Chapter Eight

Pictures in the Stars

Sif had already told given Skandar directions toward Ilirea, and the grey dragon obviously remembered them because he quickly set out to follow the river that led toward Bullridge. Saphira fell in behind him, riding on the slipstream, and both she and Sif expected him to settle down into a steady glide once they were well on their way.

He didn't. Sif had never seen a dragon fly so fast. The weredragon kept his wings beating almost constantly, climbing higher all the time, until the ground below looked tiny. Trees became green blobs, mountains little brown mounds poking out of farmland that suddenly looked like a little patchwork quilt, the river snaking through it as a thin black line, like a piece of discarded thread. Sif had never flown this high. It was icy up here, and the air was thin.

Skandar didn't seem to mind. His flight was graceful as well as fast, and he seemed to be enjoying himself; he rolled lazily in the air, turning on his side and then over onto his back, flying upside-down for a moment before he righted himself and then executed a series of spectacular loops and dives. Sif could hear him whooping in excitement, and grinned to herself. He was colder and fiercer in dragon form, but underneath that he was still Skandar. Nevertheless, she hoped he'd fly lower soon.

He didn't do that either. He stopped horsing around before long and settled into more straightforward but rapid flight, heading directly Southward and using the river only as a rough guide. Saphira had to work hard to keep up with him, and after a while Sif began to feel nervous. 'What's he doing?' she asked, lying flat against the blue dragon's neck.

'Obviously he wants to get there fast,' said Saphira. 'The higher you are, the further you can go. I don't like this… if he hasn't slowed down by midday, I'm going to ask him to.'

Midday came. Sif, keeping close to Saphira's scales in order to keep warm, was cold and ravenously hungry. There was no food in her bag, and she'd missed breakfast. Skandar was still up ahead. He had slowed a little, but not much, and he was showing no signs of flying lower or stopping to rest.

Saphira had obviously sensed her rider's discomfort, for she opened her mouth wide and roared at Skandar. He roared back, but did not slow down. Saphira called again, but got the same response.

'What are you doing?' said Sif. 'Why don't you just talk to him?'

'I tried. He didn't answer.'

Sif tried reaching out with her own mind. She managed to find Skandar; his mind was distracted, all its attention focused on flight.

'Skandar! Skandar!'

There was no answer. Sif kept calling, becoming increasingly agitated, until she finally heard his voice.

'Hm? What? Sif?'

'Skandar, we have to-,'

The grey dragon lurched slightly in the air. 'What? What is it?'

'Skandar, you're going too fast. I'm hungry and Saphira needs to rest.'

His voice was dismissive. 'What, you can't deal with a little hunger? Is Saphira about to fall out of the sky?'

'Well, no, but-,'

'Good. Then let's keep going.' He sped up slightly.

'Skandar! I have to eat, damn it!'

'We'll eat when we get there!' he yelled back. 'I'll make you something! Promise!'

Sif sighed miserably and slumped in the saddle. She made a few more half-hearted attempts to make him slow down, but he was ignoring her now and she knew it was futile.

'Bullridge, then,' she mumbled, to Saphira. 'We can rest there. Saphira, do you think you can make it?'

'Easily, but can you?'

That stung her slightly. 'Of course I can! Skandar's right, I can deal with a little hunger. I'm not weak.'

'All right, all right. I believe you.' Saphira sped up too.

Sif held on, making a more determined effort now to resist the wind. She wasn't going to let herself look weak in front of Skandar. She'd show him she was strong, she wouldn't disappoint him. She could hold on until they reached Bullridge. At this rate they'd be there before dark anyway…

Time dragged on, and by the time Bullridge came into view Sif's stomach was actually painful. But she felt wonderfully relieved when she saw the town getting closer.

'We're there. Thank gods.'

Skandar was still ahead, but as he neared Bullridge he showed no sign of flying lower.

Sif managed to contact him. 'Skandar, we're there. We're at Bullridge. We can stop for the night.'

'We're not going to Bullridge!' Skandar called back. 'We're going to Ilirea!'

'Skandar-!'

But it was already too late. The grey dragon had passed straight over Bullridge and was already flying on.

Sif groaned and slumped over Saphira's neck. 'Oh no… he's mad! We can't keep going like this!'

Saphira had slowed down. 'What in the gods' names is he doing? Is he expecting us to fly all the way to Ilirea in one day?'

'That's how it looks. Gods, Saphira, I can't keep this up, I'm starving and freezing cold.'

'We could stop at Bullridge anyway,' Saphira suggested. 'I mean, we know he's going to Ilirea, we could catch up with him tomorrow…'

'But I want to arrive with him.'

'Why?'

'I don't know, I just do,' Sif said stubbornly.

'Well I'm going to put a stop to this right now,' Saphira snarled.

The blue dragon put her head down, braced herself, and shot forward, flying straight at Skandar. She thrashed her wings with all her strength, closing the gap between them, until she was bearing down on him.

'What are you doing?' Sif yelled, holding on for dear life.

'I'm going to catch him and force him to turn around,' said Saphira, and redoubled her efforts.

At first Skandar didn't notice her, but then he glanced over his shoulder and saw her coming straight for him. Instantly he angled his wings and made a sharp turn in midair, so fast that Saphira went straight past him at high speed and then floundered to go after him. Skandar was more than ready for her. He flew off with an easy flick of his wings, still heading Southward, and when Saphira went in pursuit he dodged her, rolling and looping and darting here and there, sometimes passing very close but always avoiding her talons.

After a little while, he started to make a strange sound – a kind of coughing, growling noise. Sif had never heard a dragon make a sound like that in her life.

It took her some time to realise that he was laughing.

Saphira made another lunge at him and missed, and he laughed all the harder when she roared her frustration at him.

Finally, Saphira gave up. 'Damn him!' she shouted.

Sif couldn't help it; she laughed.

'Shut up.'

It was clear that Skandar had won the battle, and he continued to lead them as the afternoon advanced and the sun sank inexorably toward the horizon. Sif finally fell asleep in the saddle; slipping into a shallow and uncomfortable doze with her head resting on Saphira's neck. She was only asleep for a short time, but she dreamed that her father was there; the carving on his tomb had come to life and was standing there in front of her, talking to her, trying to tell her something, but he was too far away and she couldn't hear him.

She woke up with an unpleasant jolt, to find that it was now almost completely dark. The sun was half down and they were still flying, and her hunger was now a great burning mass inside her. She was horribly stiff from being in the saddle so long, and there was a nasty taste in her mouth too.

Sif groaned and put a hand over her face. 'What's… where…?'

'I think we're nearly there,' said Saphira. 'But I don't know how we're going to see in the dark…'

Sif's heart sank. 'Oh gods. What am I going to do? If I show up there without any warning…'

'Don't worry,' Saphira said sourly. 'Just tell them you're in love with him, I'm sure they'll understand.'

'Don't be like that, Saphira.'

The blue dragon sighed as she let an updraught lift her a little higher. Skandar was still just visible ahead of them, but he'd slowed down a fair bit by now. 'I'm sorry. But I've been flying all day without any rest, and I'm tired and thirsty. And I think I'm the one who should be more worried. When the King finds out about this, I'm the one who's going to get it in the neck. After all, I was supposed to be making you act responsibly but I helped you abandon your duties.'

'I'm sure it'll be all right,' Sif said nervously. 'Look, we can be back there in a couple of days. What difference will a couple of days make? A few documents won't get signed straight away. What's so terrible about that?'

'I suppose you're right,' said Saphira. 'But I doubt the King will see it that way.'

'Well,' said Sif. 'Skandar's a dragon, isn't he? Some of the time. You know the King favours dragons. If one wanted us to help him, he would've wanted us to do as he asked, wouldn't he?'

'We'll just have to hope that's the case. Hey! Look!'

Sif looked around blindly. 'Look at what?'

'Oh. Right.'

Saphira sent her a mental image of the landscape in front of them. There, dimly visible amongst the blackness, was a spot of light.

Sif sighed. 'Ilirea! Thank gods!'

'I'll say. Just a little while longer, and we're there. And even if we're in trouble, at least you'll get to sleep in your old bed again.'

'Gods, sleeping anywhere would be wonderful right now.'

'Ugh, I know how you feel. Well, let's get this over with…'

The sun had finished setting by the time they finally reached Ilirea, and both Sif and Saphira had lost sight of Skandar. For a brief time it appeared as if they had lost him, but they found him circling over the city, still high up.

'There you are,' he said, on seeing them. 'Sif, is that the King's wood over there to the South?'

'Yes.'

'Thank gods, I'm exhausted. Well, I'll see you there.' He flew off.

Sif had expected Saphira to shout again at this, but the blue dragon only sighed. 'There he goes again. Shall we follow him or what?'

Sif settled down in the saddle. 'We may as well,' she said resignedly.

They made the last short flight to the mountain, and Saphira managed to land at the edge of the trees, where she promptly flopped onto her belly and lay there, groaning.

Sif could feel the dragon's aching muscles through their mental link. Suddenly feeling guilty over all the hard work Saphira had done on her behalf, Sif fumbled with the straps holding her bag onto the saddle and let it fall off onto the ground. Her fingers were numb, but she managed to undo the leg-straps on the saddle and slid off Saphira's back, landing with a painful thump.

Saphira winced. 'Ow. I felt that. Are you all right?'

Sif managed to get up after a few attempts, and rubbed her numb legs. 'Fine. Where's Skandar?'

Saphira lifted her snout. 'Up ahead in the trees somewhere, I think. I can smell him.' She sighed and staggered to her claws. 'Well come on. Let's get it over with.'

Sif slung her bag over her shoulder and limped into the trees by Saphira's side. Somewhere under the layers of tiredness and dull pain, she was amazed that she could keep on going like this. She had never been so exhausted in her life.

Skandar was waiting for them not too far away, by the bank of a stream that had been divirted through the forest from the Ramr river. He was still in dragon shape, and his sides were heaving, but he looked up at their approach.

'Hello… Sif,' he mumbled, and then let his head drop back onto the leaf-litter.

Saphira made no comment. She stumbled over to the nearest tree and promptly collapsed at its base.

Sif dropped her bag and went to her. 'Are you all right?'

Saphira covered her head with her wing. 'I am never flying again. Ever.'

Sif grinned and sat down against her flank. 'Well thank gods it's over.'

Skandar sighed and got up. 'My gods, I haven't flown that fast for that long in years. I'm dead-beat. Not sure I have the energy to change back.'

Sif glared at him. 'Well why in the gods' names did you go and do that anyway? Look at Saphira! She's exhausted!'

He grinned. 'Wasn't it fun?'

'Fun? Are you mad? I'm freezing cold, I ache all over, I haven't eaten a thing all day, and when everyone finds out I ran away from Gil'ead without even writing to Mother I'll be roasted alive!'

Skandar started at that. 'What? They're going to kill you? For gods' sakes, why?'

'No, I don't mean that,' said Sif. 'I mean I'll be in a lot of trouble.'

'Oh.' He relaxed. 'Well you don't have to write to anyone now, do you? Just tell them yourself.'

Sif lay back angrily. 'You're so annoying! Don't you understand? Thanks to you I'll be in all kinds of trouble. I'll be shouted at, maybe punished…'

Skandar stood up. 'No you won't. Sif, you did the right thing. Listen to me.' His voice was gentle, almost human again. 'I am going to talk to the King tomorrow. I intend to tell him that you saved my life, and that you only left Gil'ead because I forced you to. I'll take all the blame. He won't be angry with you; he'll be pleased! Because you brought me here!'

'And how do you know he'll be glad to see you?' said Sif.

'Of course he will,' said Skandar. 'I'm the last of a very powerful race. When he knows that, and knows that I came in order to swear myself to him, he'll be happy. You told me yourself he likes to be flattered, and I intend to flatter him a great deal. If you helped me come here, that'll make him forget anything you might have done wrong. He might even reward you instead of punish you.'

Sif started to feel a little better. 'Well…'

'And afterwards,' Skandar resumed, 'Afterwards I shall go to the city and introduce myself to your mother and the other riders, and I'll explain what happened and make sure they blame me rather than you. If your mother gets angry and shouts, I'll protect you. Trust me.'

Sif thought it over. 'Does that mean I have to stay here all night?'

'Unless you want to face them all on your own, yes. Now…' Skandar yawned and stretched like a cat, 'I'm going to need you to look away for a while.'

'Why?'

'Because you wouldn't like watching what I'm about to do. Trust me. I'll tell you when you can look back.'

'But what are you-?'

'You'll see. Or, rather, you won't,' The grey dragon turned and lumbered away a short distance. From there he looked back at her. 'Go on, look away. I mean it, turn your head away. I'm going to wait until you do.'

Sif obeyed. 'All right, I'm not looking…'

There was no reply. She head a thump from Skandar's direction. For a while there was nothing but ominous silence, and then…

Sif's eyes opened wide. She kept her head turned away, but it was all she could do to keep it that way. Sickening cracking and tearing noises were coming from behind her, wet-sounding, as if some living creature were being torn apart limb from limb. They increased, mixed with a desperate scrabbling of claws, and then Skandar started to moan. It was only very faint, but Sif could hear it well enough, and it was full of very human pain. As the horrible sounds increased he began to whine and snarl, almost wailing. Saphira too had looked away, but Sif could feel her own distress.

Her stomach was churning. She desperately wanted to look, but she was too afraid.

Finally, Skandar roared. It was a thin, strained roar that went on for some time. Then, without warning, it broke. The sound became higher, suddenly strangely distorted before it modulated into a human cry of pain. The noise of tearing and breaking stopped abruptly, and then the yelling stopped as well, replaced with ragged, gasping breathing.

Sif still didn't dare turn around. She stayed where she was, hands clenched, listening to the plaintive sound.

Finally, Skandar's voice spoke from behind her. 'You… can… you can look… now.'

Sif turned, terrified about what she might see. The moon was up by now, and its light showed her Skandar, lying sprawled on the ground in his elvish form, his pale skin appearing almost pure white.

She stood up. 'Skandar!'

Skandar groaned and sat up. 'I'm… all right. Just need a few minutes to rest. I hope that wasn't… too bad for you.'

'That was horrible,' said Sif. 'I heard… are you all right?'

'Fine, fine. Look, see? I can stand.' Skandar stood up, swaying a little, and staggered forward, covering his groin with his hands. 'I, uh… just excuse me a moment while I get myself some clothes.'

Sif blushed and looked away again while he fumbled with the bundle of things he'd carried with him. There was the sound of rustling cloth for a few moments, and then he said; 'All right, I'm decent.'

She looked back. He was wearing one of the outfits she'd given him in Gil'ead, but she suddenly noticed that he looked a little different now. His hair was long again and had turned back to silver, and his chin was bristling with black hair.

'How did you do that?' she asked.

Skandar peered at her. 'Well, I'm a weredragon, aren't I? Changing back isn't very nice, but I don't make camp so well when I'm dragon-shaped.'

'I mean your hair,' said Sif. 'How did you make it change back? And your beard…'

He touched it. 'Oh. Whoops.'

'What happened?'

'Well, I don't really know how it works, but… well my body remembers, see?' Skandar gave her a hopeful look, and then shrugged. 'I mean that when I change back into this shape, my magic remembers how it was the last time I was in it. I was tired when I changed this time, so I forgot about the brown hair and everything. So it looks like I've got my beard back… sort of.' He touched his ears. 'And my ears are pointed. But that's all right. I'd prefer for the King to see me as I really am, and there's no need for a disguise any more anyway.'

'I like you better like that,' Sif said shyly.

Skandar grinned. 'Having brown hair was nice, but I wouldn't have wanted it like that forever. Now…' he started to pace around the clearing by the stream, stretching his legs. He came to a stop by his bundle, and yawned. 'All right. That's better. Now, I'm going to go and get us something to eat. Could you drag some wood together while I'm gone?'

'Of course,' said Sif. 'But, look, can't we go into the city? I'm sure they'd be happy to give you a bed…'

Skandar wrinkled his nose. 'I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you. I'm used to sleeping outdoors; being inside makes me nervous. I never used that bed you gave me anyway.'

Sif remembered the surprisingly tidy-looking bedclothes. 'You didn't? Why?'

'Too soft,' Skandar said briefly, going to the centre of the clearing. He scuffed at the ground with his boot. 'Here looks like a good spot. Clear away all the leaf-litter, and make a ring of stones. We don't want to set the forest on fire.'

'All right, I know how to make a campfire, thankyou,' Sif said acidly.

He smiled at her. 'Sorry. I assumed you'd slept indoors all your life.'

That was actually true, but Sif was too proud to admit it. She went over to the spot and started to dig away the layer of pine-needles from the ground, exposing the dirt underneath.

'Thanks,' said Skandar. 'I'll be back fairly soon.'

Sif looked up at him as he started to leave. 'Are you going hunting?'

'Yes. I'll look for berries and things too.'

She looked him up and down. 'But don't you need a bow or something?'

Skandar grinned, showing his sharp teeth. 'Of course not.'

He disappeared, so quickly and silently that it was as if he had made himself vanish using magic rather than stealth. It gave Sif a little chill.

Saphira was asleep. Sif finished clearing a large patch of ground and then took some rocks from the river-bank, arranging them in a neat ring around the edges. It took some time; she was tired and kept fumbling with the rocks as she picked them up. Still, she knew it had to be done if she wanted to eat, so she kept working patiently until it was done and then started to gather wood, though it made her uneasy to be taking it from the King's forest. Still, she reminded herself, it wasn't as if he was using it for anything.

As she was stacking the wood inside the circle, Skandar came back. He was moving slowly and dragging the carcass of one of the King's giant deer behind him.

He dumped it next to the fire, and slumped down next to it. 'Phew! That thing's heavy! Never seen a deer that size before.'

'All the deer in this forest are huge,' Sif explained. 'The King made them grow.'

'He did? Why?'

'Because he's so big himself that he needs a lot of food. Ordinary deer wouldn't be enough for him. He likes it when people bring him food, too, though.'

Skandar rubbed his chin. 'Is that so? I'll have to take him something, then.' He looked at the fireplace. 'Good job! That'll make a nice fire. Here, just let me light it-,'

'It's all right-,' Sif began.

Skandar took in a deep breath and expelled it with a loud cough, and Sif leapt backward in fright as a black fireball the size of her head hit the heap of wood, setting it ablaze almost instantly.

She gaped at Skandar. 'You didn't tell me you could do that!'

The weredragon grinned back. 'Didn't you wonder why I'm so warm to touch? I've got fire inside me. Doesn't matter what shape I am. Now, just you sit down and warm yourself up and I'll start cooking this thing.'

Sif was more than happy to obey. The fire was ordinary yellow and orange now, but it burned strongly and gave off a lot of heat. She sat down close to it and sighed as the warmth soaked into her bones, soothing her aches and pains.

Meanwhile Skandar had rummaged around in his bundle of belongings and had unearthed a knife. He returned to the dead deer and calmly hacked off one of its back legs. Sif tried not to watch, but she couldn't help herself. The weredragon worked quickly and efficiently, as if he had done this hundreds of times before – which, she realised, he probably had. As the leg came free with one final wrench the deer's head flopped limply back onto the ground and she could see the bloodied bite-mark on its neck.

She cringed. 'You killed it with your teeth?'

Skandar was already skinning the leg and cutting slices off it. 'Of course.'

'That's disgusting.'

'Why? You eat meat, don't you?'

'Well, yes, but…'

'Well, it's not really that much different,' said Skandar. 'Anyway, how do humans kill their food?'

'We generally use knives and things,' said Sif.

'Hah, but you still do it, don't you?' said Skandar. 'Personally, I think food tastes better if you hunt and kill it yourself. These teeth aren't just for decoration, you know. Right, that's that done.' He had impaled several thick slices of meat on a green stick, and now jammed the other end into the ground so that the meat hung over the fire. 'That one's for you. I'll just do mine.'

Sif watched him uncertainly. She had never seen this side of him before. Now he was out here, in what was technically the wilderness, he didn't act like he had acted back in Gil'ead. There was no awkwardness, no halting conversation, no air of nervousness. He wasn't giving her that wide-eyed look any more. He no longer had that appearance of not knowing what he was doing.

But that was it, she thought suddenly. That was exactly it, and as soon as she realised it she felt a rush of understanding. Because in Gil'ead he had been uncertain and naïve and out of place, but now he was here… now he was here he looked so much more graceful, moving and speaking with an authority he had not had before. Before she had been seeing him in a place he didn't understand, where nothing made real sense to him. Now she was seeing him in his element, now he was where he belonged. Now she was the one who didn't know how things worked. Skandar had been right when he'd said she didn't really know him. She was seeing another side to him now.

The weredragon had finished what he was doing and now he stumped over to her, carrying something under his arm, and flopped down beside her, dropping his burden on the ground next to him. He yawned and stretched. 'Aaaah… ooh, that's better. My back hurts like you wouldn't believe.'

'I'm not surprised,' said Sif. 'That deer looks like it weighs more than you do.'

'Oh, well, I'm pretty strong,' said Skandar. He sat up. 'Would you like something to drink while we're waiting?'

Sif stared at the small barrel he'd brought over. 'Where in the world did you get that?'

'The cellar at Gil'ead, of course. I've got a cup we can share…'

She took it, still staring at him. 'What, you just went down there and helped yourself?'

'Of course. I thought you'd like it. Why, did I do something wrong?' He was giving her that wide-eyed look again.

Sif shrugged. 'I suppose not. What is it?'

Skandar had managed to remove the top. 'Smells like cider. Here, give me that.' He took the cup and filled it up, then took a quick mouthful from it. 'Yep, it's cider all right. Very good. Here, try some.'

Sif took the cup and drank, sighing happily as the warmth of it radiated through her body. The very best Gil'eadian pear cider, freshly brewed and wonderfully sweet. It was exactly what she needed.

They sat for a while by the fire, sharing the cider and resting.

'I can't believe you managed to get into the cellars on your own like that,' Sif said eventually.

'It wasn't hard,' said Skandar, pausing in the act of refilling the cup. 'I sniffed them out. I'm a hunter, after all. And it's much easier to hunt something that isn't moving.'

'Didn't someone try and stop you?'

'No. I can avoid being seen when I want to.' Skandar glanced over at the fire. 'Oh, I think the meat's ready.' He handed her the cup and went over to have a look. Sif was pleased to see him take the sticks out of the ground and bring them over.

'Here,' he offered her one. 'Careful, it's hot.'

She put down the cup and took it. The meat was slightly charred, but cooked and steaming, glistening with hot grease and giving off a wonderful smell. She pulled a piece off and tried it; it burnt her tongue a little, but it tasted better than anything she'd eaten before in her life.

Skandar watched her as she began to wolf down the rest of it, and grinned. 'Careful. You'll make yourself sick.'

Sif shook her head; her mouth was full. Skandar grinned again and started on his own helping.

The meat was gone all too quickly. Sif drank some more cider and groaned softly in delight. 'Gods, that was wonderful. I had no idea.'

Skandar swallowed the last of his food. 'Shall I cook some more for you?'

'Oh, yes please.'

He picked up the sticks and stepped around the fire to where the remains of the deer's leg still lay. 'See, this isn't so bad, is it?'

'Not at all,' said Sif, smiling a little tipsily. 'I love it.'

Skandar was busy sawing off more meat from the bone. 'You see,' he said, 'You showed me your world and now I'm showing you mine. This is my place. Anywhere where there's trees and soil and running water and deer to catch. And this is my feast for you to share. It tastes so much better after a long hard day in the air, doesn't it?'

Sif nodded. 'Yes. I was just thinking that myself. You're at home here, aren't you?'

'More than you know,' said Skandar. He glanced over at the deer's carcass. 'As for the rest of that, I think I'll give it to the King tomorrow. There's too much there for me to eat.'

'You could smoke it,' said Sif.

'No, smoking's a revolting habit,' said Skandar, and laughed.

Sif laughed too. 'Yes, that's what… wait, how do you know about that?'

'Is there any more of that cider left?' said Skandar, ignoring the question.

'What? Oh, yes. Here. Sorry, I think I've nearly finished this cup off.'

Skandar peered into the cask. 'It's all right, there's plenty in here.'

They drank some more while they waited for the meat to cook, and once it was done they ate it. Sif finished the second helping off just as quickly as the first, and Skandar was quite willing to prepare a third and fourth for both of them. By the time they were done Sif's stomach felt as if it were bulging with all the food in it. She lay back in the firelight, full and sleepy and utterly content. 'That was the best meal I've had in my life.'

Skandar refilled the cup with cider yet again. 'And you didn't even need any cutlery to eat it with.'

Sif giggled. 'I feel so wicked and uncivilised, eating with my fingers.'

'And keeping company with a weredragon can't be all that civilised either,' said Skandar, though he said it with a smile.

Sif watched him take a large mouthful of cider. 'You should go easy on that. Remember what happened last time.'

He lowered the cup. 'Oh. Yes. Here, you'd better take it off me.'

Sif put the cup aside. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything…'

Skandar sighed. 'I really am sorry about what I did. I shouldn't have. Biting that man was a dragonish thing to do. That's why… when you… I mean, later that night, when we… uh… talked, and I said it was too soon.'

All of Sif's contentment vanished. 'Too soon for what?'

He glanced at her. To her surprise, she saw he was blushing. 'Too soon for… what you wanted.'

'I'm sorry,' said Sif. 'I know I shouldn't have done it. I'd drunk too much too, and…'

Skandar nodded. 'It's all right. It's just that… I kept thinking about it today while we were flying. Trying to understand why I said what I said. It's not that I don't like you, Sif. It's just that… it wasn't right.'

'What do you mean?' said Sif. 'Because you're not human?'

'Yes. It's like – remember the story I told you about the elf and the dragon? It's like that.'

'I don't care that you're not human,' said Sif. 'I really don't.'

'It's nice of you to say that, but I think you're saying it too soon,' said Skandar. 'Maybe you don't care now, but you will. It will take a long time for people to come to terms with what I am, and I think it'll be hardest for you. Trust me,' he added softly, 'I don't think I've fully accepted it myself yet.'

'I understand,' said Sif, who didn't. 'It must be hard for you.'

'You've no idea,' Skandar mumbled.

'Well I can understand why you're not… why you feel the way you do,' said Sif. 'If you're not ready, then I'll leave you alone. I'm sure… well, you know.' The cider made her add, 'I won't give up on you.'

Skandar did not reply. Sif looked over at him. The weredragon had curled up on his side, his head resting on his arm, and his breathing had deepened. He was asleep.