The Black Collar: Chapter Fourteen

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Chapter Fourteen

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Alvaranox relished the feel of the wind against his body. To the dragon the winds touch was a lover’s caress. Currents of air brushed against scales, and teased sensitive wing membranes. The dragon’s wings felt every tiny current, every updraft, every faint change in temperature. He flicked his flight membranes closed to protect his eyes. For the dragon who‘d spent long years alone and many weeks in recovery, his spiraling ascent was nearly erotic. Wind stroked every scale. His life may be lonely but at least he had the wind to call his companion.

Gods. Alvaranox cursed himself. First he was staring at Kirra’s haunches, now he was getting excited by the wind. He had to find a female.

Alvaranox rose higher, then flared his wings and rode the currents. Fingers of air teased his scales, stroked his wings. Asterryl spread beneath him as he climbed, stretching like an old gray scab upon the otherwise green land. Even if the city had not enslaved him, it would look like a blemish on the earth to the dragon.

Why did the humans have to clear so much land for their homes? Could they not build among the trees? They should learn the Va’chaak, he thought. The lizard folk made do with simple structures built amidst the swampy forests and northern shores of the Lake of Teeth. Why did the humans have to build such sprawling extravagance?

Alvaranox snorted. At least they made delicious things to eat. The thought of food caused the dragon’s belly to rumble. Alvaranox grinned wide enough for all his sharp teeth to flash in the sunlight. Finally, he could hunt again. Not that he’d minded subsisting on human food for weeks on end. He’d missed the thrill of hunting live prey, the satisfaction of hot blood coating his tongue and still warm meat sliding down his throat.

Alvaranox dipped his right wing, pivoting in the sky. When he had his new heading, he beat his wings a few times, glancing down at Asterryl as it rolled beneath him. He spotted the main market plaza immediately. It stood out to the dragon even now. The place he’d first been collared. From above, the oddly geometric shape of the walls that surrounded the plaza was very apparent. As were the many other walls that once ringed the outer edges of the town, now long since incorporated into its design. Each held its own unique pattern and shape, its own set of lines dividing the town. It made the town look like some sort of puzzle box with oddly shaped rings to be rotated until they fit together.

In a blink, Asterryl was burning and the walls were laid bare in a series of charred black runes upon the land. Scorched lines drawn in baked sand. Alvaranox shook his head, hissing. He lifted his recently freed paw and grasped at the collar, tugging it back and forth. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the images to fade. When he looked at the town again, everything was normal once more.

“Stupid collar,” he hissed. “It’s not my fault if you’re broken! Stop sending me images like that. I’m not going to let the town be burned down. Unless you let me get killed, and that’s your fault.”

Alvaranox cocked his head as he flew as if expecting an answer from the collar. No reply came, and the dragon beat his wings a little harder, eager to be away from Asterryl for a while. Already his wings and his back were aching. Flight did not usually wear him down so quickly. The dragon hoped his flight muscles had not atrophied too badly while he was recovering. Nor was he used to flight causing his heart to pound so steadily in his chest. The minor heart chambers near his tail throbbed in echoing pulse. He really had been lazing around.

Perhaps Kira was right. He needed more exercise. But the dragon would sooner tell Kirra he was giving up wine than admit she was right about something.

It occurred to the dragon that if the collar was trying to warn him Asterryl was about to burn down, perhaps he shouldn’t leave. He snorted. Surely he could make it back in time to rescue Nylah and Kirra and Captain Crossbow. Besides, if the town were truly in imminent danger surely the collar wouldn’t even let him leave. It wasn’t as though he’d be more than a short flight away.

Alvaranox flew on despite the discomfort. The only way to strengthen his wings and return his body to a state of strength was to keep flying. Soon the walls of Asterryl were well behind him as Alvaranox made for the edge of the moors. He was not going too far, just far enough to find some wild prey. Though the dragon had no qualms about taking some farmer’s sheep, he wanted to hunt something that had lived a wild life. Let it die a wild death, and nourish a wild beast.

Alvaranox did not mind thinking of himself as a wild beast. In the dragon’s mind there was a world of difference between a beast and a monster. A beast was a creature who lived in the wilds, who freely roamed the land and often subsisted on other wild beasts. Dragons were simply beasts with great intelligence.

Monsters, on the other hand, were a concept twisted by humanity. To a dragon, a monster was anything who favored cruelty and death. A dragonslayer was a monster. Yet so was a fellow dragon who sought to burn humans in their homes. To a human, a monster was anything they feared. Dragons were monsters in their minds. To Alvaranox his kind were anything but. Dragons were beasts with minds and thoughts, but claws and scales and great hunger did not a monster make.

At least Nylah and Kirra had come to know that. The dragon smiled, fixing his mind upon his friends for a moment. Yes. He could admit that to himself. He was friends with humans. He cared little for everyone else in that festering town that stole his freedom, but he cared for Nylah and Kirra. Alvaranox had never really expected to come to consider Kirra his friend. It had taken ages for him to grow to trust Nylah, and years beyond that for him to come to call her friend. Kirra had managed that feat in a far shorter span of time. Were it not for his grave injuries, Alvaranox doubted he’d have gotten to know her so well. Yet she’d spent nearly every waking moment watching over the dragon. Part of him had come to enjoy her presence.

No! No, he had not. What was he thinking. Kirra was a kind soul, but a bother nonetheless. Always babbling to him, staring at him, drawing him with his heart laid bare…No! Alvaranox snapped his jaws. At least Nylah had the decency to keep her friendship to herself. Why, he had to go and seek her out when he wanted companionship. No, wait, that wasn’t what he meant. He didn’t want companionship from either of them.

Damn it. He was stumbling over his thoughts as surely as Kirra’s words tripped over her tongue. He didn’t need either of them. They could both get mounted. And Nylah doubly so for suggesting he was thinking such a thing about Kirra.

Alvaranox smirked to himself. Clever Old Lady. That was just the sort of thing a female dragon would have said to embarrass him. He sighed to himself, his thoughts drifting a little further from shore. What would life have been like if Nylah had been born in the body of a dragon instead of trapped in that frail little human frame? It was a question he’d pondered before. One night after too much wine he’d even posed it to her. She laughed it off and teased him, but once in a while he caught her staring at him in a way that made it clear she wondered the same thing.

Granted, she probably wondered what it would have been like if he’d been born a human. But Alvaranox knew it would have been better if Nylah was a dragon and not the other way around. Who wanted to be a human anyway? They were frail, had hair in odd places and smelled funny. Dragons were clearly the victors in whatever twisted contest the Gods must have held to decide upon the design of the world‘s species.

Alvaranox glanced at the earth to get his bearings. Acres of checkerboard farmland, clusters of red painted barns, and narrow dirt lanes stretched through the green hills beneath him. As Alvaranox flew on, the farms and roadside inns that sprawled out beyond Asterryl slowly gave way to emptier lands. The dragon had almost forgotten how beautiful the moors could be. In the sunlight, the gray rock ridges that capped so many of the endless rises shone silver. The many shades of green that coated the land seemed more vibrant than ever, nourished by the recent heavy rains. Long, low valleys were carpeted in color where receding waters left behind a bevy of wildflower seeds that quickly blossomed.

The dragon soon turned his attention from sightseeing to filling his belly when he spotted a small herd of prey animals. The humans called them mountain goats, but they called a lot of things a goat. Several different species in fact, seemed to be called mountain goats. Alvaranox called this particular species the three-horns. He’d picked the name up from his mother. They were delicious and plentiful in the moors. The name came obviously enough from the fact they had three horns, rather than two. They were covered in a layer of gray fur that was soft and thin in the summer and shaggy and dense in the winter. Two of their horns curled at the sides of their head, while the third arched back between them.

I want three horns too! Alvaranox smiled at the sudden memory of himself as a hatchling. His mother had brought back a freshly slain three-horn, and in his hatchling envy, he wanted a third horn for his little skull. His mother broke off the central horn and gave it to him. For weeks after that he carried it around and held the extra horn atop his own head, despite the fact it vastly outsized his own little horns. Back then they’d been little more than black nubs.

Look momma! Alvaranox remembered himself holding the big horn atop his head. I’m horny!

The dragon burst out laughing at the memory. His mother hadn’t known what to make of that one. Didn’t take her long to start laughing though. Remembering his mother first lifted the dragon’s heart, then dropped it to the cold pit of uncertainty. What had happened to her? It pained the dragon that he would probably never know her fate. If only he could remember the years just before he was collared. He had left home, hadn’t he? He was awfully young, though.

Alvaranox sighed and closed his copper eyes as he flew. He pictured his mother best he could. The image had been sharp in his dreams days earlier, but when he tried to recall it in his waking hours the details grew fuzzy. She was green. She had gold markings. Mottling and stripes. A shorter muzzle than he had as an adult. A curvier body, no spines on her tail. Love in her coppery eyes and a soft, kind look to her face though a human would likely never know the difference.

Alvaranox grunted, opening his eyes again. Time to stop wallowing in memories and self-pity, and fill his belly with something juicy and delicious. Nothing improved a dragon’s mood like flying, hunting, and feeding. Well, perhaps mating. Lacking any female candidates, Alvaranox would settle for food. He flicked his wings a few times, spiraling in a wide berth around the boulder-strewn hill upon which the three-horns grazed.

Alvaranox watched his prey for a few minutes, selecting his target. They all looked healthy and strong, munching on heathers, grasses and the sweeter, nectar tinted blue flowers that poked up between patches of stone. Alvaranox settled upon a three-horn that looked older than the rest. His fur was a bit shaggy despite the summer, his horns worn down from a few generations of battling for supremacy. Probably no longer the herd alpha. He’d probably lived a full life, by three-horn standards. Time for it to end in a dragon’s belly.

The dragon swung back around towards the hill and folded his vast green and black wings in. He began to dive, picking up speed as he hurtled towards the ground. Diving was exhilaration itself. Like flight, a full speed dive could border on eroticism to a dragon. The twisting feeling of controlled freefall, the sensation of wind rushing over every inch of his form faster and faster. Alvaranox would have roared his delight mid-dive if it wouldn’t have frightened his prey.

By the time the three-horns heard the dragon whistling through the air, it was already too late. Just as they scattered, Alvaranox flared his wings once more. He pulled up from his dive moments before dashing himself against the rocky hill. As he swept back up over the stony rise, he sank his claws into the back of the terrified beast. The three-horn bleated in pain and fear as the dragon yanked it off its hooves. The creature’s terror lasted only a few moments before Alvaranox hurled the thing against the undulating ridge of rock capping the rise. The creature’s skull imploded and its neck snapped, ending its pain in an instant.

Alvaranox relished hunting, relished killing his prey, but he saw no reason for them to suffer unduly. Though dragons were beasts, they were sentient beasts. They understood the concept of pain. Where a less intelligent predator may devour its prey while it yet suffered, Alvaranox preferred to end the animal first. For a lesser beast, eating living prey did not make it a monster because the creature did not understand. A monster was made when the creature understood that suffering and inflicted it anyway.

It brought to mind dragonslayers. A dragon slayer may plunge his blade into the more vulnerable parts of a dragon’s belly, twist it in his entrails. Did the slayer feel sympathy for the agonizing slowness with which he ended the dragon’s life? Dragons were not easy creatures to kill, and though humans had proven capable of killing them, Alvaranox wondered if any of them pitied his kind the pain they suffered in their last moments.

His own belly throbbed in sympathy and he forced the dark thoughts from his mind. He was out here to relax and enjoy himself, damn it. Not to think about Nylah or Kirra and certainly not to think about the men who tried to kill him. Or why other men had come to his town. Did they want Asterryl for some reason? If the attacks were connected, it stood to reason they were more than just the dragon slayers he first suspected.

“Shut up, Alv,” the dragon snapped at himself.

Alvaranox spun around in the sky, heading back towards the now abandoned hill where his kill lay. For a moment he considered touching down on the narrow strip of rock that snaked along the rise. Given his recent lack of practice landing, he decided against it. The last thing he needed was to have his hind paws slip on some moss. With his luck his hind legs would splay out to either side and he’d land stones-first. Alvaranox didn’t want to spend the evening in pain just for a trick landing no one was around to see.

As the dragon swept in low, he back-winged a few times, touching down on his hind paws first. He dropped the rest of the way down onto a stretch of grass and thick moss, then trotted to a stop. The scent of blood already hung heavily in the air, and the coppery aroma made the dragon’s stomach boil in growing hunger. He snarled in excitement, and bound to his kill. He took a deep breath, squeezed his fire glands and bathed the carcass in roiling flames. Heat washed across his sensitive nose, and the smell of burning fur and skin temporarily overwhelmed all other scents. When his breath gave out, the dragon flopped down on his belly next to his meal.

Alvaranox wasn’t looking to cook the meat, simply to char the fur from the creature’s body. Though he could eat and pass the fur if he needed, he did not enjoy it. For some creatures he used his claws to skin them, but when the fur was thin it was just as easy to burn it all away. Besides, it gave the skin the a delightful crispiness. Alvaranox sank his teeth into the goat’s charred haunch. Hot blood spilled over his tongue as he tore away flesh and blackened skin. The dragon groaned in delight, his spined tail sweeping the ground. Little wildflowers and chunks of moss were uprooted by the spines, but they seemed a worthy sacrifice in celebration of his first kill in ages.

Alvaranox wanted to savor the kill, but he lacked the patience needed. He was too hungry and had missed hunting too much to take his time. Instead he gorged himself on the meat, stripping it from the bones. Then he went for the creatures entrails, feasting upon its heart and lungs, liver and kidneys. He left the other digestive and excretory organs. Yes, he could eat them if he wished, but he’d always found them a bit distasteful. Besides, there were plenty of scavengers in the wilds who would happily fill their bellies with the bits the dragon left behind.

When the meat was gone, the dragon tore the goat’s femur away from its body, then ripped it from the rest of the ligaments and bones of the limb. He snapped the bone in half, and then began to lap at the marrow within. Alvaranox was careful not to cut his tongue on the broken bone. It wouldn’t be the first time. When he was a hatchling, his mother always broke open the larger bones of a kill. She’d smooth the broken ends down with a stone, and then let him savor the treats within. Marrow held a sweet flavor to the tongue of a dragon. For Alvaranox, it also held nostalgia, and thoughts of his mother. He did what he could to keep the thoughts pleasant.

When he was full, the dragon rose to his feet. He licked the blood from his paws and did his best to wash his muzzle with his tongue. He’d give himself a better bath later when he went to his island. For now the dragon had other priorities. Like laziness. Alvaranox stretched out in the sun alongside the nearly skeletal remains of his meal, and lay his head upon the nearest patch of soft moss. Tiny red tendrils were flattened out beneath the pebbly scales of his jaw. He rolled around on the softness a little, spreading his scent. Let all the beasts that came to scavenge his kill know a dragon had done the work.

Alvaranox ended up sprawled out upon his belly. It was good to be able to lay on his belly again. His scar still ached a little when he bumped it, but once he was comfortable the worst of the pain faded. He splayed out his wings, letting the sun warm the black-mottled green membranes. Soon the dragon felt his eyelids growing heavier, felt the post-prey drowsiness settling in on him. Alvaranox saw no reason to fight it, and let himself doze off in the wilds as he’d done so many times before.

When the dragon awoke some time later, he was pleasantly surprised to find it was not to the sound of a bell. Nor was it to the sound of a woman’s voice or crackling thunder or any other nuisance. He simply awoke from his nap when his body was ready. Ah. He’d almost forgotten it was possible to sleep until he woke naturally.

Alvaranox opened his eyes and found a small cluster of ravens already gathered around the remains of his kill. The dragon yawned and stretched his paws. His pink tongue curled in his muzzle. The movement caused the ravens to flap off a short distance, but it wasn’t long before they were hopping back to the kill again. That was fine with the dragon. The rest of the meat was theirs, if they could eat it before something larger came along. Already a few larger birds were circling in the skies above him, and something furry skulked between rocks in the distance.

“Good luck with all that,” Alvaranox said, grinning at the birds as he rose to his feet.

The birds squawked, flapped and hopped away. The dragon paid them little heed as he leapt into the skies again. Much as he would have enjoyed spending the evening out in the empty moors, he wanted to visit his island. He missed his secret hideaway. Hopefully it hadn’t gotten too overgrown while he was stuck in Asterryl. Soon the dragon ascended high enough to see the mirrored surface of the Lake of Teeth glimmering blue in the distance.

As the dragon flew the lake grew from a blue sparkle on the horizon to a vast expanse of dark water reflecting the blue sky. Rocky islands dotted the massive lake. Jagged stones lined much of the shore. As Alvaranx drew closer, he saw several fishing boats upon the lake. Asterryl had a series of docks where the town abutted a softer swath of shoreline. Nearer the docks, men were wading chest deep in the cold water, dragging long seines behind them to scoop up schools of small fish. The larger boats hauled in heavier netting, pulling up fatter fish destined for the evening market.

Alvaranox dipped a wing and pivoted away from the town, heading towards the center of the lake. His island was the largest of the many landmasses that speckled the lake, roughly in the center of the western end of it. Far to the north lay the distant shore where the rocks gave way to tangled masses of roots beneath ancient trees. Several rivers entered the lake there, and the land around them was thickly forested, wet and swampy. A few small, simple boats drifted near the northern shore. A couple of Va’chaak were hurling simple nets for fish. Alvaranox wondered if that was a skill their people had learned in their occasional visits to Asterryl.

The dragon began to descend as he neared his island. The rugged expanse of land was once capped by an imposing stone fortress. At one end of the island, a small swath of forest had taken hold where the stones were fewer and the earth was richer. The little beach that tipped the island once contained a dock, but the dragon had long since ripped it up and let the debris float away to prevent humans from visiting his home.

Despite the ages that had passed since the fortress had first been constructed amidst the jagged outcrops and cliffs of the island, enough walls remained to dominate the area’s silhouette. The curtain wall enclosing the old courtyard was still mostly intact. In some places the walls now rose higher than others where the mortar had crumbled and left little slopes of scree and broken stone bricks. Vines of bramble and ivy alike shrouded some of the walls. Towers that once watched over the island had long since toppled into the water. One of them poked up from the lake, the battered surface tinted green where algae clung to the wave-washed stone. The only tower that hadn’t fallen into the water lay in shattered cylindrical chunks along one side of the courtyard. A gnarled tree grew from a hollow in one stony mass while moss and thick, barky vines were draped across another.

Alvaranox circled his island getaway for a little while. From above the lines of broken wall that marked the island looked like some half-finished geometric design. It reminded him of the walls in Asterryl and the ruin where he was ambushed. The dragon smiled. The lines on the earth that humans built in their cities and fortifications were almost artistic. They held an odd sort of beauty that their creators would never even realize. Not unless they grew wings, anyway.

Alvaranox folded his wings a little, entering a gentle dive. Soon, he spread the membranes once more to slow his descent, sweeping in over the edge of the outer wall of the ruined fortress. He extended his hind legs and touched down in the courtyard. He trotted to a stop, hissing to himself. In his absence the courtyard had become quite overgrown. All around the place, thistles with wicked barbs now stood as if defying the dragon who came here to relax. Admittedly the purple and red flowers that topped some of them were beautiful. They were still a threat to his paw pads.

The dragon hissed to himself. He began to stride around the broken courtyard, using his spined tail as a scythe to down as many troublesome thistles as he could. “Damn nettles,” Alvaranox muttered. “Ought to have Nylah out here to do a bit of gardening.”

Nylah. Thinking of her made the dragon smile. She would like it out here. It was quiet and peaceful. There were plenty of weeds for her to replace with roses. Kirra would enjoy his island as well. It had plenty of things for her to explore and sketch in her drawing pads. In the small forest there were rare herbs and mushrooms that grew, and a beach for her to swim. Kirra would enjoy that.

Alvaranox scowled to himself. When he thought of his two friends, the island’s silence seemed empty. He shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking that way. He wanted the quiet, he wanted the solitude. Yes, that was it. He was a dragon, torn from the wilds and tied to Asterryl as its guard dog. Surrounded by humans who buried their guilt beneath false concern. The island had always been his refuge from that. A place to relax on his own, and remember who he was. To escape that false concern, to forget their lack of fear and respect. Here, in his solitude, Alvaranox almost felt like a dragon again. That was why he came here, wasn’t it? He snorted, flaring his spines as he padded across the courtyard.

He ducked his head into the semi-circular hollow beneath one of the broken tower sections. He flared his nostrils, searching for animals to chase off or devour. Seemed as though only the thistles had taken over. That was good. He didn’t want the island’s animal inhabitants to think they had free reign of the place.

The dragon spotted a small green lizard climbing a wall cloaked in vines. The lizard’s emerald scales blended in with the dark green, heart-shaped leaves. Only the movement of the leaves as they bent beneath the lizard’s weight gave it away. Alvaranox watched it stalk a strikingly crimson beetle for a moment. He scowled to himself when the beetle reminded him of Kirra.

Alvaranox half-expected to hear her chiding him for letting his home get so messy. At least that was one thing he wouldn’t have to worry about. He forced a smile across his muzzle as he let the silence settle in. Yes, it was lovely and quiet out here. A few birds chirped in the distance. Unseen insects buzzed from the treetops. And yet the sounds seemed empty.

For the first time he could recall, his island felt lonely.

All the years he’d spent in the midst of Asterryl, feeling alone among so many faces. A guard dog passed upon the street, granted an occasional pat on the head but rarely shown real concern. The dragon built walls against loneliness with biting words and fortified those walls with drink. He’d strengthened his heart with the knowledge that dragons were often solitary by nature. What difference did it make if he found his solitude upon the moors or inside Asterryl? Over the years he tried to bury memories of happy times with Nylah, and with other dragons. Nylah was aging and the other dragons were all gone, and he rarely wished to remember what he could not have. The walls that kept his loneliness at bay seemed to be closing in lately.

Scowling, the dragon pushed his way inside the room he’d claimed as his sleeping chamber, beyond the still-standing entry hall. It was among the largest rooms that remained intact, though it wasn’t much larger than his home in Asterryl. Alvaranox had no idea what function the room had once served, but over his years coming here he’d filled it up with trinkets and treasures of his own, as well as an entire hoard’s worth of stolen blankets, pillows and cushions. If anything his bed on the island was even more luxuriant than his bed back in the city.

Halfway through the entryway to his hidden home, the dragon paused. Aside from a few signs of rodents and animals roaming the place, it seemed almost exactly as he’d left it. Alvaranox peered around, his spined tail twitching. His many trophies still adorned the stolen shelves he’d carefully carried out to the island. Trinkets and reminders of his life adorned the room. For a moment his copper gaze lingered upon a pawful of blue and purple scales. Alvaranox’s heart froze, ice trickled through the dragon’s veins. The dragon could not breath.

He still had Rain’s scales.

Rain. He used to call her Rain. Her full name was Raynarilis, but he’d met her in the pouring rain. After so many decades among humans, their words were etched across his mind. Raynarilis loved the rain so when he told her what the nickname meant, she bore it happily. Alvaranox stared into his sleeping chamber, the ghost of her memory flitting about the room. Alvaranox could almost smell her scent. Perhaps it still lingered in some of his blankets and things, all these years later.

Nylah and Kirra knew about Rain, they’d seen her at a distance a few times. They knew her as Alvaranox’s most recent lover, though even that was ten years gone now. But they did not know how deep his friendship with Rain once ran. They did not know how close the two of them had grown over a short time. How happy they were together upon his island. Nor did anyone else know that if Rain was still around, she might have become much more to Alvaranox than a friend. Then again, she might not have. The worry he felt for her in the weeks after she left and never returned had slowly faded along the rest of the emotions he’d woven around her blue scales. Now her memory was nothing but another scar upon his heart.

Seeing her scales opened that scar, and images of her flooded his mind. Alvaranox stumbled out of the room and back into the courtyard. He flopped onto his haunches, gazing into the distance as though he could see through the broken walls that surrounded his home. Rain stood across the courtyard from him, hunkered down and ready to bound away. She smirked over her wings, daring him to chase her. To catch her. To mount her. Alv shook his head, and glanced up at the skies. Rain danced among the clouds. The sinking sun made her purple highlights glow. Her laughter echoed back to earth. Alvaranox blinked a few times, and she was gone.

Ten years now, Rain was gone.

In that moment, it occurred to Alvaranox that he was not going to find what he came here for. Seeing the scales of his last lover only reminded the dragon how empty his life was. How long it had been since he’d seen another of his kind. Alvaranox’s long throat tightened up, his copper eyes burned. He blinked a few times, fighting back the sudden rush of emotion that threatened to send tears spilling over his green scales. He did not want to sleep here alone anymore. He did not want solitude. He wanted companionship.

But he did not want to sleep in the midst of Asterryl either, surrounded by hordes of humans who did not care for him beyond the fact he kept them safe at night. Alvaranox bared his fangs, irritated to have his usually stoic heart tug so intently at his emotions on a day that was supposed to be joyful for him. He thought he’d missed this place and the gentle silence of it. Yet after weeks spent under the care of his friends, the silence was almost overwhelming.

His friends.

Alvaranox did have friends, didn’t he? They were not dragons, but they did care for him, and that care was genuine. The walls that surrounded Alvaranox’s heart were as broken as those of his fortress home, and he could not hold his pain at bay any longer. The dragon came to the island looking for peace and solitude, and he found only loneliness.

In the years since he last saw Rain, last saw another dragon, there were only two people he had come to find companionship with. Happier memories rolled through his mind. Eating treats in the market. Cuddling in the meadow. Watching Kirra draw.

Cursing his sudden softness, Alvaranox leapt into the skies on tired wings, heading for the Old Lady’s house.

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Nylah knelt in the dirt beneath her windowsill. She wiped beads of sweat from her brow with a gloved hand. In the hours that passed since Alvaranox left, she decided to finally get some yard work done. She recruited Kirra and the two of them spent the afternoon digging out ruined roses beneath her windowsill and replacing them with fresh, healthy plants. After that, they moved onto other windowsills and repeated the process. By late afternoon both women were covered in dirt and sweat, yet remained in high spirits.

Nylah eased back, sitting on her heels a moment. She wiped her hands upon her dirt-smeared blue blouse, the sleeves rolled up around her elbows. “Hand me that trowel will you, Dear?”

Kirra smiled and offered the woman the tool. “Here you are.” She leaned forward and patted the mound of dirt surrounded the base of the latest rose plant she’d put into the ground. “What do you think the odds are Alv doesn’t tear these up?”

“Not very good,” Nylah admitted, working the trowel into the loamy soil. Then she laughed, shaking her head. She’d tied her gray hair back to keep it out of her eyes. “But that’s why we’re planting so many. Even if he tears up a few of them, at least the rest of them will have a chance to bloom again.”

Kirra rose to her feet while Nylah dug the next hole, and fetched the juvenile rose bush in its little clay pot. She gently worked the root ball out of the pot, then loosened it up with her hands. They’d bought quite a few plants at the market once the dragon was out of sight. “That’s a wise idea. There’s only a few more after this one.”

“Good,” Nylah said, smiling as Kirra passed the bush down to her. “We should be able to finish well before dark then.”

Halfway through the planting of the bush, Nylah lifted her head at the familiar sound of wing beats. “Is Alv coming back already?”

Kirra shaded her eyes with a hand as she stood up to peer off towards the distant lake. “Unless there’s a second green dragon coming to visit our town, yes he is.”

Nylah scowled, tapping the trowel against her hand. “I hope he’s not hurt himself. He’s not bleeding is he?”

Kirra shook her head. Red curls swished back and forth. “Not that I can tell.”

Nylah rolled her eyes. “Then he’s probably come to demand a bucket of jam or a barrel of wine. He can fly and walk again now, so he can damn well go to the market and fetch it himself.”

Nylah went back to work while she waited for the dragon to make his appearance. It did not take long. The sound of his wing beats grew steadily louder until the wind cascading off the dragon’s wingtips buffeted the women. Dead leaves and dirt swirled in the air as the dragon landed. Nylah squinted, shielding her eyes until the gusts died down.

Without looking back at the dragon, she waved her trowel in the air, then returned to filling in the hole around the freshly planted rose bush. “All these years, and you still haven’t learned not to land right behind someone. Your wings cause awful gusts, you know.”

Nylah smirked to herself, though when Alvaranox did not immediately tell her to get mounted, she tilted her head. Her smile faded a little. What had brought him back here?

“Hello, Alv,” Kirra said cheerfully. “Forget something, have you? Nylah thinks you came for a bucket of jam and a barrel wine.”

“That does sound good,” the dragon replied. His voice sounded unusually soft, almost subdued. None of his usual smugness was there, and that was concerning.

Nylah set her trowel down, and eased to her feet. She wiped her hands on her black breeches, the dirt blended in better there than it did upon her shirt. She turned towards the dragon, and for a moment her hazel eyes met his copper ones. The dragon quickly turned his head away, but that single moment was all Nylah needed to see the pain in his eyes. His soul was as open and bare as she had ever seen it. The dragon’s heart was a lonely hole that he could not fill. Nylah’s face drew into pained lines. She took a deep breath, and held it for a time before letting it ease from her lungs. Alvaranox had always hated it when she caught him at a time of pain.

“I was thinking,” the dragon said, making every effort to hide the emotion from his voice. Nylah wasn’t sure if Kirra had noticed his sorrows or not. Beyond his eyes, the tells were small and well disguised and it had taken her years to realize them herself. Yet she knew well enough that some days, Alvaranox’s barrel felt so utterly empty. “That in all the years I have known you two, I have never taken you to visit my island.”

Ah. That was it. Nylah did not need the dragon to explain any further. He had gone to his solitary home and found the emptiness overwhelming. It had to be hard for the dragon. So many years had passed since any of them had seen one of his kind. All the walls he’d built to keep the loneliness at bay had come toppling down while he spent his convalescence with his only friends. The dragon simply hadn’t realized it until he found himself alone, and could not take it anymore.

“I’d love to visit your island!” Kirra bounced on the balls of her feet. Nylah grinned at the younger woman a moment. Kirra didn’t quite understand what Alvaranox was really asking.

I am lonely. My solitude has turned to emptiness. Would you come and fill the void a while? Would you share my secret place as my friend? Would you help me feel like more than some monster in a collar? More than some lonely fish swimming circles in a barrel. I don’t want to be alone right now.

Nylah knew the dragon would never say it, but the words were written in his eyes. She sniffed once, struggling to keep her own emotions in check. She turned away and made a show of settling the empty clay pots near the wall of her house. She did not want Kirra to pick up on what was really going on. She caught Alvaranox glancing at her, and she gave him a little smile.

“I mean, if that’s what you’re asking,” Kirra said, then gave a nervous laugh. “I don’t mean to butt in and invite myself if you’re only inviting Nylah. I know it’s a personal place for you…”

“You are both invited,” Alvaranox said, hints of hope mingled with wavering fear in his voice. Fear they would somehow reject him. The dragon quickly worked to cover his fears with a playful snarl directed at Kirra. “So long as you don’t break anything or keep me awake all night with your prattling.”

Kirra laughed. “All night? I thought you’d just fly us out there and back after giving us a tour…”

“If you do not wish to stay there, that is fine.” Alvaranox tossed his head. “I am awfully tired after all, I should not want you to bother me when I am trying to sleep.”

“Oh…” Kirra blinked, looking down at her feet. “I wouldn’t want to bother you, either…”

Nylah pursed her lips. Perhaps she had best interject before Kirra inadvertently spoiled it for both of them. She turned around and grasped Kirra’s hand, tugging her towards the dragon. She smiled at Alvaranox, her hazel eyes shining like loving beacons. “Kirra would be delighted to take you up on your offer, and spend a few days with you on your island.”

Kirra blinked, her face flushing as Nylah led her about and put voice to her thoughts in the way of a wise old grandmother. “I would? I mean, of course I would, if Alv wants me.”

“Perhaps it would be best,” the dragon said, licking the golden spot at the end of his nose. “Medically speaking. I feel someone should be looking over me in case I am not as healed as I thought.”

“You should always have someone to look over you, Alvaranox,” Nylah said. Her grip tightened against Kirra’s hand, and the younger woman gave her an odd look. Kirra’s eyes widened as she began to catch onto the subtext, yet before she could blurt out anything she’d regret, Nylah continued. “I should love to accompany you myself but I’m afraid after working all day, my poor old back is about to give out. I’m stiff and sore from head to toe and after a nice hot bath I’m going to crawl right into bed.”

Alvaranox stared at her intently, and Nylah met his gaze. Their stares were not defiant, simply understanding. To Nylah’s own growing joy, the pain in the dragon’s eyes eased just a little. Nylah was giving the dragon a chance to grow his friendship with Kirra, and giving Kirra a chance to be herself around the dragon again without feeling as though Nylah was judging her performance as handler.

Kirra looked back and forth between them a few times. If she truly understood what the two of them were thinking, she made the rare decision to keep her mouth shut. She eased her hand away from Nylah’s grip, and smiled at Alvaranox. Then she reached out to scratch his golden blotch, and grinned at him.

“I’d love to spend some time with you on your island!”

“Good,” the dragon said as casually as he could. “Who wouldn’t want to spend time with a dragon after all.” He grinned at the red-haired woman. “Perhaps in the morning we’ll go trophy hunting at the ruins where I was ambushed. I want one of those bastard’s helmets.”

“Oh!” Kirra grinned so widely it looked as though her teeth were trying to jump out of her mouth. “I’d love that. I’ve never been to those old ruins you talk about.” Then her smile twisted into a scowl. “As long as you don’t expect me to take the helmet off some rancid corpse. That sounds disgusting, but I do want to see…”

Alvaranox wisely cut her off. “And when we get back, perhaps we’ll go swimming like we talked about.”

Kirra laughed and nodded. “I’d love too. Let me just go and get washed up and get my things collected, and then I’ll be back and you can take me out there, or if you don’t want to fly me I can get a boat and…”

Kirra kept talking even as she turned and dashed away, heading for her own house.

“I am regretting this already,” Alvaranox said, lifting his spines a little.

“No you aren’t,” Nylah said as she moved forward to take the dragon’s head into her arms, and hug it against her body. “I’m sorry you didn’t find what you were looking for on your island, Alv. I truly am.”

Alvaranox gave a little sigh, and Nylah felt him tremble. “I had…forgotten. Rain. Her scales are there. I miss her, Nylah.” The dragon sniffed, and his green wings shook against his body. “I am sure she is gone. They may all be gone. I sometimes wonder if I will ever see another dragon again.” For the first time Nylah could remember, Alv’s voice broke. “I am so lonely sometimes, Nylah…”

“I know,” was all Nylah said, pulling the dragon’s head against her body. Never before had she actually heard Alvaranox admit it. For all the years they had secretly called each other friend, all the times she’d caught glimpses of the pain in his eyes, she had never once heard the dragon put words to his loneliness. Nylah eased herself down onto the ground, and Alvaranox slowly followed her till he was laying on his belly with his head in Nylah’s lap. “I know Alv, and I am sorry. I wish there was more I could do for you.”

“I know, Nylah.” Alvaranox’s voice was little more than a choked growl as he fought his tears. Even now, alone with his greatest friend, the dragon did not wish to give in to his pain.

Nylah leaned forward over the dragon’s head to rest her face against his scales, stroking him gently. She whispered into the dragon’s frilled ear. “Let it out, Alv. I won’t tell anyone. Just let it out.”

Alvaranox finally gave in. He knew Nylah would never tell anyone he broke down crying against her. She wouldn’t even tell Kirra. The simple fact she cared so deeply was all it took to push him over the edge. Alvaranox began to weep, and the trickle of tears soon turned into a flood of wracking sobs. Nylah wondered if this was the first time the dragon had allowed himself to cry since he’d been collared.

Nylah held him tightly while the Guardian Slave sobbed.

As the dragon cried, Nylah cried with him. Her own tears ran hot and wet down the dragon’s scales. She stroked his neck, and his frills, she tried to think of words to offer. Yet she knew the greatest comfort she could give the dragon was this. To simply hold him, to let him cry, to be there for him. To show him care and friendship and even love. To show him he wasn’t…

“You’re not alone, Alv,” Nylah said, a sudden fierceness rising in her voice. A strength of conviction enough to overcome her own tears. “You are not alone.”

Alvaranox slowly lifted his head from Nylah’s tear-stained lap. The dragon’s copper eyes were bleary and bloodshot, uncertainty swirled in them like fog above the moors. Nylah took his chin in her hands, and leaned forward to gently press her lips to the tip of his nose. “We may not be dragons, Alv, and I cannot tell you if you are the last because I do not know. But I do know that you are not alone, and you will never be alone. Kirra and I, we are your friends. We care for you, Alv, more deeply than I suspect either of us truly know. You know we would set you free if we could. Know this, as well. We are here for you, Alv. When you feel empty, and alone, when your heart can sink no deeper, seek us out. There is no shame in coming to a friend when you need comfort. Not even for a dragon.”

Alvaranox sniffed a few times, then lifted a paw to wipe his nose and eyes. “Thank you, Nylah.” The dragon’s voice was hoarse, but strength was beginning to return to it.

“You are more welcome than you know, Alv.” Nylah cupped the dragon’s cheek in her hand, smiling at him. She ran her thumb back and forth over the pebbly scales.

Alvaranox leaned his head into Nylah’s hand, sighing. He closed his eyes, murmuring. “Do you remember, years ago. Even before I met Rain. We’d both been drinking, and…we spoke of what may have happened, if we’d been born in different bodies.”

Nylah tensed up, swallowing. Her heart sank low. Just as she’d recovered herself, Alv was bringing up another painful topic. Some things simply weren‘t meant to be. “I remember, Alv.”

“If you were a dragon,” Alvaranox said, not opening his eyes. His voice sounded distance, as though he were speaking thoughts he didn’t intend for anyone to hear. “Or I were a man. I think I would have asked you to be my mate.”

“I would have said yes.” The words spilled from Nylah’s tongue before she could bite them back.

Nylah’s words brought a smile back to the dragon’s muzzle. “I am heartened to hear it. It is nice to know that even in this barrel, someone cares about me.”

“Kirra cares about you too,” Nylah said, rubbing the dragon’s head between his eyes. She scratched the sensitive area around the base of a ridged, black horn. She hated to risk ruining the moment, but they both knew they were on borrowed time. They could have this discussion at length some other day. “She is overjoyed that you have come to call her friend.”

“Not as great a friend as you, Nylah,” Alvaranox said, flicking his tongue over Nylah’s hand when she rubbed his nose.

“Not yet,” Nylah said. “But I think in time your friendship with her may be even greater than ours. She is fascinated by you, Alv, and you have clearly taken to her.”

“Kirra is…“ Alvaranox spent a moment grasping for words. “A kind soul. She has come to treat me like some friend in the pub with her, just as you did.”

“Faster than I did,” Nylah reminded him. “Alv, I am growing old.” Nylah’s voice softened when she felt the dragon tense up. He did not like to think about that. “Your life here will go on long after I have faded from this earth. You will be with Kirra at least as long as you were with me. Perhaps even longer. She became your Handler at a younger age than I. I meant what I said, Alv. You should always have someone to watch over you. There is a friendship growing between you two, and I want you to seize upon it while you have the chance. Some day, it will be Kirra you come to for comfort. You will have a friend in her for as long as she lives, Alv.”

Alvaranox sighed, and slowly pulled his head back. “I should collect myself before she returns. I don’t…” The dragon closed his eyes. “I’m not ready for her to know.”

“I think she already knows, Alv,” Nylah said, slowly rising to her feet. She rolled the sleeves of her blouse down and wiped her eyes with the clean sections. “You’ve seen her drawings. She knows your loneliness better than you think.”

Alvaranox pushed himself up onto his haunches. He hung his wedge-shaped head, his spines drooping. “I still wouldn’t want her to see me crying like that.”

“I know, Alv.” Nylah cupped the dragon’s chin in her hand best she could. With her free arm, she gently began to dry the tears and streaks that marked his green muzzle. “And you didn’t want me to see you crying, either, but I am glad you gave in. Sometimes even a dragon needs an emotional release. I can only hope I was some measure of comfort when you needed it most.”

Alvaranox lifted his scarred paw, and gently clutched Nylah’s smaller hand in his own. The dragon smiled at her. “You were, Nylah. You were.”