A screeching cry resounded amongst the mountains, screaming into the ears of every living thing within a radius of three miles. Atalanta bolted out of a doze, slipping off of her makeshift bed and onto the floor rather painfully. "What's the matter? What's the matter?" she cried, desperately looking around with terror in her eyes. She hadn't heard a cry that full of pain in years. A shuddering thump shook the rock underneath her feet. She sprinted outside, into the dark, starry night, and cried aloud at the horrific sight that greeted her.

Kelerak was in his dragon form, panting heavily and bleeding profusely from a large, gaping tear in his hide just below his wing. His figure shuddered, and he shrunk into a withered version of the Kelerak she knew. He was graying and blanching alternately, and looked as though he were about to be violently sick. His side was torn open, a slash around the size of his forearm, and it looked as though the wound had been made by a spear or an arrow of some sort. "What happened?" Atalanta cried as she rushed to his side, sinking to the ground beside him while tearing her shirtsleeves into strips of bandages that she applied to his side. "Who hurt you?"

He coughed, spitting out blood. This worried her, making her think that they might have nicked a lung, whoever they were. "Search… party," he hacked. Atalanta stopped, her mouth dropping open in astonishment. They were this close? They were still looking for her? "Northerners… hate dragons… even… more than you people… do."

Atalanta's face was significantly crestfallen. "Oh." She didn't have words to express her disappointment. "Who… who were they looking for?" she inquired, not really caring, while applying pressure to Kelerak's wound.

"Some… northern princess… They are convinced… dragons… have something… to do with her… disappearance." He coughed again, and moaned for emphasis.

"I know you hurt!" she said, somewhat sympathetically, somewhat annoyed. He could be such a drama king sometimes! "And… wait, northerners? What did they look like?"

"Everyone looks the same to me."

"Liar. What color was their hair?" Atalanta rolled her eyes for emphasis. "You knew who you were looking for when you were looking for me. And you're smart enough to come up with a makeshift, impromptu prophecy on the spot when asked for a reason for just one girl. If you can improvise that much, you can tell me what these people looked like."

"Straw-blonde… straight as an arrow."

"Hmmm. Wait, no, but… hum."

"What?"

"Sounds like Jiani. Do you think, maybe, that no one was totally… aware of the fact that she was coming here?"

They both paused, thinking. "I have the sneaking suspicion that she cunningly persuaded her father to allow her to come here. And that the spouse of the person whom she replaced was not very happy when he or she realized his or her spouse was dead. This could be an interesting development," Atalanta concluded.

Kelerak nodded in agreement, and then punctuated the silence with another groan. "I don't want to be alive," he moaned piteously. "Kill me now, and go down the mountain to your friends! My life is over."

Atalanta rolled her eyes. "Grow up, you whining fairie child. I cannot abide people who do nothing but gripe." She poked him in the side for emphasis. He whimpered, and she stood finally. Striding into the cave, she snatched up a bucket and dipped it into the now-cold spring. Winter weather made things cold, but it would do just fine for her purposes.

"Oh, Kelerak!" she trilled, almost dancing out of the cave mouth. "Get. Up." The venom in her voice was affirmed by the dousing of cold water she poured over his face. "It's not as bad as you think." She exposed the wound once again and bathed that as well. "A shallow wound. Long, but shallow. You will be absolutely fine within the week. It is now washed and cleaned, and won't fester, thank goodness, because of this abominably cold weather."

Kelerak was shivering, his teeth chattering in the freezing air. "I'm sh-sh-shirtless and fr-fr-frozen. Wh-why would y-you p-p-p-p-pour icy spring water across my b-b-body?"

"To make you whine about something else, apparently," Atalanta sighed, realizing that he wasn't going to stop whining until she acknowledged that he might have been hurt. "Is da widdle baby aww wight?" she baby-spoke to him. "Ow does he want his tweasuwe?"

"Oh, can it."

"Aha! So you aren't freezing."

"No, of course not. Or, at least, not for much longer." He quickly grew to double, triple, and quadruple his original size. "Dragons don't get cold, not really," he rasped. When he saw Atalanta roll her eyes again, he commented on it. "You know, your eyes will get stuck up there. Also, doesn't that eye-rolling exercise hurt your face?" She threw her hands up and he laughed at her exasperated expression in a grating rumble that travelled down the side of the peak and to the search party. The searchers stopped, listened, and then quickly hastened on. They had never heard a dragon's laugh before.