Oskar emerged from the forest carrying a load of firewood. He was dressed simply, in only pants, shirt, and boots. Putting his armor back on this morning had been out of the question. He did manage to strap his harness around his chest, but the weight of his hammer when he'd snapped it to his back had been excruciating on his broken ribs, and he'd quickly decided to leave it behind. He carried no weapons besides his dagger, and the spells he could call upon at need.

The damage to his ears had rendered the forest eerily silent this morning, as he picked his way around broken trees and trenches gouged in the earth by the dragon's claws. Bending had been painful, so he walked the extra distance to pick branches that stuck up from felled trees. Even snapping them off was painful, but he'd managed without too much difficulty.

Amnestria was still sitting in the same spot he'd left her, huddled close to the dying fire with a blanket and his own cloak wrapped around herself as she kept the last watch of the night. Morning, really – they’d all slept in late today. Marent had finally woken, and was standing over Amnestria. The two were speaking, and Amnestria hunched her shoulders defensively. Marent seemed irritated as he pulled his cloak even more tightly around himself. Oskar sighed.

Oskar kept his eyes on the ground as he trudged over to the campfire and dropped the freshly splintered sticks, holding onto one with each hand. He bent very slightly at the waist, placing them onto the fire without too much trouble. He straightened quickly, finally turning to face Marent.

"Hurt much?" the dwarf asked, exaggerating the movements of his mouth as he spoke so that Oskar could understand. He stood on the other side of the fire, arms crossed, glaring at Oskar. He shook his head. "Why did you no wait for me to wake and pray? C'mere, stubborn man."

Oskar walked around the fire, meeting Marent halfway. "We were out of firewood. That dragon's corpse is puttin' off cold like an ember puts off heat. We should have camped further away." Amnestria was huddled as close to the dying campfire as she could get without setting herself ablaze. She reached a hand out from her cocoon for another branch, poking the fire up as the flames began to catch the new fuel, She nodded as she added her stick to the growing blaze, scooting back a bit as the heat began to spread. As Oskar reached Marent, he saw him looking at Amnestria, and glanced down. Her lips were moving.

"-muscles seemed stiff. The walk did him good, stop yelling at him," she admonished Marent as she spread the cloak out a bit, trying to catch some of the fire's new heat. Oskar squinted, puzzling out what Amnestria was saying with some difficulty. "Besides, we DID need wood. A lot."

Marent shrugged, seemingly saying something in reply that Oskar was unable to catch. He gave Oskar a once-over, checking him for fresh injuries: spouting blood, protruding bones, exposed organs, splinters, and the like. He poked and prodded, unstrapping the harness so he could lift Oskar's shirt. The dwarf’s ungloved hands were freezing, and Oskar struggled to maintain his composure. It wouldn’t do to yelp; it would ruin his image. Marent checked that the wrapping was still tightly fastened before seemingly being satisfied, thoughtfully re-buckling the harness as he finished. "Well, you shouldna have gone so far in. There's plenty of fallen wood around the edges here."

Oskar watched Marent’s mouth closely as he spoke, and then eyed the branches and sticks littering the edges of the clearing, imagining himself bending all the way over to pick them off the ground. He suppressed a shudder. "Like Ness said, I needed the walk. Go pray, man. You'll stop worryin' so much once you waste all your spells on me. We'll start breakfast."

~~

Amnestria watched her friend moving stiffly around the campsite after he handed her the bag containing their cooking supplies. Thankfully, Oskar wasn't too seriously injured and was able to pour them mugs of ale, fill the tea kettle, and place it on its hook over the fire as she began preparing breakfast. The cold that Oskar was immune to had essentially locked her in place next to the fire, so she appreciated that she didn't need to get up just yet. She sipped at her mug, then set it aside with a shiver. It was too cold to drink right now without freezing herself from the inside out – she decided to wait for the tea. She watched Oskar down his entire mug in one go, and she shuddered. She finished peeling the potatoes, reaching for a pan and placing it into the carefully raked out patch of coals. Oskar sat gingerly next to her and took the small pot of peeled potatoes, cubing them before tossing them into a bowl between them.

She reached into the bag next to her, pulling out the crock of lard. She greased the pan, spreading the lard evenly before taking a handful of the cubed potatoes and scattering them in the pan. The satisfying sound of the vegetables sizzling in the fat was like a bell, and she immediately heard Rando shift in his tent, waking just in time to avoid the morning chores.

Amnestria turned to share a small smile with Oskar, before remembering that her best friend was still suffering from burst eardrums. She opened her mouth and almost reached out to catch his attention, before deciding that he'd notice soon enough. She shook the pan sharply to turn the potatoes before reaching into the bag again, pulling out a sack of crushed oats and a larger bowl. As Oskar finished cubing the potatoes, she mixed up a thick batter, adding the last of their eggs and a splash of water. Amnestria lamented the lack of milk and a proper kitchen, though she'd improvised so many campfire meals over the years that she barely even thought about it anymore. They weren't really going for taste here, just sustenance.

"Dragon steaks," Oskar said in his slightly hollow voice. He was gazing wistfully at the corpse of the ancient silver dragon that he'd slain almost single-handedly the previous night. He looked down at the fire as he greased a fresh pan for the hot cakes. "Dragon steaks and fried eggs. Are we sure she's diseased? Maybe it's just some skin condition, the meat might still be - "

"Tell you what-" Amnestria started before remembering. She waved a hand at Oskar, who turned to watch her lips as she spoke, handing him the bowl of batter. "Tell you what. You go over there, carve out a section of meat, and I'll cook it up for you. If you don't die in a week, we'll all enjoy a nice dragon steak breakfast."

Oskar snorted as he began scooping the batter into the pan. He stopped, and added more of the coarse oat flour to thicken it. He even added salt, for some ungodly reason, though she wasn’t about to question him. Anything Oskar cooked would be better than what she could do. “Would I be more likely to die from disease, or from the cooking- Ow!” Amnestria had forgotten about his ribs, and immediately regretted the punch. Oskar was so big and muscly that she usually didn’t need to pull a punch delivered in jest, and she had delivered a solid blow.

“Shit, sorry! Are you alright?” She could see the humor in his eyes, even as he maintained his usual stony expression. He rubbed at his side briefly before taking up the bowl again, seemingly in no greater discomfort than before. He began ladling the batter into the pan, and they cooked in silence for a short time before he spoke again. "Do you think anything's salvageable? the hide's all pocked and blotchy, the scales are more grey than silver, and they're weaker than normal. You saw how they were bein' knocked off left ‘n right whenever we hit?"

Amnestria nodded, shaking her own pan. She guessed that the potatoes were fully cooked, and dumped them into a bowl, adding more to the pan. Rando was definitely awake now, she could hear him clearing his throat and rustling around in his tent. Oskar had turned to watch her as she replied, and she took care to enunciate. "You said there was that black gunk in her mouth. So even the teeth are compromised?” He couldn’t hear the question in her tone, the upturn at the end of that sentence, so she raised her brows questioningly. He nodded. “This sucks. We finally kill a dragon, and we can't even make ourselves awesome matching dragon-hide armor!"

Oskar raised a brow as he sharply jerked the pan, flipping the hotcake without even using a spatula. He was a much better cook than she was, so he managed without taking his eyes off of her face. Show off. "Matchin’ armor?"

"Yes. You know, we could all wear pale grey dragon-hide armor, with bright silver scales around the neck and down the sides. Sell the rest of the hide and scales to pay for enchantments. Bright and shiny, distracting on the battlefield, intimidating and impressive.” She began gesturing grandly as she spoke, envisioning the three of them leading the armies into battle-

"Gaudy and showy, more like," Oskar replied as he settled the pan back in the coals. "They'd all be on us at the start of every fight, the troops would have to protect us like bodyguards... You'd make us into targets, woman."

"Hmph. Well, maybe just for fancy occasions. It's a moot point anyway if the hide's not usable." Amnestria shook the potatoes in the pan, tossing a bit of salt over them as she did so. She could hear Oskar’s voice in her mind, gently admonishing as he’d vainly tried to improve her skills. “Season as you cook, woman. Get the flavor in the food while it’s heatin’ up.”

She glanced at Oskar, and surreptitiously added salt to the cooling potatoes already in the bowl. He rolled his eyes and tended to his own pan, wisely choosing to not criticize her when she was doing so well this morning. He was lucky the first batch of potatoes wasn't burned.

Rando stumbled out of his tent then, immediately seeming to regret the decision as the freezing air slapped him in the face. "Gods above, why's it so cold? Autumn’s only just started!"

"Dragon corpse," Amnestria said simply. “Never killed a dragon before?"

She jerked her head at Oskar to inform him of Rando's emergence. Best that he not be startled, he might spill the food. Or stab Rando, but, breakfast was the priority here. Oskar glanced back at the man before returning to his cooking and ignoring their conversation. He didn’t care for Rando, who had annoyed Amnestria repeatedly with his compliments and suggestions. Oskar had been on the verge of stepping in the day before, but Amnestria had stopped him with the simple expedient of slapping Rando hard across the face and flouncing off, taking Oskar by the arm and dragging him away. It had seemed the safer option, when she’d noticed Oskar approaching with a thunderous expression. She’d hissed orders to him to leave it alone, that their payday was riding on finishing this mission, and that she could put up with a few compliments in the meantime. He’d grudgingly acquiesced, and she guessed that it was only because she obviously didn’t need his protection; she was more than capable of killing the man herself if the situation required it, and Oskar knew it.

“No, that’s why I asked for your help. I’d heard you were all mighty adventurers, vetted in battle and on the payroll of Khom Daruhl’s Crown Prince himself.” Rando squatted near the fire, holding one gloved hand out to warm himself. The other arm had been set, splinted, and strapped down last night, courtesy of Marent. “Have you? I heard you mention making armor?”

"Prince of Vorum, not Khom Daruhl. And we’ve fought dragons, but never had a claim to the corpse before. But you’ve promised us as much loot as we can carry, and first choice after that lyre you’re so keen on, so...”

“Is the name of the province not Khom Daruhl? I thought Vorum was a city?”

“Vorum is a city. Orgumir is the Crown Prince of Vorum. In the Dwarven lands, Crown Princes rule the cities like mayors do in your human lands, and each province has a High Prince. There is no ruler in charge of all four provinces. However, all the princes – the Crown Princes and the High Princes – are still royalty, and retain more authority and power than a human mayor would. Anyway, it’s cold because she was silver. Silver dragons are cold by nature.” Amnestria shook the pan again, belatedly remembering the potatoes. Not quite burned, but definitely darker than they should be. “When a dragon dies, their nature sticks around for awhile, no longer contained inside themselves. She should stop freezing things in a day or so."

Rando looked over at the corpse of the dragon. They'd camped as far away from her as they could without leaving the clearing entirely, and when Rando had finished his shift on watch and gone to bed, the cold hadn't yet reached them. The dragon, and the area around the corpse, was coated in a thick layer of ice. The morning fog had condensed and frozen onto the freezing flesh, entombing it in a sparkling blanket.

"Fascinating... Well, when she thaws, we can butcher her. Bring out crews of workmen or something.” He carefully avoided her eyes, wary of too intimate an interaction. He’d learned his lesson.

“Rando, you saw the black streaks all over her, right?” Amnestria gave him a look, suddenly wondering. Humans can’t normally see in the darkness, and it had been closing in on moonset when they’d reached the clearing they’d intended on camping in last night. They had only begun to set up a campfire, working by the light of a single torch, when a rumbling and a deep, furious roar had emanated from the forest.

Realizing that they’d managed to surprise their quarry away from her lair, they quickly prepared to fight. The dragon had been a pale shape in the dying moonlight, the streaks of blackness easily mistaken for shadow at first, and they had been overwhelmed almost immediately. The worst part had been when the dragon burst from the treeline, hurtling shattered trees and branches outwards. One had landed right on the satchel Amnestria hadn’t yet retrieved – the one in which she’d kept the majority of their potions. The only healing potion to survive that initial encounter had been a single vial on her belt.

Another, thankfully much smaller, splintered shard of tree had grazed the top of her scalp, snapping her head backwards and sending blood fountaining. Marent had been knocked out cold by the dragon’s tail while darting over to heal Amnestria’s gushing head wound, and Rando’s arm broken by a falling branch before he’d managed to reach Marent. This had limited his spell casting, and he was unable to heal Amnestria or to bring Marent back to consciousness. With both of their healers out of action, Amnestria had barely kept on her feet with the last potion, and she called a retreat. She and Oskar held off the dragon and snatched up their partially unloaded bags while Rando gathered up Marent and took off, torch held crookedly with his injured arm. At Oskar’s prompting, Amnestria had followed, reassured by her friend’s abilities – especially his ability to take more of a beating than anyone else she’d ever known. He’d caught up to them shortly, barely injured, proving her instincts correct.

“Well, Oskar mentioned her being diseased, of course. I take it there are lesions or boils or something? Surely we can cut around the bad spots-”

“Doubt it. The unblackened scales were dull grey, and brittle.” Amnestria scraped the well-done potatoes from the pan, adding a touch more of the lard and the rest of the raw tubers. She moved the rapidly cooling bowl closer to the fire, setting it almost in the coals to hopefully retain at least a bit of the heat. “Besides, we still have her lair to loot. Don’t worry, we’ll find your lyre and plenty more besides.”

Oskar sighed and leaned over with a pained grunt, dashing a pinch of salt over the sizzling potatoes before returning to his rapidly growing stack of perfectly round and golden brown hotcakes. He continued to ignore them as he poured out a round of tea for everyone. Amnestria had always admired his ability to cook more than one thing at a time without burning any of it. The tea was perfectly steeped, and she inhaled the warm steam deeply before drinking. Oskar began wiping out the bowls they’d been using, packing them away, still moving stiffly. He paused to flip the hotcake – perfectly browned – before retrieving plates and forks, setting them near the coals to warm.

Rando watched Oskar briefly, before turning slightly towards Amnestria and scratching at his cheek. With his mouth partially shielded from Oskar’s view, he asked, “So... what is he?”

“Um. What? Who, Oskar? He’s, um, human, of course. What?” Amnestria looked at Rando in confusion, wondering what Rando was implying. She briefly wondered if she should be offended on Oskar’s behalf, but decided to wait a bit, and see where he was going with this. It was a lovely, if freezing, morning and she had no desire to argue.

If warranted, she could get angry after breakfast.