The lady with no name is only five or six paces behind me and She-Dragon. She closes the distance with smooth, yet cautious, steps, the grass of the clearing crunching softly beneath her feet. The trees sway far above us, the leaves whispering against each other as they sway to a gentle breeze.

“The past didn’t particularly allow practice for these sorts of... naming... things,” I reply to her question, making my face contort into a grimace. “I’ve never had a true pet before. At least not one that didn’t die prematurely.” I mumble the last under my breath. It brings memories that make my chest hurt from a very long time ago, when the assassins trained me how to kill cleanly and quickly.

They would allow me to grow attached... and then torture something I'd come to care for until I put it out of its misery. It was cruel, but effective.

She-Dragon gives me a look of pure loathing that promises retribution at calling her a pet.

I hold up my hands in supplication. "Not that you're my pet, more my—umm—"

“You’re just digging a deeper hole, your highness,” the lady says, amused.

I sputter indignantly and ineloquently, and her eyes dance with laughter, highlighting the amber flecks swimming in the brown depths. She bows towards my dragon. “Hello, I am Alyssa. Would you mind letting me help doofus here think of a name we may call you?”

The crazy dragon bobs her head up and down while chittering laughter, then she flicks her tongue out to lick Alyssa. I finally know her name. Yay me.

Alyssa giggles. “I figured you’d need to be rescued from those hideous names. Firebreath? Seriously?” She pokes my shoulder. I flinch, and she raises her brows.

I shrug, trying to ignore her inquisitive stare. “She breathes fire.”

They both give me identical looks of incredulousness. Then Alyssa looks to my dragon. “Is he always like this?”

My dragon gives a breathy sigh before dipping her head in acknowledgment.

“You poor dear. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from our beloved prince’s idiotic ideas.”

“Hey!” I protest. It falls on deaf ears as they both studiously ignore me.

“Now let’s see. You are mighty and strong. But also filled with a gentle spirit. A truly gentle and beautiful giant. Scales of onyx on a lithe figure. Graceful neck and well-proportioned head. Gently swirling horns of silver that remind me of a unicorn. And those eyes.” She shakes her head. “Just like the time I saw a priceless gem for sale in the market. It was unlike anything else I had ever seen and will ever see again. So beautiful. So unique.” My dragon practically glows at the praise, preening at the attention. The feathers on the top of her head bristle upright as her ears stand up straight on her head and the horns almost seem to glow.

I can only shake my head in wonder, watching the scene play out before me. And my admiration for this little compassionate sprite before me grows. This is exactly what She-Dragon needs after living with that monster.

“We need a name that is both beautiful and unique, but with softer undertones.” She taps her nail against white teeth as she thinks.

And finally, my dragon deems to include me. She sends me an image of stars deep in space, as only can be seen from the depths of the sky while soaring through the clouds. It takes my breath, seeing constellations through her eyes that I never knew existed, much less seen as if I could reach out a finger and graze the nebulas. There are green and pink and orange swirls of constellations and purple giants and everything in between.

“Super-nova,” I whisper. “Unique. Unlike any other. And shining as bright as a bursting star in a black night of dark times, defending man and showing compassion on those whom you’d never met. Lighting up the skies and paving the way. Nova.” I look up to find them both staring at me as if I’d grown another head. “What?”

They look at each other before looking back at me. “That’s perfect,” Alyssa whispers in shock.

My dragon nods her head up and down enthusiastically. She sends me feelings of such warmth my cheeks immediately grow warm. Her gratitude is unlike anything I have ever felt. Such a big heart. I hug her colossal head, trying to return the feelings she sends to me, forgetting our audience.

Clapping and whistling make us both jump. Her hard chin scales bangs against my forehead, making stars dance before my eyes.

“Are you alright?” Alyssa asks with barely suppressed amusement.

I sit down, milking it for all I can get. But still, it was a solid blow much like that of a full-grown Shifter. My dragon has a hard head. I shake my head to clear the stars. “I’ll be fine. In a moment. The grass is quite comfortable.”

“That’s not grass,” Alyssa’s muffled voice penetrates the haze of my mind as she walks away.

Not grass? Feels like grass, and my sense of smell seems to be befuddles as it smells like... fermented grass, perhaps?

As I sit on the ground, the other shifters come up and introduce themselves to Nova. Sir Rey sits beside me, groaning as he does so. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be.”

I snort. “You’re what, fifteen years older than me?”

“A lifetime, kid. A lifetime. So what’s the plan?”

“I have a place in mind for a new place to call home. Should be safer. It’s a valley surrounded by mountains, only accessible through certain small mountain paths and hidden from the rest of the world. It’s right on the border of the desert.”

“The home of the Werecats?”

I smirk. “You might meet a few if you decide to keep following a certain foolhardy shifter.”

He shakes his head. “What next? Baby dragons?”

Laughter erupts from me, catching me by surprise.

“Baby dragons?” he says, not able to hide the incredulousness in his voice as his cheek twitches.

I nod, and he grins, shaking his head in disbelief. "You are indeed full of surprises, old friend."

I grow sober, laying my head back but keeping a hand on a hidden blade. “We need to see how many Nova can carry. I’d prefer to get you all out of here before the Emperor’s men find us.”

“I’ll get the troops prepared.” I begin to rise with him, but he puts a hand on my shoulder. “Stay, your highness. You’ve been through much. Let me take over for a bit.”

I nod, the lump in my throat making me unable to express my gratitude for such a seemingly inane thing.

“But you might wish to find a less—cushy place to lay your head.”

I rise to my knees, then find what I’m actually laying on.

I stand, moving further and further from the large pile of... is that dragon pellets? A thorough dousing and scrub takes away most of the scent to where a human would hardly notice. I do not have that luxury. There hasn’t been a time I’ve wished for normal human senses more. Sadly, the greasy strands of my dark hair glisten with a little something more than my own natural oils.

One more scrubbing from a borrowed canteen and I’m at least mostly content.

Then I settle on a nice, cushy patch of moss. I close my eyes, a smile on my lips.

It seems like ten seconds before a rock pings off my forehead. I growl deep in my throat. The second rock doesn’t get the chance to get close when my hand comes up to grab it from the air. I send it hurtling back to its original thrower.

“Ow!”

I smile.

I turn my head to find quite a few of the youngsters watching me with varied hints of curiosity and fear, as if I were some exotic and dangerous animal.

They can’t be more than fourteen, and still looking for all the trouble a child can get into. Has it become so dire that they must bring along children as fodder? As I think back, few older men are with us. There are two elders who seem to defer to Sir Rey. I would peg them around a hundred with their greying hair. They seem to stay out of the way. I haven’t even met them, just seen their silver coats in the pack and a few glances of them sneaking into the woods with Sir Rey. Sir Rey is about the only one of his age, around fifteen years my elder. That makes the majority between the kids of fifteen and my age.

It makes me sick to think of such kids embroiled in a war when they should be learning to run and hunt as wolves with their parents and siblings and get into mischief as the teenagers they are. Perhaps they’re doing just that at the moment. The thought makes me smile. If so, I hope this war hasn’t stolen everything from their childhood as it has mine.

While I was in my own head, the youngsters had backed away quickly, conversing among themselves.

“What’d you do that for?” The youngster holding his shoulder I'd pegged with the rock just about shouts. He seethes, ashen anger rolling from him in waves, him being the only one not to move away. The rest behind him, oh about fifteen Shifters a little older and wiser, freeze like rabbits sensing a hawk.

“Has anyone ever told you not to poke the bear?” I growl in the voice that has made grown men quake.

He quickly looks away from my calm gaze, sensing that he's about to get in over his head. His shoulders slump. “Uhh... no sir. Sorry, sir. We’ll leave, sir.”

“Not so fast. What’s your name?”

The one I’ve singled out looks to his buddies for help, his blond hair swishing over his forehead. They just shrug, and he’s left looking back at the angry shifter on the ground that just pegged him back with his own pebble. “Jonas, sir.”

“Do you know what bears do when we get angry?” I get up slowly, making eye contact with every conspirer.

“I’m sorry, your highness!”

“We didn’t mean nothin’ by it!”

“Help!” That squeal from Jonas threatens my careful composure. I almost burst out laughing. It’s a close thing.

Instead I roar, a deep guttural sound that would do any bear proud. I pounce on the troublemakers. They scatter before me like fleas.

I catch the leader, Jonas, and shove him down, careful to land as gently as possible on top of him. Then I truly lose it. I drive my fingers into his ribs and sides, guffawing as his terror-filled eyes transform when he realizes I will not hurt him. He begs me to stop, and I do, but not before I have him laughing so hard he’s almost crying before I move on to the next kid. And the next. And the next. And the next.

I pause for a moment, watching the little guys scurrying and hiding like this is some elaborate game of catch the mouse. I scratch my chin in contemplation. Then shout, “I KNOW THERE WEREN’T THIS MANY KIDS BEFORE!”

Giggles and laughter burst from the surrounding trees. Adults and kids alike are hiding, chanting “Tickle Mon-ster. Tickle Mon-ster.”

I wish I could turn into a wolf and use my nose to track the rabble down, but it’s no use. I couldn't tickle with paws.

So I do the next best thing. I stick my nose to the ground and start sniffing them out. Laughter abounds as the great prince sniffs them out like a bloodhound with large, gangly legs before tickling them until they can hardly draw breath.

Squeals and shouts abound around the clearing, many laughing as hard as the ones I’ve caught. I haven’t had this much fun in years.

I up the ante by grabbing a few canteens and slinging them on my shoulders. The next I sniff out gets drenched. He’s hiding in a bush, the top of his curly red hair sticking out like thorns above the greenery of the evergreen brush. I laugh, dumping a whole canteen on his head and making the curls plaster to his forehead.

My laughter turns to a gulp as he stands up. And keeps going up. I gulp under his eight-foot tall, powerful glare, scuttling off with my tail tucked between my legs. His booming laughter echoes behind me as I search for my next victim with a relieved smile. He could’ve plucked me in half with those arms the size of a tree. He’s gotta be a blacksmith.

Before too long, most of my pack mates are soaked. I even got Sir Rey. He growled like a dog protecting its bone as I dumped a whole canteen over his head as he sat by the fire. I hightailed it out of there before he could retaliate.

I haven't had this much fun since Aric died.

My dragon huffs an annoyed breath, but I see the amusement in her eyes. I sit on a rock after catching a girl of only fourteen or fifteen. She squealed so loud it almost hurt my ears.

“Alright you rabble of good for nothing wolves, prince is tired,” Sir Rey says.

He stops next to me as a round of disappointed 'Awwws,' drift from the trees.

I look up to find a smirk on my old friend’s face. I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.

He pats my shoulder. "Payback is sweet, Alpha," he says with a wink.