I walk out into the sunlight before the temperate plateau hidden in the depths of these mountains, squinting as the light burns into my retinas. The men and women dressed in mere rags but seemingly uncaring stand in a semi-circle around the doorway. Most seemed to mill about talking, but they turn my way when I exit.

A loud battle cry erupts from Flash, making me jump. Then the foot stomping begins, mixed with whistles and more battle calls. It pounds against my sensitive ears, making me wince.

I appreciate She-Dragon at my back, a looming support I didn't realize I needed. The small crowd seems to hail me as some conquering hero. If they only knew. I’m the Anti-Hero at best—Villain at worst.

“Roland, this is my brother, Brendan,” the Imperium says, gesturing to the tall, broad man with the amber beard from earlier.

I shake his outstretched arm. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir,” he says, pumping my hand with gusto.

“Please, it’s just Roland. I am thankful to see you and yours alive and well.”

“Thank you, sir... Roland.”

I nod, as I can’t think of anything else to say. My mind is fogging over in exhaustion. The weakness of my limbs is frightening, yet I can hide the trembling... mostly. The Imperium and his son trade glances. I suppose I don't hide it enough to pass the eyes of these curious cats.

“Why aren’t you healing?” the Imperial asks the question lacing my own mind.

I run my hand through my hair, then realize I left a streak of dried blood behind. Grand. “I don’t know,” I say, the words bitten out through clenched teeth.

The silence is unnerving. The Imperial's eyebrows lower and his hand twitches, as if he wants to reach for my shoulder. “Until you are fully healed, don’t fight."

That makes me bristle, perhaps more than I should. I see the worry in his domineering command, but I won't let another control me. Not again. I draw my shoulders back and take as deep a breath as my lungs will allow. “I will fight for those who cannot fight for themselves until my last breath leaves me,” my whispering words are as hard as steel and will allow no leniency.

He shakes his head and lowers his voice. I then realize the whole plateau has gone quiet. Most are watching us with curious gazes. “Allfather have mercy on stubborn souls," he mutters under his breath. He meets my gaze, frank honesty within. "You can help many more when you are able to heal. Until then, we risk losing the only one who can overthrow your cousin.” His words are soft, reasoning. But there is a restrained exasperation within, and the scent of a wild mixture of grainy annoyance and eucalyptus concern... I almost sense he wants to throttle me for my stubbornness.

He doesn't understand why I balked... but I won't tell him it's because of fear.

Stubborn Shifter is right, Cynic mutters.

I turn to the dragon, who watches me with an unblinking gaze of vast knowledge and wisdom. I turn my back on the crowd and walk to her shoulder. Gasps sound from behind me, along with a small cry.

I turn my head to see all looking at my back of crisscrossing scars and burns with shock.

“Can I get a shirt?” I ask the Imperial, perhaps with a bit more bite than needed.

He meets my eyes with a straightforwardness few dare. “You don’t need one. What they see is what you have overcome to be here today. Your courage is commendable; as is your foolishness.”

I shake my head, but my lips quirk despite myself.

Brendan clasps me gently on the shoulder, his eyebrows lifting like his brothers at the flinch I cannot hide. “You are a warrior, Vistrue Imperium. Every scar is earned.”

I nod to them both, and they take their leave to mingle with those they thought to never see again. They jostle and shove with a brotherly love between pack mates—or in this case, pride mates.

Is that a thing? Cynic snidely says.

Shut up.

The Werecats mingle, throwing together fires and strapping hides over makeshift frames to make drums. They share tales by the fire and booming laughter is abundant. Drums resound and some tales are told through song. It's a celebration of freedom and a tribute to those lost before the dragon was slain.

I manage to avoid Flash dragging me into being social as he tries to get the attention of his little red-headed Were. It makes me happy she came along. She distracts Flash so he can't drag me into uncomfortable situations. Apparently, he thinks I need to be socialized.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I don't.

I revel in the peace of being alone with the dragon at my back, watching these rugged folks celebrate with song, dance, and a fermented drink that smells of sweet sap. They refused to give up, carving out a life in these mountains for months. They deserve this.

They remind me of my human family's Naming Day Celebrations, and my pack in my home country long before that. A slight smile quarks my lips despite the pain in my heart of memories both beautiful and bitter.

Flash brings me out of my reverie as he plops beside me with jerky and a sweet fruit roasted over the fire. The fruit has a comparable scent of peace and wildness as the valley, leading me to believe it grew here.

I stare at him for a moment.

"What?" he mumbles around a bite of fruit currently making my stomach attempt to eat itself. Some of the juice dribbles down his chin to drop on his dirt and blood-stained shirt.

I shake my head, not understanding this cat and why he chose to be my friend. He offers me a piece of jerky as a peace offering.

Alright, fine. He might not be so bad.

The Were break into groups to gather and eat their own shares of dinner, but many cast awe-inspired glances at me and the dragon.

“What’d I do?” I ask Flash around a mouthful of jerky.

I ease myself down to sit with my back against She-Dragon. She sniffs my hair before settling down behind me. She again sends an image of sleep and resting.

I pat her shoulder, telling her I’m alright for a few more moments. Even if my ribs rattle with every breath and the entirety of my body suffers like it took a beating from ten master assassins.

She snorts, blowing snot on me. I glare at her; she just chortles in my face.

Dragons, says a wry voice within. For once, Cynic and I are in total agreement.

Flash about chokes. I watch him in confusion. “What’d you do? What’d you DO?” he says, almost yelling. I stifle the urge to shush him as eyes turn our way. He shakes his head at me. “You tamed a dragon. You lunged at a big ugly male like something out of legend. You saved all our hides with your quick thinking and foolhardy ways. And you ask that?” He looks me up and down with narrowed eyes. “You look like something that came out of the hind end of a Berserk, ya know.”

I look down at my bare chest. Exhaustion pulls at me; my chest is covered in blood; the gash from the monster runs all the way from my shoulder to the end of my ribs. It’s not deep, but the shift caused it to reopen.

I sigh. I forgot about that. And that I’m apparently still not healing as I should—as the Imperial so helpfully pointed out earlier.

Flash pulls out a wide array of bandages and healing salves. I groan. Movement draws my eye to the rest of the pride, and I find we have once again drawn many eyes. Most try to be discreet and not outright stare.

I force down a heat on my cheeks. They’re not doing any favors to an assassin meant to hide in plain sight and with Shifter instinct to hide weakness. Not to mention the human part that's... shy. Don't tell anyone. I'll kill you.

You can't. I am you.

I could break your dagger.

Don't! Cynic says, panicked. But then he feels my humor. That was a dastardly joke.

My face may stay straight, but I do indeed hide a smirk.

A shadow casts the setting sun into darkness and I look up to find She-Dragon watching me with knowing eyes. Her wing continues to drape over us before it drops into the dirt, effectively giving me and Flash the privacy of a tent. I pat her shoulder in gratitude. She sticks her head under her wing like a bird to ruffle my hair with her breath. She settles her head on the ground to watch.

“This will be easier if you lie back,” Flash says, watching me as if I'm going to croak.

I try to lie back, but my breath catches as my ribs pull. I only make it a couple inches before I immediately sit back up and cradle them until I can breathe without the pain causing my head to spin.

She-Dragon coos softly.

“Easy, Roland. Gotcha better than you let on, aye?” I look up and meet Flash’s eyes. There is not pity nor awe there. Only the respect of one animal shifter to another.

I let out a breathy chuckle that turns into a cough. “You could say that.”

“Let me help. I promise to keep your weakness under wraps from Aunt Bridge and Morgana. Otherwise, they wouldn’t let you out of their sight for a year. Or maybe a lifetime.” He winks and I have to stifle a snicker.

“Those two are worse than twenty nursemaids,” I say under my breath.

He rolls his eyes as he helps me lie back with ease. “Man, auntie for sure. Once I broke my arm climbing stairs.” I chuckle. He glares, a tinge of pink on his cheeks. “Hey, they were steep stairs for a twelve-year-old,” he says, indignant.

“I just thought Were were, well, fiercer."

“Says the one lying like an invalid.” He pokes my shoulder. Currently the only place not covered in bruises. “Anyway, after that, I swear Aunt Bridge followed me for a season making sure I climbed no stairs, not even up to the privy. I had to hide behind trees. Talk about humiliating.”

I hide a wince as he tugs the first stitch through. “Is that necessary?”

“Yes. Don’t question your healer.”

“Are you even old enough to be a healer?” I ask.

He shrugs as he continues stitching with a practiced hand. “Sure. If you count the practice I had on myself growing up. Some of us don’t run to healers after getting a scratch.”

I chuckle. “Stop. It hurts!” I wheeze.

“Oh, finally. The mighty dragon slayer and assassin prince of infamy admits pain. What a day to go down in history!” His sarcasm has me barking out another laugh.

“Stop it, you crazy Werecat. I might have to bite you.” I pause, watching him when his hands pause. “Would you run?” I ask, honestly curious.

He snorts. “With you looking like this? No way. Now, if you glared at me as you did that dragon, I’d be racing for the hills. That was one more of a sight, kino.”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, more out of habit than any real consternation. “I was scared to death.” The admittance leaves my mouth without a forethought, but I can’t seem to want to take it back. Flash has a knack for making me feel comfortable.

He freezes for a split second, surprised by my words, before going back to the stitches. “I had no idea. Honestly, I half expected you to grow wings and throw fire yourself.”

“If only.” I pat the nose of the dragon head lying beside me. “That was her mate.”