The question deserved an answer. He knew that. Courtesy dictated that he identify himself, offer his name and lineage, and acknowledge the shelter she had provided. But he didn’t know the answer and he didn’t want to admit that he didn’t know. Revealing too much to the wrong creature could be fatal.
She saved me.
He remembered fragments of it now. Seeing something large and threatening and attacking on instinct. An explosion. Pain. And then… small hands, dragging him through the ice.
She had saved him. This tiny, fragile, scaleless creature had pulled him from the storm and brought him here.
Why?
He studied her more carefully. Her small body was covered by some type of ugly fabric, necessary perhaps for someone without scales. But beneath that covering, her form was all gentle curves and yielding flesh. Vulnerable in ways that made something in his chest tighten uncomfortably. Her face was tired, and there was a tension in the lines of her body that suggested she hadn’t relaxed in some time.
She was afraid of him. He could smell it now, beneath the other scents, but she was controlling it, masking it behind that steady gaze and those careful movements.
Brave. Foolish, perhaps, but brave.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”She said each word slowly, as if speaking to a child.“But I need to know if you understand me. Can you speak?”
The pain in his side pulsed again, and he turned his attention inward, assessing the damage. The wound was deep, but it had been treated. The bleeding had stopped, and while the injury was far from healed, it wasn’t actively killing him anymore. But there was an odd heat radiating from the wound that might indicate an infection.
His wing was worse. The membrane was torn, and at least one of the bones was fractured. He wouldn’t be flying for weeks, maybe months, assuming the damage could heal at all. His wing was also unusually hot.
She treated my wounds.
Why? The question kept circling back. She had no reason to help him. He had destroyed her equipment—he remembered that now, the large metal structure that had seemed threatening in his disoriented state. He had attacked first, and she had every right to leave him to die in the storm.
But she hadn’t.
“Look.”She ran a hand through her dark hair, a gesture that seemed to signal frustration.“I know you can hear me. I suspect you understand at least some of what I’m saying. I’m notasking for your life story. I just need to know if you’re going to try to kill me when you feel better.”
He suspected she was asking for reassurance. He opened his mouth to respond and was interrupted by a cough that tore through his chest and sent fresh waves of pain radiating through his body. The sound was wet and gurgling, and when he pulled his hand away from his mouth, his palm was speckled with dark blood.
Internal damage. The explosion did more than break the surface.
She was on her feet instantly, moving towards a collection of supplies in the corner of the room. She returned with a small device that she pressed against his chest, watching a display that faced away from him.
“Internal bleeding. Damn it.”Her voice was tight with something that might have been concern.“I’m not a doctor. This is beyond anything I’m equipped to handle.”
She was talking to herself more than to him as she gathered equipment and muttered comments. He watched her work, noticing the way her fear never quite overwhelmed her competence.
She is a survivor.
The observation felt important, though he couldn’t say why.
“Even with the painkiller, this is going to hurt.”
She was back at his side now, holding something that looked like a needle attached to a tube, and gestured towards his chest. He understood she intended to drain the fluid that wasbuilding in his chest and relieve the pressure on his lungs but understanding didn’t make the prospect any more appealing.
He could stop her. Even injured, he was stronger than she was. He could grab her wrist and prevent her from touching him.
But he didn’t. He nodded again.
She swabbed something over his ribs, something that made his scales tingle and go numb, then inserted the needle between his ribs. He lay still, gritting his teeth against the pain and watching her face as she worked. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, her lower lip caught between her teeth, and her hands were steady despite the fear he could still smell beneath her composure.
I trust her.
Trust was not something you gave lightly. It was something you gave your clan, your people. The trust that the ones who slept beside you would wake when you woke, would fight next to you, and would not abandon you to the cold. But his people were gone now. He could feel that truth like a hole in his chest, deeper than any physical wound. He was alone in a way he had never been before, surrounded by nothing familiar, with only this strange small female for company.
I have no one else to trust.
