Sully peered out of the wagon. “We’re here, Sir.”

Volsten groaned on his dragon-pillow. He stood and stretched, where a mighty yawn escaped. This was perhaps the most boring job he’d ever taken. No bandits or outraged animals to see, no wild witches threatening to turn the caravan into dust. Just riding, for days on end. He supposed that he should be grateful for the uneventfulness, but there were precious few times that he could use his sword. That meant rust when he truly needed it.

Sully brought her head back in. Apparently, this was one of those hard rain days, for her hair was slick with water, and her face was drenched. “Wet!” she said excitedly, then hurried out of the wagon. Volsten lifted Xyra onto his shoulder and followed her.

A dirty, muddy hovel situated near nowhere important. That was Ostic. For some reason, and Volsten had noticed this on his many travels, it always rained in these places. Not too heavy, but a constant light sprinkle that kept things rather dreary. During the rare moments where it didn’t, there was still a permanent overcast of sad gray.

Many in the academy had dreamed of such places. A life lived in Adamore’s cities had become boring to them. They grew tired of the noise and crowded streets and longed for simple quietness. Nobles were, at times, the dumbest creatures in the world. Volsten would take the cleanliness and beauty of Isaldin or Tregar over this living misery any day.

Xyra groaned weakly in his ear. He let her have this one. She’d been rather quiet since he first loaded her in the wagon. Sully, on the other hand, filled it with words. The closer they came to Ostic, the more she tried to speak with him. There were excited talks of just how he would steal her away from the others. Talks that he neither confirmed nor denied, yet she went on with regardless.

He felt something nudge him and turned to find Sully with the silliest grin on her face. By now many of the caravan’s travelers were out and about. They removed things from their wagons and set them aside. Sully’s siblings were there with them, almost as excited as their eldest sister.

“Sir, let me help them with this,” she said. “Then I’m gonna come find you.”

Volsten nodded. “Of course.” He paid little attention to her. There were few buildings in this village, and of those few, most were homes. One was a bit more put-together than the others, and he could only assume that it was the Constable’s. Arwight waddled there now, with Malnae mysteriously absent from his arm. There was another, this one quite large. Painted with fading white letters was a sign that read “INN”, just above the door.

Volsten trudged through the mud, cursing as it tried its best to suck in his boots. It was a rough walk, and Xyra groaned loudly throughout. He made it to the inn with mud-caked boots, and a damp bundle of dragon. The small door swung, and he was greeted with the familiar warmth that only an inn could give.

He slid in with Xyra. Heads turned. There was a surprising number of patrons inside; many were older, and Volsten imagined that these tables saw them for most of their days. A few steps brought him to the innkeeper, who eyed him suspiciously. An older woman, and not much to look at. Rough and hard-eyed, like most in these nowhere places.

“A room, ma’am,” Volsten said. He was gentle with Xyra here, to avoid any undue sounds.

The innkeeper was cleaning a mug, and she didn’t stop to speak. “That body sleeping with you?”

Volsten forced a laugh. “Just a few things.”

“City folk,” the innkeeper said with exasperation. “2 gold a night. Food depends on what you want.”

“Seems a bit much, don’t you think?” Volsten said, pushing wet hair from his face.

“Pretty boy, but empty pouch,” she said with little kindness. “Ya don’t like what I’m charging, sleep with the Constable.”

Why were country women always so hostile? Then again, if all he knew was a shitty little hovel he’d be pissed, too. With his free hand he reached into his pouch and pulled out 2 gold coins. He placed them onto the counter, where the innkeeper scooped them away with a smile. Behind her, among mugs and other inn things, was a rack of keys. Without looking she plucked one from it and slapped it into Volsten’s outstretched hand.

“Up the stairs, third door on the left,” she said.

Volsten bowed as he could with Xyra on his shoulder, then hurried up the steps. He didn’t know why the innkeeper specified the way she did. There were only three doors, and they were all on the left. Volsten unlocked his room door, and it swung open with the creak of disuse.

The room was simple enough. There was a bed, complete with one sheet and two rather hard-looking pillows, along with a table. To the right of the bed was a window, letting in the cold gray light of day. To the right of the window was a table, situated with two lamps for night lights.

Volsten relieved himself of Xyra, placing her on the floor beside the table. Again this was not particularly gentle, and Xyra groaned loudly this time. Volsten chuckled to himself and sat on the bed’s edge. Muddy boots thudded to the floor, and let loose his sword on the bed.

He closed his eyes. He’d need to find a bath somewhere. It was unlikely that an inn in such a small place would have its own. Even if it did, he’d rather not ask the innkeeper. Terrible thing to look at, she was.

Mmmm…mmmm!

“Oh would you be quiet!” he shouted at the fussing bundle.

She continued, but with more gusto.

“Fine!” Volsten said, lifting himself from the bed. He kneeled next to Xyra and slowly unraveled her. When he was finished, she stared at him with wide eyes. A small patch of blood stained the cloth.

“Untie me, please…” she begged him.

“I don’t have any rope left. You’ll have to stay like this.”

“But my wings, please my wings…”

Oh, right. Being tied like that for so long probably felt like death. Regardless, what he said was true. “You’re quite lucky I even decided to unwrap you. If someone saw this, I’d have a world of explaining to do.”

“You’re no better than them,” she said softly. Then, with the slightest of flicks, she snapped the ropes that bound her wrists together.

My goddess! Volsten eyed Xyra with what he hoped was amusement, and not the sheer terror he truly felt. Xyra rubbed her wrists, discarding the rope that once held her. The rope that held her wings soon joined it, and Volsten felt that he made a terrible mistake.

Yet she pressed herself against the wall, far away from him. She tried to flare her wings, but it was clear by her face that it was an awful decision.

“Am I not?” Volsten said. “I haven’t beaten you yet, have I?”

Xyra gave her head a slow shake. By her tone and the half-lidded look of her, she didn’t have much energy left. “Where are we?”

“An inn,” Volsten said on his way to the bed. “Where else?”

“What’s an ‘inn’?” Xyra asked.

Volsten tilted his head. “A place where travelers stay the night. Don’t dragons have anything like it?”

“We only have our dens,” Xyra said.

“Then where in the world do you stay on long journeys?”

“Anywhere that’s safe. Most won’t approach us like that.”

“Like what?” Volsten asked, genuinely curious.

“Like…you,” Xyra said. “Usually they turn away from us.”

Volsten grunted and leaned against the wall behind him. “Well, I had a caravan to protect. I couldn’t let a dangerous beast lie in wait for an innocent person.”

Xyra did what Volsten could only discern as pouting. Perhaps it would have been more evident in a less weakened state. “I’m not dangerous!”

“You’re a dragon,” Volsten said simply. “You’re always a danger.”

Xyra didn’t respond. Instead, she perked up, and looked less like the wounded creature she was. “Is there food here?”

“It’s an inn. Of course.”

“Then…please.”

Volsten sighed, loud and deep. “Fortunately for you, I’m also hungry.” He stood and slipped his feet back into his boots. He was aware of Xyra’s hungry eyes on him as he walked to the door. “Wait here,” he said, though he knew the words didn’t really matter.

Down the steps he went, back into the inn’s heart. The innkeeper was saying something to one of the patrons, and they all laughed heartily. It turned to silence as Volsten stepped to the counter.

The innkeeper took her time walking down the counter’s length. “What?”

“I’ll have something to eat, I think.”

The woman grunted. “What do ya want?”

“I don’t mean to ask beyond means," he said. "What do you have?”

“Chicken, cows, potatoes, bread. None o’ that fancy shit you eat in the cities, boy.” She almost spit the words at him.

Volsten was tempted to reach across the counter. There was little this country wench or any of the elderly that were her patrons could do to stop him. “Of course. Three legs of chicken, if it’s not too much trouble for you.”

“5 silver.”

Volsten reached into his pouch. He fumbled around for a bit. Gold was abundant, silver much less so in his pouch. He placed them on the counter as he found them. When he finally finished, the innkeeper raked them all into her hand and set them under the counter. She disappeared into the doors behind her.

Volsten leaned on the counter. He expected the woman to return with haste, a plate full of chicken, but the door remained frustratingly closed.

A plate slapped the counter. Volsten started. Sleep had nearly taken him. Before him was a wooden plate with three rather large legs of chicken, brown and hot.

“And just before my dying breath,” he said, grabbing the plate.

The innkeeper somehow laughed at that.

Back up the steps and into his room. Xyra still sat where she was before, but now her eyes were closed.

She sleeps beautifully, he thought, then kicked himself. This was no different than thinking a dog was beautiful.

He set the plate on the table. He pondered how to wake her for a while, and whether she would drop the demureness when first awaking from sleep. A firm kick would suffice.

Xyra awoke in a fit of sun-eyed blinking.

“Food,” Volsten said simply.

Xyra’s lips turned a bit, and she shot to her feet, scattering the pieces of rope that rested on her. Eager eyes found the plate. She froze, staring without blinking at it. “I-I can’t eat this. I guess you didn’t believe me…”

Volsten leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Maybe I didn’t. Either way, I don’t necessarily care. You’ll eat what I buy.”

To his astonishment, Xyra left the plate where it was. She found a corner and slid down the wall until she sat, whimpering like a child. If this was a game, her commitment was strong. He was starting to believe her.

He shrugged and pushed from the wall to the table. He brought a leg to his mouth and bit. Not the best he’d had, but it was enough for his growling stomach.

“Why?” Xyra whined. “I just want to go home…”

“You’re quite irritating,” Volsten said, swallowing. “The only time you’ve shown backbone is to starve yourself.”

“I don’t want to starve,” she said, patting her thin stomach. “I just can’t bring myself to eat meat. If I do, it might not stay down…”

“Come here.” Volsten waved her over.

She simply stared at him, solid in her corner of the inn.

“Consider that your choices are limited, dragon.”

She sighed greatly, then took her time rising. Small, slow steps towards him, like a child to a stranger.

Something about her was absolutely maddening to him. She was terrifying in her beauty, giant wings of red and horns that could gore a man, all with eyes capable of stealing souls. But she was no more than a frightened rabbit.

Volsten found his patience dwindling. He strode over to her, causing her to nearly shrink out of her gown, and brought her by arm to the table. “Eat!”

“Why are you so bent on me eating this?” She asked quickly, fearful of his ire.

“I wouldn’t want my promise of riches to starve, now would I? It also saves a bit of coin, given that fresh vegetables aren’t all that cheap.”

“B-but you have one of my scales, that’s more than enough…”

“You understand nothing,” Volsten said, exasperation showing. “Look where we are. These people have nothing. They couldn’t offer anything close to the value of this scale. It’s worth far more than a head of cabbage, dragon.”

She resisted him. White hair brushed against him with the shaking of her head.

“You’re going to make me really, really angry.”

She stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes, clouding their glow. Her breaths were shallow and swift, and…smoke? Was that smoke, drifting from her nose?

Volsten let no panic mar him. “Don’t think about it.”

“I-I wasn’t!”

“Good. Now, eat!”

There was a soft cry as she took one of the legs. It came up to her lips, then stopped. With a shudder, a small bite. She stood as a statue. Slowly she chewed, her eyes closed.

“Enough of that. Swallow.”

That she did, but by the goddess did she take her time. When it was finished, she groaned, and the welling tears had finally streamed down her cheeks. “I just know I’m going to throw up…”

Volsten gave her a strong pat on the back. “See? That wasn’t so bad!” Volsten moved back to the bed. “Throw up, and we’ll have to do this all over again.”

She sniffled and wiped her nose with the gown’s sleeve. “Okay, sir…”

Volsten flopped onto the bed. “So. About these people who can give me gold. Who are they?”

She didn’t answer him. She sat at the table, back towards him, silent. If not for her wings awkwardly drooping, he would have seen little else than snow-white hair.

“Xyra!” he shouted.

Her head turned slightly. “They’re my people. Not humans.”

“So they’d just hand it over to me, for a random dragon? They’d sooner eat me, I imagine.”

“I’m more than…” she paused for a moment. “If you handed me over, I’d make sure that you are safe.”

Volsten laid down on the bed, pushing his blade aside. “I don’t know much about that place. What use do monsters have for gold?”

“We don’t, at least not dragons,” she said. “Some do find it valuable, as something pretty to look at. They collect a lot of it.”

Interesting. They probably weren’t gold coins, so useless as they came, but he could do something with them. That would require a sojourn through the monster-filled region of Val Eneyas, however, and he didn’t feel particularly suicidal.

“No,” he said. “I have a better idea.”

He was answered with a heavy exhale. “What is it?”

“There’s a…noblewoman. Some ways away from here. I’ve known her since I was a child. She’s absolutely fascinated by dragons and monsters and the like. I’ll take you to her.”

“You’re going to trade me, like a pet?”

“Maybe,” Volsten laughed. “If the price is right, I’ll trade anything.”

“I am not a pet, mister!” she said, this time with some level of indignation. It was almost princess-like in its haughtiness.

“At this point,” Volsten said, “you’re whatever I wish you to be.” He tossed a pillow for her to sleep on. It soared into her head before landing on the floor. “We leave in the morning, after I’ve managed to find a bath. I suggest you eat the rest of that before you starve.”

Xyra stood, eyeing the pillow that was once a projectile. She laid down with her face pointed at Volsten.

He didn’t look at her directly, but from the corner of his eye. She was looking at him. What did she think at this moment? To kill him? “How are you feeling, dragon?”

“As if the world doesn’t care at all for me.” There was a hint of tearfulness in her voice.

He wanted to laugh at her, to mock the sadness that she felt, but he found that he couldn’t.

We're similar in that way, Xyra.