There were certain things a mind did when confronted with something capable of tearing the body it lived inside of limb from limb. Of those things, the inclination to freeze was the strangest. Unfortunately for Volsten, that’s exactly what his mind decided to do.

He’d never seen a dragon, but the creature before him fit the description. Wings, tail, horns, scales. They were all there, but by his eyes, a little worse for wear. Especially its wings. Giant, ragged holes were opened in them, and at their worst parts, they looked no better than tattered curtains.

The creature began to stir, and Volsten inhaled a breath so sharp that it nearly pierced his chest. First, its wings lifted. Before, they covered it as if in protection. Next, its tail began to unwind, flattening the tall stalks of grass that surrounded it.

Volsten thought to run. The dragon moved slowly, as if just waking from sleep. It hadn’t yet lifted its head, so it couldn’t have seen him yet. But perhaps that would be foolish. What if it saw him as a fun little treat to catch?

Volsten looked back to the caravan. From here, he could just see the tops of the wagons. It isn’t too far; I could probably make it. He turned back to the creature before him, and nearly yelled.

In the time it took him to turn his head, the dragon had finally lifted its own. Greeting him were bright, golden-orange eyes.

There were no words. He stared at it. It stared at him. After a time, its wings fluttered, and those same golden-orange eyes darted about in confusion.

“W-where am I?” it asked of him.

In what had to be the quickest draw in Adamore’s long history, Volsten's sword was ready. Never before had he gripped its hilt so hard. The creature’s eyes fixed on it. Volsten prepared himself for a blast of fire, or a strike strong enough to snap his blade in two.

Instead, its eyes widened, and it sought to hide itself behind its torn wings. “Please…don’t!” it squealed at him.

Is this thing fearful of me? It may have been a trick, a sick game to give him hope before it descended upon him with teeth and claws. For now, his fear was lessened enough for him to speak. “I am Volsten, Knight of Camara. Make yourself known!” Volsten held his blade straight at the dragon.

“Wait, please!” it squealed again, moving even further back. “My name is Xyranois. I’m just…lost.”

“You’re a long way from home, dragon.”

“I know! You see…” Xyranois looked down at her legs, no longer trying to hold his gaze.

Volsten’s eyes narrowed. “Speak, creature!”

“It’s…I was taken, you see. I don’t know where I am!”

There was something about this creature. Volsten came closer, his blade still pointing at her. She winced with each of his steps, and with each step Volsten’s fear eroded. He thrust his blade near her face. “Do you know how many of us your people have killed, dragon?”

Xyranois eyed the blade with nothing less than pure terror. “U-um…I don’t take part in that, I promise! I’d never hurt another creature!” Her lips trembled and turned in an odd way. “I don’t even eat them…”

Volsten scoffed so loudly that Xyranois jumped. “What kind of idiot do you think I am? A dragon that doesn’t eat meat?”

“Please don’t hurt me, I’m telling you the truth! I’ve already been through so, so much…”

He believed her on that. She looked as if she’d been beaten. Her cheeks were bloodied with ripped off scales, and one of her horns was chipped. The black gown she wore was torn in various spots.

"Even if you are telling the truth,” Volsten said, twisting his blade. “I’m not sure if I should pass up the opportunity to kill a dragon. Your head would get me untold amounts of gold.”

She let out a small whine and backed even further away. There wasn’t much room left for her to move if she didn’t want to bathe in the river. “I’m harmless! Please! I-I can get you all types of riches, you don’t have to kill me!”

An offer? He doubted it could be any better than bringing a dragon’s head to a willing buyer, but he would hear her out. “Talk quickly, dragon.”

“I don’t have anything on me of value besides my scales, but I know others who could give you gold…” she trailed off, mumbling things to herself that Volsten couldn’t quite understand.

“I know plenty of people who can give me gold. Why should I get it from a dragon?”

Xyranois chanced a look up at him. “If you can get gold from plenty of people, why would you want to kill an innocent dragon?”

“Because your head would bring me crowns instead.” Volsten laughed. “How much are your scales worth?”

“My captors said that they were priceless. Thousands of gold.”

Thousands? That couldn’t be right. Then again, the number of lords and ladies with fashionable scales around their necks was impossible to count. The demand was certainly high. “Yes, these mysterious ‘captors’ of yours. I have no reason to believe anything that you’ve said so far.”

“Do dragons really have that bad a reputation here? If so…” She touched her cheek and let out a deep sigh. Then she began to dig. She was clutching at a scale on her cheek and pulling, eyes shut and teeth clenched. It was prying away in a slow, likely painful process. Blood was streaming down from where it once lay.

Volsten watched the redness drip down her chin. “What are you doing?”

She continued to tug at the scale. By now, tears diluted the blood on her cheeks. The scale came off successfully, revealing fleshy pale skin beneath. “H..Here…Take it!” She thrust the scale towards him, a glint of hope in her slitted eyes.

Volsten hesitated. She went through much pain for this. Perhaps she spoke honestly? He snatched it from her and held it towards the sun. It was magnificent, and quite unlike the scales he’d seen before. He tucked the scale in his pocket before turning again to the dragon.

“Stand up,” he said.

Xyranois did as she was told, with a hand on her bloody cheek.

Volsten sheathed his sword. “What was your name again, dragon?”

“My name is Xyranois,” she said. Her head was turning, as if she looked for something.

“That’s far too long,” Volsten said. “How about Xyra?”

“Fine with me! It’s what my sister calls me. Um…you don’t happen to have any fruit, do you?”

“I’m not feeding a dragon.”

“But I haven’t eaten since yesterday!” she whimpered. “I don’t know this place. I can’t find any fruit trees here.”

Volsten sighed. A plant-eating, cowardly dragon. It was the most ridiculous thing he’d seen in quite some time. Also, pretty. Very pretty. Fear had clouded his eyes over before, but they now saw clearly. White hair flowed from the top of her head to below her back. She was a small lady dragon, not even up to his chin, but she held a lady’s shape impossibly well. Despite her battered appearance, she was maybe the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen.

His admiration was interrupted by growling.

Xyra stared at him, somewhat embarrassed. “Please, sir…”

“Wait here,” Volsten said with a finger in her face. “I don’t want you to have moved a single grass-length by the time I’ve returned.”

Xyra nodded. “I won’t! Promise!”

Volsten left her there and returned to the caravan. No one peered over this side of the road, but he was still sure to watch his pace. Useless paranoia, but he had found a bloody dragon. Caution was warranted.

Once he made it up the hill, he went about the business of gathering. He decided against getting her anything to eat. Instead, he searched for more important things, things that could hide her from prying eyes.

Rope was easy enough to find. It seemed everyone carried some, and at length. There was cloth abound, too, which he would use to cover her. Only, none of it looked right. He didn’t care for the cleanliness of it, nor the color, but as he eyed the sheets so generously given to him by the caravan’s people, he realized that they were all far too small. The dragon’s wings were too large to be concealed by any of them. Someone could sew a few of them together, but there was little time for that when the caravan was so close to moving.

But he had so much rope! Was there really nothing he could do? Volsten thought and thought quickly. He had an idea, but the dragon wouldn’t be too fond of it.

He gathered his rope and cloth, slung them over his shoulder, and made another careful walk down the rise. He didn’t see Xyra at first. The notion that he had imagined the whole thing crossed his mind. A dragon, in the middle of nowhere? He’d have to ask Sully if Arwight’s cooks slipped anything into that sauce of theirs.

She was there, however. Head bowed, sunk low into the grass, perfectly hidden within it.

“I told you not to move,” Volsten said.

Xyra looked up. “I didn’t want them to see me,” she said.

He had a mind to be angry, but it was a reasonable enough move. “Get up.”

Xyra stood, but with far less enthusiasm than last time. “Rope? Why?”

“Hold out your hands,” Volsten said, taking the length of rope from his shoulder.

“No…” Xyra shook her head, wide-eyed. “No. H-How will I eat?”

Volsten, you are an absolute idiot for this. Within moments he had both of Xyra’s hands together. Xyra yelped, and Volsten prepared himself for a terrible death at her claws.

“W-why?” Xyra’s voice shook.

Volsten wasted no time in binding her wrists. “You’re coming with me, dragon.”

“I…” she stammered, looking at her wrists. “Not again…please.”

“Look,” Volsten said, “you can stay here, lost and starving, or you can come with me.” He cut the extra rope away and began to unfurl the cloth.

“Someone else would find me. They would help me…”

Volsten laughed. “I am helping you. Would you like to take a chance with someone else? Would you like to see how quickly the King’s Order has your horns mounted on a wall?”

Xyra opened her mouth to speak, but she closed it without a word.

“Now, fold your wings in front of you. I must wrap you in this cloth. That’s not happening with your wings sticking out as they are.”

To her credit, she tried, but they didn’t get very far. She winced with the effort. “They’re badly hurt.”

Oh, she really won’t like this. “Here,” he said, handing her the cloth. She held it as best she could with bound hands. Volsten took the rope and tied it as far around her body as he could.

“Why are you doing all of this?” she asked. “I can’t fly as I am now, and as you said, I can’t run away.”

Volsten tied the rope off in front of her, and took the cloth from her hands. She’s going to scream bloody murder when I tighten this. “We aren’t walking. We’re taking something that has a lot of people around, so you must be hidden.”

Xyra stared warily at the knotted rope.

“I’m going to tighten this, you know, and with your wings as they are, it’s likely to hurt.” He didn’t know why he felt the need to warn her. He didn’t care how much pain she was in.

Xyra nodded, but he knew that she was unprepared.

He pulled, and Xyra’s broken wings pulled taught around her.

She screamed. Such a powerful voice from such a tiny frame surprised Volsten. Not to mention, it was quite a beautiful scream, if such things could exist. Regardless, he slapped his hand over Xyra’s mouth.

She went on for quite a while behind his hand. After a certain point, he was sure that she would never stop. Eventually she settled into a sharp, labored breathing, and Volsten removed his hand.

“Goddess, you have lungs,” he said as he draped the cloth around her. “Do dragons have extra lungs? I don’t know much about your bodies, to be honest.”

Xyra’s eyes were beyond him, unable to answer through what had now become sobs.

“Oh. Right. Well, I’m going to begin wrapping you in this now. I trust you won’t scream murder again.” Volsten twirled her in the cloth, covering her from horn tip to toe. He didn’t try to be gentle, and this elicited a few grunts of pain from the wrapped.

Now she resembled a roll of…something. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain this bundle of cloth to Sully. We’ll worry about that in time. He hoisted the dragon-bundle onto his shoulder, surprised at the weight of her. She wasn’t necessarily difficult to carry, but the wings added an unexpected and not insignificant amount of heft.

He worked his way back to the caravan, where Sully was pushing things into their wagon. Her parents were there, and they smiled at him. They were warm, welcoming smiles, befit for a son-in-law. Volsten thought it best not to return them, but he was no barbarian. Nice enough people they were, and they asked no questions about the large cloth wrap on his shoulders.

They went about to the front of the wagon. Volsten moved to the back. Seeing the bundle on his arms, Sully moved to the side and watched him. Her face was curious under its black hair, and Volsten waited for the inevitable question as he lightly placed Xyra inside.

“What’s that, sir?” Sully moved to his side, to peer into the wagon.

“Stuff,” Volsten said curtly.

“Oh,” Sully said. “Wood?”

“Yes.” Volsten hopped inside the wagon and rolled Xyra along to the back. There was a muffled protest, and Volsten hissed for her to be silent. Sully came along with him, but she was content with his answers, for she asked nothing more.

Before long, the wagons began to move. Their next stop would be Ostic, where his job would finally end. The trip to Isaldin was enticing, but his plans had changed. If what the dragon said was true, the prize he now leaned against-groaning weakly in its cloth prison-would make him one of the richest men in the kingdom. Of course, he trusted nothing she said. He had a much better plan than haggling with scales, one that involved an old friend.