A/N: Thank you all for reading! There's about four more chapters to go before this is finished.

…-…

Briggs edged up to the ruins of the camp, doing his best to stretch up on his stubby legs so that he could see over the rock he was hiding behind. While he doubted that they'd fled for more than thirty minutes, the route downhill had been considerably quicker than the way back up. Several times they'd had to wind their way through small gullies between the rocks and even went into a tunnel or two. During one such excursion into the underground, they'd heard the beating of wings echoing down one of the ventilation shafts of the cave. Briggs had wondered if it had been Anora, but Brett had hissed that if he tried to call out, he'd regret it.

As it was, it had been almost a full day before they made it back to where they'd last seen Samuel and their belongings. Though Brett seemed unphased, Briggs didn't want to be caught again and had walked the last few yards on his tiptoes, hoping that if anyone was still there, they wouldn't hear him coming.

"Your attempts at stealth are pointless. Any survivors left hours ago." Brett muttered, stalking past him. Char marks scorched the earth and Briggs plugged his nose as the smell of cooked dwarf flesh permeated the air. It stuck to his clothes and for the first time in his life he regretted his large nose. Brett didn't seem deterred by the carnage in the least. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He seemed to revel in it. The warlock caught Briggs watching him with reprimand in his eyes and frowned, reining in his glee. "We'll look through the wreckage, find your portal runes, and then you will send me to Ironforge and I will leave you to do as you please."

"We have to find Samuel!"

"You have to find him. I've no obligation to the wretch."

"I would argue that you do, Brathrion."

Briggs whirled toward the gentle, yet angry voice, only pausing for a second when he noted the way Brett's body went rigid at the name. Anora sat on the edge of the very outcrop where she'd turned into a dragon, her legs crossed at the ankles and swinging slowly.

For an instant, the vain notion gripped Briggs that Anora had merely had an illusion cast upon her, that she couldn't have truly been anything other than the simple elf he'd met before. Then the wind blew that awful smell to him again and he knew.

She really was a dragon.

Her form was different now, as though whatever spell Brett had cast upon her had affected her in more ways that just that immediate exposure. She slipped from her roost and sauntered toward them, clawed hands—much like Brett's—swinging at her sides. Briggs could just barely make out slip pupils behind her softly glowing eyes. However, even with the changes, Brigs found that she still had a gentle presence around her. She gave him a fleeting, sympathetic smile and then glared at Brett.

"I'll be willing to part ways with one as despicable as you and not hassle you with dilemmas of a conscience you clearly do not have, if you will hand over the reins."

For the first time—in the albeit brief time Briggs had known him—Brett didn't seem annoyed or arrogant. Instead, he was simply puzzled. "Reins?"

Anora's eyes gleamed brighter. "Don't be coy."

"I've no idea what you're talking about."

Leaping the last few feet, Anora gripped his collar. "You think we're stupid?"

"In a word? Yes."

With a scowl, Anora shoved him. As she did so, it occurred to Briggs that Brett wasn't afraid of her. Before Anora could attempt to re-rail her accusations, Briggs pointed up at Brett, dismayed. "You're a dragon, too!"

Both creatures stopped and looked at him. Brett's expression blanked for a minute and then he squatted down, lightly clutching the top of Briggs' head. "Yes, I am. Now, if you don't want to end up like these dwarves, you'll find your portal runes and—"

"You can't send him to Ironforge!" Anora cried out. She knelt beside Briggs, carefully pulling him from the other dragon's grip. "Listen. I am Anorastrasza of the Red Flight. We are charged with protecting life—"

"As you can see with the corpses littered around us."

"Just because I treasure life doesn't mean I will not defend myself."

"First it's 'protect', now it's 'treasure'. She's clearly making this up as she goes," Brett—Brathrion as Anora had called him—tried to drag Briggs toward him. "She probably ate Samuel. I'll cover you while you find your belongings and—"

"Enough!" Briggs shouted, darting out of both their reaches. He glared from one to the other before looking at Brathrion. "If you're a dragon—"

"Did we somehow un-establish this?"

"—then why can't you just fly away? Why do you need a portal?" Briggs crossed his arms and for the first time, Brathrion looked surprised.

"Knowing the Black Flight, he probably wants to devour the leaders of the city and send it into chaos," Anora quipped bitterly.

"No…look," Brathrion finally sighed. "My brother is trying to kill me. This form is harder to track than that of a giant flying lizard."

Briggs eyed him. "Why?"

"Because he caught me helping some gnomes escape from our brethren's grasp."

"He's lying," Anora hissed. "The Black Flight was corrupted. They don't help anyone now—"

"And the Red Flight harbors such Light-blessed creatures—"

"Compared to you, yes." Anora muttered a spell as Brathrion tried to argue further and his voice died on his tongue. As he gripped his throat, glared, and then began to carve scrawling symbols on the ground, Anora looked back at Briggs. "Listen, not so long ago, the orcs used awful magic to enslave my flight, the red dragons. We are free now, but there is nothing that will ever right this injustice." Resolution flickered in her eyes. "All we can do is ensure that this never happens again. That's why I'm here. We've learned that the Black Flight has created some type of enchanted reins."

A light flashed near Brathrion, much the way his last spell had worked. However, rather than interrupt, he stayed quiet, listening to the other dragon as she spoke.

"The reins subjugate the wearer, forcing them to bend to the will of whoever owns them. I came here to find those reins and destroy them before they can be replicated or used. No one deserves so ill a fate." She paused, paling a little. "No one…."

For a brief moment, silence reigned over them.

Brathrion was the one to break it. "That must be my punishment," he whispered. "My brother intends to make me a mortal's plaything."

"There's poetry there, I'm sure," Anora muttered.

"I told you I was saving gnomes."

"And I don't believe you."

"Why would I be punished for doing something bad if my flight revels in destruction and cruel actions as much as you think?"

Though Anora seemed stumped, she still eyed him, untrusting. "Alright, fine. You're a fugitive of your flight. He still shouldn't send you to Ironforge."

Briggs fell into thought as the dragons began to bicker again. Finally, he made up his mind. Casting a quick glamour to recapture their attention, he motioned to them. "If you help me save Samuel and promise not to hurt anyone, I'll send you to Ironforge." He looked at Anora. "And then, if you think I can help, I'll come with you to find the reins, so that we can destroy them."

Anora smiled gently as Briggs spoke, leaning forward to clasp his hand when he was done. "Thank you. You're a good soul."

Brathrion scoffed, but stayed put, the only indication he was willing to work with them.