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The forest was filled with its typical, peaceful chorus. A lovely howl of slight wind moved through the pine boughs and the chirping of distant birdsong provided a nice lilt. Dry pine needles and soil masked my scent, and the muddy brown of my fur provided plenty of camouflage where I lay, belly down against the forest floor. There was nothing to indicate I was even present, save for a vague outline of my bow laid parallel to the ground and the trio of arrows I had in hand. Ahead, not quite twenty paces away was my trap: a simple snare like those I had spread throughout the area, but this time baited with a freshly caught rabbit.

Someone had been poaching my kills, taking nearly all of them for the last month. It could be argued that I was technically poaching myself, living on land owned by the crown. This deep into the back woods though, that crown held little authority, and I had no company to complain. At least, not until now. At first I had thought it was a large predator that had moved into the area. Mountain lions and bears were common enough here and even griffons occasionally came down from the mountains to hunt if things got slim. That assumption didn't last long. There was no new spoor in the area, and the traps were not shredded or even damaged. Someone with experience in knot-work had simply undone them and left them in place, taking my catch.

I had shrugged off the irritation at first, and thought of it simply helping a fellow hermit on their way, but now winter was coming, and I had brought in barely half my normal stores. If this kept up, the poacher would kill me through circumstance. So it was with a grim determination that I held my bow level and worked to keep my breathing smooth and silent, hoping to catch wind of anything before it approached.

An hour passed, maybe two; it was hard to judge time with the sky partially overcast. Finally my patience paid off. A faint tickle started in my nose as it registered something in the air. I tried to categorize the odor. It didn't take long; wood smoke and the astringency of vegetable tannins were aromas that might follow any hunter, but layered faintly under those scents was the unmistakable scent of me. I felt my hackles rise and had to stifle an angry growl. They had been in my home, probably ransacking my foodstuffs. The reluctance I felt evaporated in a haze of grim anger, and I silently nocked an arrow.

Somewhere in the distance I heard the echoing crack of wood breaking, and I swiveled my ears in a vain attempt to locate it. I knew that the trees would scatter the sound into uselessness at any great distance, but that didn't stop me from trying. As tightly wound as I was, it was no surprise I nearly jumped out of my hide when something came crashing through the trees directly to my rear. My heart in my throat, I rolled into a crouch, drawing my bow and whirling in place- all only to stare dumbly at an empty wooden box that was still rocking back and forth. My wooden box. The pale boards of white pine came from the same stand of trees I had built my home with. A distraction.

Realization made me turn toward my trap again, too late. The rabbit and snare were gone, the severed cord swinging in the breeze. I bolted to the area, thinking to give chase. Two thoughts struck me as I did this. The first was that I had no idea where the poacher has gone. There was no scent, sound, or track on the ground. A moment later the second thought struck: no natural creature could move with that combination of stealth and speed. That made the possible list of culprits much smaller and more sinister. Things like sorcerers, elves, and fey came to mind. I shuddered at the thought of dealing with a fey again. It had taken months for the fur on my tail to grow back in its natural color.

"You wouldn't really shoot someone over a rabbit now would you?" The snickering question reverberated through the forest, making it impossible to tell the speaker's direction. The mocking tone raised my ire though, and before I could reign in my temper I exploded.

"You're damn right I would! You've taken all of my food; either I kill you or I die by starvation!" Perhaps not my smartest idea, spitting death threats at an entity of unknown power and ability, but bull- headedness ran in the family. My tirade was met with silence; even the birds had stopped chirping nearby. My irritation slowly built as I waited for my antagonist to make his next move.

"I'm sorry." The reply sounded so nearby that I could swear I felt breath on my neck. For the third time I wheeled frantically, seeking a target. Of course there wasn't anything there. In fact, the sudden and profound feeling of absence made me suspect the poacher had used that supernatural speed to take its leave. Suspicion was confirmed as the ongoing breeze cleared the area of the pilfered smell. Only after the air cleared did my temper do the same. I lowered my bow slowly, letting the tension drain from the stretched limbs. It took an immense amount of anger and emotion to want to kill someone. When that emotion fled it took my strength with it. I shook violently and my knees went watery. I had to lean back against a tree, my tail curling up between my legs while I tried to collect myself.

Eventually the fit of weakness passed. I unstrung the bow, put my arrows back in the quiver, and started the trek home. I had taken the trouble to set my trap far from my house, to make myself more difficult to track. The trip gave me plenty of time to consider my options. They weren't actually all that varied: I didn't have a chance against any of the fey, and a sorcerer was even more dangerous. They best I could hope for was one of the elven kind, and even that was a risk I didn't want to take. My only reasonable option was to leave. I had time until first snow fall; if I gathered all my supplies, assuming they hadn't been pilfered, I would have enough time and food to make it to the nearest town. I could lay low long enough to last the season and strike out in a different direction. It wasn't a great solution, but at least I would be alive, which seemed to be the best that I'd managed the last few years.

I felt something like relief when I finally made it home. My cabin wasn't much to look at, just a single long room with a chimney at one end, but it was comfortable, and until recently it had been a good sanctuary. The thought suddenly occurred to me that the poacher might have returned ahead of me, and I drew my short blade as I nudged open the door. They had returned all right, though not lay an ambush. Instead, the rabbit that I had recently lost was now laying perfectly cleaned and dressed on my lone table. More surprising than this was the whole month of lost meat hanging in smoked strips from the beams of my ceiling.

My salvation dangled idly as I felt my jaw drop. Not only had the entirety of my stolen food been returned, but I had been saved the days of work required to preserve it for the winter. More than a sliver of guilt prodded at me as I realized perhaps the 'poacher' wasn't as hostile as I had thought. Fey creatures were notoriously mischievous after all. Perhaps they'd just wanted some attention. Regardless, it was too late to do anything about it now. With a sigh I hung my bow and quiver on its customary peg and went about taking down the offering of food. It didn't take long; even a month worth of smoked meat only amounted to a couple armfuls. The regretful sentiment it had uttered echoed in my head, and I was deeply grateful that I hadn't gotten a shot at it. I don't think I could have lived with making that kind of mistake again. The encounter stayed with me long after I'd banked the fire and turned in for the night.

-

Days passed, and there was no sign of the stranger. The weather turned steadily colder as fall bowed out and winter entered the stage. The first snow came earlier than expected, falling during the night and misting the landscape in a haze of white. I intended to take advantage of the occasion; the snow would make tracking easier if there was anything around and would make deer and elk stand out in the pale backdrop. It was too cold now to depend on my own fur to keep me warm, and so I wore a simple set of hunting leathers lined with rabbit fur.

My cabin was built on a little spur on the edge of a plateau. It was hard to spot from any distance, and the half mile approaching it was so rugged that it was nearly impossible to get to, save for a clandestine path that I blazed during the construction. It was my lucky day; it wasn't even mid-morning when I spotted fresh tracks, glaring out of the snow like a beacon. I stalked the tracks, moving so that I was downwind of the path they were taking. The small herd was moving slow, grazing as they went, making it a simple task to close the distance. An hour after picking up the tracks I caught the first scent of them. There was too much tree cover to see them, but if I paused for a moment and listened carefully, I could just barely hear the soft squealing as they crushed the powder under foot. I move past them until their scent started to fade again and I was ahead of them. I didn't have the material to make a good blind, so I crouched down into as small a target as possible behind a thick knot of pine trees. I only drew a single arrow this time; a miss would alert them and there would be no second shot.

Hunting, despite my skill at it, was a task I didn't particularly like. The deer that came tentatively through the trees were beautiful animals living peaceful lives. Hiding in the distance with a bow felt like a cowardly way to end that peace, but we all did what was necessary to survive. At least I could try and minimize my impact on the group. Scanning the small herd, I quickly singled one of the slower, smaller males in the rear of the group, one more likely to succumb to other predation. I inhaled slowly, drawing my bow as I did so. The herd stopped at the creak of the wooden limbs, and there was an instant where they were all perfectly still. In that instant I released.

There was a momentary flurry of motion, and suddenly the forest was empty, save for the sad, still form of my quarry. Long practice and necessity had made me deadly accurate, and the shot was as mercifully clean as I could make it. The deer got a few stumbling steps before collapsing, and I rushed forward to finish the task before it could suffer long.

It was safer to dress the deer there, rather than back at my cabin where the mess might attract predators. A brief envy washed over me, of those species that could survive on plants alone; the feeling of blood clotting in the fur of my hands was sickening. Finally the task was done. "Thanks", I said aloud to the animal. It would add enough meat to my stockpile to ensure my survival this winter. I cleaned off my knife and hands in the snow, then as an afterthought shook out a couple laden branches to cover up the ugly scarlet stain in the otherwise pristine landscape.

First snows offered certain boons to a hunter, but they didn't come without risks.

The path back to my cabin was treacherous in the best of times. When the terrain was masked in white and I was trying to balance a hundred extra pounds across my shoulders, it was downright dangerous. More than once I had slipped on the journey. Previously this had only resulted in bumps and bruises, but such wasn't my luck today. The cold was starting to nip at my feet through my thick pads and fur. I was in a hurry, my mind more on relaxing in front of a fire than on the route ahead of me. My very first step onto the narrow, rocky path dislodged a loose stone. I wind milled my arms uselessly while I tried to recover, but the snow provided no traction.

That terrible gut-clenching feeling of falling struck me as I went tumbling down the steep hillside. Distantly, I heard the clatter of my quiver of arrows and bow bouncing over the ground, but more pressing was the feeling of the deer's carcass leaving my shoulders in its own trajectory. A regretful shout formed on my lips, but was cut short by my reintroduction with the ground. There was the expected dull thump of impact, but that was overwhelmed by a shot of red-hot agony in my right leg. Howling in pain and surprise, I blinked tears from my eyes and tried to discern the source of my torment. I was sitting at the bottom of a snow covered slope, crumpled against the rocks, and one of my own arrows jutted out of the flesh of my thigh, just above the knee.

It seemed like forever that I sat and stared dumbly at the gory sight, as blood oozed freely out around the wooden shaft. By the time sense returned to me there was a decent sized pool of angry red snow around the wound. Frantically, I undid the leather belt that held my now-empty quiver, cinching it around my leg in a crude tourniquet. I tried to stand on my good leg so that I could attempt to make it back up the hill, but even the slightest motions set pain burning through my veins. I had only managed to roll onto my belly and claw a few inches before I was panting and whimpering. My tourniquet must not have been tight enough, blood was still leaking steadily from my leg and I was growing cold alarmingly quickly.

I had hunted long enough to realize that I was bleeding out, and there wasn't anything I could do about it. Only a few minutes had passed, but my heart raced madly to pump blood that wasn't there and my thoughts grew scattered. I wondered momentarily if anyone would find my body here, face down on the hillside, or if I would just be another poor soul that disappeared into the deep woods. The question was immediately proven to be moot. A bone-chilling flurry of air sent of a cloud of snow over me, and a moment later there was a crunch of impact powerful enough to shake my teeth. I looked back over my shoulder to the source of the sound. At first it seemed nothing was there, just a white sheet of snow lay at my back; then a section of the snow moved, and I could see the outline of an approaching figure.

"Huh, a dragon." It seemed like as good a time as any to pass out.

_

My slumber was haunted by the most bizarre dreams. On some occasions I dreamt I was clinging to a cliff that stretched endlessly above me, while a blizzard stole the warmth from me, leaving me shivering violently. Other times I walked through a blistering desert, panting raggedly to try and cool myself, wishing desperately that I had something to slake my thirst. Strangest of all however, were the dreams haunted by the ghostly angel. In these dreams, I was nestled deep in a comfortable bed, the air smelling of spiced wine and stew, while the blurred outline of a strikingly pale figured hovered over me protectively. I felt almost at peace.

Eventually, I did wake from this slumber. There was no angel; the room was black as night, and the only thing that reached my nose was the scent of illness and blood. I groaned feebly as the throbbing in my leg intruded rudely, adding a terrible accompaniment to the general soreness of my body.

"Are you awake?" I twitched in surprise at the question from very near to my left.

The voice was soft, tentative even, and strangely familiar. It took me a moment to place it in my confusion; eventually I attached it to the poacher I had intended to put an arrow or three into. I was tempted to not answer. Ideas of escape flitted through my head. Just as quickly, I dismissed those ideas as ludicrous. I could barely move, let alone make good on plans of evasion. Beyond that, this person had obviously made a heroic effort to keep me alive.

"Yes. I'm awake." I croaked, belatedly.

There was an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. When you took fever I thought you might not wake up at all. It was touch and go there for the first week."

"Week?"

My caretaker seemed to get the unspoken question in my query. "It's been sixteen days since I picked you out of the snow. It's a good thing I was watching."

Reconstructing the event in question took a moment in my state of confusion. Hunting the deer, then going home, falling, impaling my leg, seeing a dragon. Oh, the dragon. Right. I swallowed in nervousness and again contemplated making a run for it. Some years previously, I'd had opportunity to discuss dragons with a friendly sorcerer. He had explained that dragons never consciously focused on using magic, as it would be superfluous to them. Dragons were supernatural in the same way that water was wet. They simply desired something to happen and reality rearranged itself to fit that desire. It was quite likely that I was alive not through any great effort on their part, or constitution on my part, but rather simply because the dragon wanted me to be. They were also supposed to be as fickle as any fey, with an aptitude for destruction.

"So, what's your name?"

To anyone else I would have given one of my many aliases, but that just seemed ridiculous at this point, so I answered truthfully. "Leigh."

"That's a nice name. Mine is Inniri. It's good to meet you. Well, I suppose we already met, but that wasn't under the best circumstances. Then again, these aren't really the best circumstances either. We really need to find a better way to meet, preferably one that doesn't involve arrows, because between you pointing them at me and getting stabbed with one yourself, it seems like arrows are really bad for our continuing friendship. Maybe when you're better again we can-"

"Inniri." I had to interrupt, it seemed like the creature would never run out of breath.

"Yes?" It didn't miss a beat.

"Could you light a candle or something please? I can't see."

"Oh of course! I'm sorry. I've never really been around one of your species before, so I don't really know how well you can see, or I would have kept a fire going. Of course that might have made it too hot in here. It is already pretty warm in here. Maybe I could have just kept a lantern lit. I don't have a lantern, but you do, I remember seeing it in your house, I could have gotten it before I brought you here. Then, maybe it's better that I didn't stop; you had lost a lot of blood when I got you here as it was. Maybe if I stopped you would have died. That is kind of a horrible thought, I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Light please?" I gritted my teeth, trying to be patient. The dragon had saved my life after all.

"Oh yes, let me get that." A covering that I had taken for blankets lifted from me as I heard the dragon begin moving, the bedding shifting under its weight. Inniri made a sound like a cough, and a flick of brilliant fire darted across the room, striking something and instantly igniting it. After so long in darkness, I had to shade my eyes until they were accustomed to the dim illumination. For the first time I was able to view my rescuer.

It was a dragon; that much was for sure. Plain white scales shimmered slightly with orange reflections from the fire as the dragon practically danced around the room, moving remarkably gracefully for something as large as a draft horse. "I'm sorry about the mess, I really intended to clean up before you awoke, but I forgot." It shrugged its wings sheepishly, as though I had scolded it. As the creature began to prattle on again, using its long tail to sweep up old bandages and detritus into a pile, I took the opportunity to take in my surroundings.

I was lying naked in a luxuriously stuffed but otherwise bare mattress. My injured leg was wrapped loosely in linen bandages, braced with some sort of rod to keep it from bending. The room was immense, wider than my whole cabin and three times as long. Tapestries and thick weaves of cloth mostly covered the carved stone blocks of the walls. At this end of the hall was an enormous hearth, which was currently crackling happily with a growing flame. At the other end was a large double door, barred from this side. It looked like a feast hall from a keep of some sort.

"So that's why I had to take that deer. I hope you don't mind."

I blinked as Inniri's voice fell silent at the end of some explanation I had missed. The dragon was looking at me expectantly. "Um, no. That's fine. Thanks for saving my life, and sorry for trying to shoot you." I wasn't really sure what else I could say to apologize for my lethal intent; no one had ever accused me of being eloquent.

"Oh that was no problem. It's not like the arrow would have done anything anyhow. It was more the insult of it than anything, but it was mostly my fault for stealing your food. I didn't realize that you needed it all, and I was just having some fun."

I flicked my ears as the flood of words began anew. I studied the very unusual and very loquacious savior. Placing a gender on the dragon was difficult; the voice was androgynous, strangely dainty sounding for something that seemed like it should speak in a booming baritone, but lacking the pitch and qualities I usually associated with women. I certainly wasn't about to ask it to lift a leg so I could check. Still, it seemed rude to keep referring to Inniri as 'it' in my mind, so I labeled her female, for convenience if nothing else. The name Inniri sounded female anyhow. She settled back on the mattress disturbingly close and spread one wing over me like a blanket. I admitted to myself that maybe calling Inniri female was as much for my peace of mind as anything else.

"What is this place?" I tried to distract myself from the troubling proximity of the dragon.

"An old keep I found. There was some sort of spell keeping it preserved, but I broke that when I came in."

"You're sure the owners aren't coming back?" What a mess that would be.

"It's not very likely. That tapestry over there is the sacking of the citadel at Grant's Pass by Shay, and that one is the construction of the Wall of Tambar."

I hadn't studied history since I was a pup. Neither of those events meant a thing to me. "And?" I prompted her to continue.

"Well this is obviously one of Shay's old border outposts, and they stopped maintaining those three centuries ago." Inniri finished, as though it was something that everyone knew.

"Oh. History isn't really my thing."

"What is your thing?"

I didn't really have an answer. How do you explain that for the last few years your 'thing' was hiding from society and trying to stay alive? "You don't have any blankets or sheets?" I changed the subject.

"Nope. There was only this bed left when I moved in, and I had to cut its sheets up for those bandages." She chirped cheerfully, oblivious to my evasion.

"Could you show me the rest of the keep?" I felt distinctly uncomfortable being coddled by a dragon, and I cast desperately about for some reason to be up and moving.

Concern became obvious on Inniri's face. "That's a bad idea. You are still in terrible shape, and I don't want you to get sick again. It's warm in here, but the rest of the castle is cold as ice. Besides, it's dark and I don't have a lantern, like I said. Maybe if you're looking better tomorrow I will give you the tour. Right now you need to try and rest and eat and get healthy. Actually, here."

The agile tip of her tail poked right into the blazing fire without a care. I hadn't seen the spit or the kettle hanging from it previously, but I now that I was paying attention I did pick up the smell of the delicious stew from my dreams. She tipped the steaming broth from the kettle into a heavy earthenware bowl. I'm still not sure how she managed to hold a bowl in her tail, but she seemed to have no problem doing so. "I don't have any pillows either I'm afraid, so just lean against me." I had always been uneasy about physical contact, but there were no overtones or duplicity in her voice; Inniri seemed to just be genuinely cheerful to offer her shoulder as a couch, and I had to admit it would make it much simpler to eat.

I'm not sure what the stew was spiced with, but the tender chunks of venison quickly explained the fate of my last kill. It was good it didn't go to waste. "It seemed like the pantry was the only thing they didn't clear out when they left. You wouldn't believe how much stuff was there. Whoever owned this castle must have been rich, because there are whole barrels of dried fruits and jars of herbs and a whole tub of salt."

Despite myself and the bizarre situation I found myself in, her merriness was somehow refreshing. I lapped gratefully from the bowl. The heated liquid was soothing on my tongue and throat, even more so in my stomach. "Thank you again Inniri."

She smiled in delight, her tail weaving little figure eights on the ground now. "Oh it was no problem. I'm actually really glad you're here. I mean, it's bad that you're hurt, but I haven't had anyone to talk to for a long time out in these woods, so I'm glad that at least I was there to save you. It's good to have a friend."

A friend. Those words hit home powerfully. It was an unusual though, being friends with a dragon, but in the last hour she had been a more decent person than anyone I'd left behind. I couldn't help but give myself an amused little chortle while I leaned back against her a little more comfortably now. Yes; it was very good to have a friend.

-

Time passed slowly in recovery. Even with Inniri's constant companionship to hold my attention, the days seemed to go on endlessly. I couldn't really say it was time spent unpleasantly though. Being around Inniri was like being around a talking library. Hardly an hour passed when she wasn't regaling me with a tale of times gone past. If she wasn't filling my head with legends and heroes, she was filling it with much more practical knowledge about any number of subjects. From caring for wounds, to foraging for healthier foodstuffs, she was a veritable encyclopedia, although it was a struggle to memorize these particular lessons among the flood of words that constantly emanated from her.

Generous application of both her medical expertise and the hearty stews she prepared had me back on my feet remarkably fast. Less than a week after I woke up my leg was free of any sign of infection. By the end of my first month there I was able to walk without a crutch. Actually aside from the aches in one leg, I felt better than I had in years. Warm food filled my belly, I bathed nearly daily at Inniri's insistence, and thanks to the equipment left behind by the long-absent owners of this castle I was dressed in heavy wool clothes again. I even found a brush that worked wonderfully to chew through the years of tangled fur. When I came across a mirror during a random exploration of the castle I couldn't help but marvel at the change.

Previously I had relied on buckets of still water to groom myself, and soap was non-existent. The result had been less than impressive. Where before my ribs had poked out like tent poles, now I was back to a healthy weight. Instead of mud-stained, ragged fur, my coat was back to a glossy chestnut brown. My eyes were no longer haunted by the strain of living on a near-starvation diet. For the first time in years, I felt civilized. It was strange to think that it was all due to a near-death rescue by a dragon.

Even more bizarre was how much it scared me that this whole thing was about to come to an end. It was obvious that I was well enough now to return home, so I wasn't really surprised when Inniri brought it up one morning.

"I suppose you're ready to go home now. Your leg is pretty well healed; I can't justify keeping you here anymore." We had just finished breakfast, and I was just getting ready to sit back down on the bed, expecting another series of stories.

I tried to convince myself that I was looking forward to getting back to my solitude, but it wasn't very effective. A single month with a chatty dragon had reminded me how much I missed having someone to talk to. But pride, damnable as it was, kept me from asking if I could stay.

"Uh yeah." I mumbled.

"If there's anything that you want to take along, feel free to grab it. You want to bundle up too; it's going to be a very cold flight." I really didn't want to take anything from her, but she insisted that I take the comb and mirror at least, "so you don't look like a drowned rat all the time", in her words. After some insistence I tucked the gifts tightly into my coat.

"Well, I guess that's it." The words came hard, I didn't want to actually indicate that I was ready to leave, but standing there stupidly didn't seem like an option. Before I knew it we were shuffling out the door into the painfully crisp air. Fog filled the air from Inniri's exhalations while I tried to will into existence some situation to keep me here. Despite my desire to remain in Inniri's company, I was not a magician, and so no twist of fate saved me. Instead, I quickly realized that being unconscious during my last flight was a mercy. From the moment that Inniri clutched my to her chest like a child, to the moment we touched down and she released me I clung to her in fear. Taking off felt like being shot from a cannon; my teeth clacked together from the force and the instant howl of wind in my ears was deafening. The duration of the journey was filled with a gut wrenching cycle of rise and drop with each wing beat. I'm not sure how long the flight lasted, but it was too long. By the time we landed I was shivering from a combination of cold and terror. Immediately I clawed my way from Inniri's grasp, collapsing gratefully into the snow.

"Well, I'm glad you're better. I hope you do alright here; I guess this is goodbye." The sudden terseness in Inniri's words wasn't lost on me. With her just moments away from leaving, I finally realized that perhaps she wanted me to stay as much as I did.

"Inniri wait!" Pride could burn for all I cared. I struggled to my feet in the deep snow piled up outside my cabin. The dragon froze, and slowly turned to face me. Her eyes were wide in her face with what I could only hope was anticipation. "I don't have anyone to talk to here. I'd like if we could stay together somehow." Sounding desperate or corny didn't matter to me anymore. I wanted someone keep company with, even if that someone was a dragon multiple times my size.

Inniri did a strange little jig in place, "Yes! Oh it does get very lonely in that place. I was hoping you would want to stay but you didn't say anything and I was starting to get worried. It's probably good that I brought you here though, because now you can get some personal supplies like your lantern and stuff so you can see at night. Oh and you probably want to get more arrows if you have them, since I didn't grab any that you dropped."

The sudden outflow of speech made me smile in relief. "I might need a day. Can't really come back on my own, so I need to pack up now."

"Oh yeah! That's okay. I'll just come back tomorrow as long as you are careful that you don't go out and get hurt again." She chided.

"I won't, promise." Before I had even finished the sentence she had reached out with one hand, pulling me into a light embrace.

"Okay," and just as quickly she released me. She flashed another toothy smile while she continued her dancing in place "I'll be back tomorrow morning." Inniri took a single step back and exploded into the air. Windblown flurries of snow forced me to shield my face for a moment, and by the time I looked up again she was nowhere to be seen. Her good humor had rubbed off on me though, and I practically bounced with each step to my cabin door. Snow was piled up so high that I had to shovel it out of the way before swinging the door open.

Warm, wet air hit me like a wall. My pleasant mood evaporated as I froze in place at the threshold. The cabin had been abandoned for weeks; it should have been freezing cold. I flicked my ears towards the darkened interior and took a deep breath in through my nose, trying to sense what my eyes couldn't see. Immediately I was rewarded with the powerful odor of pipe smoke and the gentle whisper of drawn steel. The latter made me take a step back from the door, drawing the long knife I carried. "Don't flee. My men have instructions to kill anyone coming down the path, and it would be a shame not to kill you myself."

The words were threatening, but the deep and furious voice was what made my heart thunder with sudden dread. Darkness may have hidden the owner of that voice, but I could still picture him in my mind. I still remembered the human face, clean shaven and hard as granite. High cheekbones and deeply-set, impossibly bright eyes belied his fey heritage, even more than the fiery red hair he had gathered into a tight braid. It was the face of the man that had driven me into hiding these last years. "I heard you speaking to someone outside. It's a pity that they will die somewhere down that path, but at least you'll never have to tell them the truth, murderer."

I slumped in shame, even as I breathed a sigh of relief that Inniri had safely flown from here. Warm lamp-light filled the room suddenly, revealing my accuser. He leaned against the back wall of my cabin, glaring at me with unconcealed hatred. The source of the light was a hooded lamp that he held in his right hand. His left fist was wrapped easily around the handle of a deadly steel blade the length of my arm. "You shouldn't have gotten anyone else involved. You should have just turned yourself in and saved us all these three years of trouble. Assassinating a crown prince isn't something that you can run away from, and now you've gone and dragged another innocent down."

I edged a little further into the building; hopefully if I could fight him in the confines of the cabin he wouldn't be able to wield his sword as effectively. "I've told you enough times that was an accident, Shane."

Darkly dyed hunting leathers rustled as his arm lifted in a lazy sweep, the air whistling unnaturally around the blade. Realization struck me only barely in time, and I raise my knife the block the phantom sword that streaked through the air. "Do not use my first name as though we are equals!" He snarled. I had momentarily forgotten that he did not need to close distance to strike at me. "It was no accident that your arrow ended up in his gut." Shane finished more calmly, though his face was still a simmering mask of rage.

"I thought he was you!" I snapped, shaking with the onset of my own anger.

"Because you are an idiot! A single moment of consideration would have shown that you were drawing down on the wrong brother, but I'm sure though that you were too deep into your bottle to spare such a thought." He pushed himself up away from the wall as he spoke. With a careless aim he tossed the lantern towards the table, shattering it.

Inniri will be so disappointed that I didn't bring the lantern. The thought clashed weirdly with the sudden whoosh of flame as burning lamp oil exploded over the side of my cabin.

"I'm tired of talking to my brother's killer. Raise your blade dog; let's finish this."

I did so, pushing aggressively into the room. The bow was my strength, but perhaps with some luck I could hem him into the room. I hoped to close the distance before he could use his reach to his advantage, but the moment I came within striking distance, his sword flicked up dangerously quick. I intercepted it with my own steel, only to have him side-step into my block and ram his shoulder into my chest. I was still grunting with surprise when his free right hand closed onto the hilt of my dagger, wrenching it from my suddenly lose grip. I was still reeling from the disarmament when his boot struck me just below the sternum. My lungs seized up from the blow, and I collapsed into a coughing heap.

"Pathetic. I can't believe an animal like you killed my brother." He stood over me, outlined by the flickering firelight of my home burning behind him. Pain seared in my chin as his sword tip bit into the flesh there. I was forced to raise my head, exposing my throat. Fear spiked through me as I realized that my death was moments away. "Before I kill you, I just want you to know that I-"

Whatever he was going to say was swallowed by the booming clamor of timber being shredded. The ground itself trembled as the flaming wall of my cabin disintegrated in a cloud of splinters and dust.

Shane whirled towards this new threat. Even shocked as I was, I realized my opportunity. My knife was gripped firmly in his right hand now, so I pulled my bow off my back. It might be unstrung, but it was still an inch thick strip of hardened wood. Still coughing, I forced myself to stand and swung with all the might left in my shoulders. He must have heard me getting to my feet, because he started to turn back in my direction, only to catch the blow across the bridge of his nose. He screamed as blood spurted from the crushed pulp of his face, but he was once again drowned out. A keening howl that couldn't belong to any natural creature reverberated through the air. The sound filled every available space, seeming to come from everywhere at once. Ancient instincts seized me; the long-dormant impulse to freeze in the presence of a more dangerous predator, hoping that it hadn't seen me yet.

Fear held me tight for a moment, but Shane was already wiping the blood from his eyes, staggering away from the destruction. "Leigh!" The animal howl faded with the unmistakable cry of my name. Recognition was slower this time, but eventually I realized who must have demolished my home. I gritted my teeth through the primordial terror and forced my legs to move, stumbling into the cloud of dust, still short of breath and cradling what I'm sure was at least one broken rib. I blinked furiously and suppressed the urge to sneeze and flecks of wood fiber settled into the fur of my face. The stuff coated the moist flesh of my nose like glue. Passage through the cloud was swift, and quite suddenly I stepped out, squinting into the sunlight. "Leigh!" Inniri called again, this time in enthusiastic greeting. She reached down with both arms, pulling me to her even as she scanned the wreckage of my cabin.

"Go Inniri", I croaked. "There's more, in the woods."

The dragon spared only a single glance at the tree line. Her lips lifted in a bladder-emptying growl, and then her jaws parted as that gnarling growl turned into another howl, only to terminate in a sudden whomp of detonation. A smallish bolt of swirling yellow flame streaked from her jaws into the trees. A heartbeat after striking, it erupted in a blast that blew full grown pines apart like kindling. The blast reached us a moment later, plastering my fur down and making me clap my hands to my sensitive ears. Inniri unleashed a similar blast towards the cabin, her face full of hate, before turning and taking to the sky.

Morbid curiosity kept my focus glued to the carnage below us as it faded rapidly. Two enormous craters swirled with hungry flames, and logs lay scattered like toys. Among it all, a single figure stood in the open, observing our retreat.

Our previous trip had seemed to stretch forever; now it was blinding. The rush of wind made conversation impossible. I suppose I was glad for that. Explaining why I owed my life to Inniri a second time wasn't exactly a pleasant thought.

Scarcely a few minutes had passed before the walls of the keep appeared in the distance. They grew in my vision until we finally landed outside; our speed was so great that Inniri actually plowed a furrow in the snow as she skidded and hopped to a stop. I tried to climb out of her grip once we were on the ground, but she gave a little grunt and held firm, making awkward flapping hops until we were at the door to the main hall. Only after she had safely closed and barred the heavy oaken doors behind us did she reluctantly release me, letting me clamber down onto the stone tile.

She seemed to deflate after the door was barred. With slow, tired steps she padded over to the mattress and collapsed on it. The lingering pain in my chest was forgotten for the moment as concern overrode it. I hurried over to the bedside, circling around so that I could look her over and make sure there weren't any injuries. "Are you all right Inniri?"

"I'm alright. I just thought I'd left violence like that behind me."

Guilt gnawed at me as I realized that it might not be a physical injury troubling her. "I'm sorry you had to do that. You saved my life again, thanks." My desire to comfort was not matched by my capability.

She smiled softly, "Anytime."

I swallowed nervously before continuing, "I feel like I need to tell you what that was about."

"No." She said firmly, surprising me. "No you don't. Everyone runs from something Leigh. Big or small, everyone has something they want to hide from the world. If you want to tell me to make yourself feel better that's fine, but please don't tell me because you think I want an explanation. I know as well as anyone what it's like to want to put something in the past."

Dragons were rare enough that it had never seemed particularly strange to find one living alone in an abandoned castle. Now, I realized that Inniri might have secluded herself out here at the end of civilization for her own reasons. "Okay. Maybe some time we'll both feel more comfortable with our secrets." A strange blankness passed over her face, and she gave a little shrug of her wings.

"Why don't you pour some hot water for yourself? You look like you've been at a sawmill all day." I didn't begrudge her the change of subject. It was obvious

enough that she just wanted to forget what had occurred, so I did as directed. Minutes later I was soaking in the steaming bath water; Inniri once again held the scrub-brush with her tail. I stared into the embers left in the hearth as the bristles massaged me into a near-slumber, when a though suddenly struck me.

"I do have something that I have to admit." I struggled to resist the tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"What's that?" She asked warily.

"I forgot the lantern."