hope soared in my chest. That limp was familiar and soon I was running across the ground. My heart pounded at the thought that he had succeeded. That he had come back to me after so long away. Behind him was a litter with a boar and three piglets on it. He limped so heavily that moving would take him quite a while to get anywhere.

He was skinny, wasted away as he nearly collapsed against me when I got to him and embraced him. Thick clotted wounds were on his back and his arms and legs were covered in scratches where he didn’t have hide clothes to cover them. I held him as sympathetic pain filled me. His shoes were worn down and looked ready to fall apart. I felt him push me off as he picked up the litter. “Almost there.” He started to limp forwards and when I moved to help his gaze stopped me. Pride was in his eyes as he struggled towards the village. I kept walking alongside him.

He had come back. He had wanted to earn me. I felt myself fill with pride for another as I watched him carry the boar and piglets back. I slowed as he moved watching his back. It seemed much wider than it had been. His limp was less pronounced. Soon he was back in the village and the women looked wide eyed at him. Just as his legs gave way I was there to catch him.

I pulled him to a shelter that had been empty as the women worked on the carcasses. I laid him down gently on his stomach and looked at his back wounds. So I started to heal him. My heart soared, he must have gone through a lot to come back. To do something so fantastic while having been a cripple all his life made me happy he had chosen to try for me. He would be littered in scars but I would cherish every one of them. Soon, all that lack of sleep caught up to me. The use of my magic to make sure he wouldn’t die in my sleep I laid down next to him and touched his limp face. He was far paler than I would like and I could only hope he would recover.