AN: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm going to try my best to get back to posting chapters on a regular basis, but I seem to have hit a wall of writer's block, so I've been mildly dissatisfied with how the later ones have been turning out. Please give me some feedback specifically about what you like and/or don't like about this story, because I only have half of a chapter left pre-written and I'm at a bit of a loss on where to take it from here, and I'll definitely try to incorporate your interests if I can.
I'm begging you, please review! I'm not even exaggerating when I say that any comment, however small, makes my day.
Anyway, I'm starting to come across sounding desperate, so without further ado, I present you Chapter Six. Enjoy! :D
Cornice looked out at the bright blue sky, wishing it would snow. While the Sky Kingdom wasn't exactly hot, and the winds that blew through the canyons were cool and refreshing, it wasn't the same glorious chill he knew from home. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed the Ice Kingdom already.
But I won't be that weak, he told himself firmly. I made this decision and I'm not going back on it now. I'm not going to go back home—no, back to the Ice Kingdom. I'm going to make a new home for myself somewhere else.
He turned his thoughts to a more acceptable reason to wish for snow. His wing was still throbbing, and his overwhelming boredom was nearly as painful. A change in the currently blank blue of the patch of sky he could see from within the cave and the numbing cold would be equally welcome.
As if his boredom had acted as a beacon, Cornice heard the sound of wingbeats. He tensed, wondering who was coming, and glimpsed a familiar pattern of red and gold along the dragon's back as he glided down to the cave. Still, Cornice didn't relax until Ozone landed, his talons scattering pebbles in every direction, and Cornice could see his face. Ozone's markings looked fairly distinct to him, but the IceWing had never seen any other SkyWings to compare to.
Ozone wore a pouch around his neck, which rested against one shoulder, bulging slightly with contents—hopefully medical supplies.
"I brought you something," he offered, in a half-awkward, half-hopeful tone. It was only then that Cornice saw the vaguely bird-like object the SkyWing clutched in his front talons, which Ozone held out to him.
Cornice blinked at it a few times. "Is that food?"
"Yeah." Ozone glanced down at the piece of prey, like he had somehow forgotten what he was carrying. He had done the same thing when Cornice asked him whether he was a SkyWing, almost as if he had needed to check the color of his scales before confirming the tribe he had been born into and lived in his whole life. "It's a pigeon. They're pretty common in the mountains."
"Dragons can go without eating for a month," Cornice said, his eyes lingering on the offering. "You didn't need to bring me food."
Ozone shrugged. "Yeah, well, even if you can do it, it can't be very comfortable to go that long without eating. Why wait that long if you don't have to?"
Cornice blinked slowly, the way he'd been taught to minimize any visible reaction of surprise. Ozone, the dragon absentminded enough that he needed to check what kind of prey he had caught, that he didn't recognize an insult when he heard one, had thought to bring him something to eat—out of concern, no less. Concern for a stranger.
"Thanks," he said, realizing that Ozone was waiting for a verbal response of some kind. "For bringing me the pigeon, I mean."
"You're welcome," the SkyWing said, setting it down at Cornice's talons as if he had just remembered that the IceWing was injured and couldn't reach for it. "I didn't have a chance to come yesterday; sorry I made you wait. How's your wing feel?"
Cornice grunted. "Not much different than two days ago, for better or worse."
He studied the dead bird, prodding it experimentally with one corrugated talon. It was mostly feathers, soft to the touch rather than slick and waterproof like a puffin or penguin's. He supposed that made sense—there was no ocean here for miles and miles around. The thought made him feel strangely vulnerable.
He shook off the thought with a faint growl. He was never going back to the Ice Kingdom. He needed to just get over it.
As Cornice ate, trying not to think about the unfamiliar taste of the prey, Ozone opened the pouch he had slung around his neck and rummaged in it, eventually pulling out a few long strips of fabric and a bottle containing a foreign-looking substance. "Spark, the soldier in charge of running my base, is kind of paranoid," the SkyWing said conversationally, "so it turns out he keeps an unnecessarily large number of first aid kits in his cave. I doubt he'll notice this one's gone."
"Hmph," Cornice snorted. That sounded terribly inefficient to him. Were all the SkyWings as scatterbrained as Ozone? If so, the idea of them being fearsome warriors seemed laughable at best, pathetic at worst.
Ozone opened the bottle, and tentatively poured some of the liquid onto one of the bandages. Cornice noticed that his talons trembled as he did so, just a little. Was he nervous? But no, his voice was perfectly steady as he explained, "this stuff is supposed to help keep the bandage plastered to your wing membrane and keep out infection."
"Have you ever used it before?" Cornice asked.
"No," Ozone admitted. "I've been a soldier-in-training for less than a year."
Cornice blinked in surprise. "But you look older than me."
"SkyWings attend regular school until we turn seven," Ozone explained, "when we're supposed to start soldier training. It's not mandatory, though, so most dragonets these days don't end up training in the military at all."
"Then why are you a soldier?" Cornice asked, before his brain could process how insulting the question would probably come out sounding. But again, the offense went right over Ozone's head, and he seemed to genuinely ponder his answer.
"Because my mother wants me to be one," he said at last, his orange gaze meeting Cornice's blue one. "And I don't want to disappoint her."
Cornice nodded slowly. He understood that feeling.
"Anyway, can you open your wing as best as you can? I don't want the bandages to get wrinkled, otherwise they won't keep out infection as well." Ozone paused before adding, "That's what I've heard, anyway."
"Sure." Cornice unfolded his wing as far as the injury would let him, trying not to wince as he reached the limit and a fiercer bolt of pain stabbed through the constant ache. "That's as far as it'll open, though."
"That'll be good enough, I think," Ozone replied, stretching out the bandage and carefully lowering the wet side toward Cornice's wing. The IceWing held himself as still as possible, though he couldn't help the way he tensed as the stinging substance settled into the wound, and he let out a sharp hiss.
"Don't worry," Ozone said, blinking at him reassuringly. "It's supposed to sting."
"That's stupid," Cornice growled, glaring accusingly at the newly-placed bandage, but he supposed the SkyWing would know better than he did. Even if said SkyWing was absentminded and never seemed totally confident in what he was talking about.
"Do you want me to fix the dislocation now?" Ozone asked, once Cornice turned to face him again. "Or wait until some of the sting dies down?"
The IceWing thought about it. "Might as well get it over with."
Ozone nodded, his jaw tensing slightly as if he were steeling himself for the task. The SkyWing had his thoughts and feelings written all over him, the way only yearlings or younger did in the Ice Kingdom. Cornice felt a strange sense of contempt. It was none his business and didn't matter, really, how a random SkyWing would compare to his tribe's standards, but it seemed thoroughly degrading to be completely at the mercy of a dragon who behaved this way.
Oblivious to his resentful thoughts, Ozone took Cornice's wing in his talons and studied the joint. Cornice watched the SkyWing's orange gaze scan thoughtfully over the injury and could almost see the other dragon puzzling it out. They stood like that for a while, Cornice watching Ozone examine his wing, before the red dragon spoke. "Okay. I think I know what needs to be done now."
The words were far from confident, but the tone would have to be close enough.
"All right then," Cornice said, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to picture what the SkyWing would do to his wing or think about how ridiculous he would feel for having trusted him if something went wrong. "Do it quickly."
Ozone pressed his weight against the wing, and pain stabbed through Cornice's body, making a light as brilliant as sunlight dazzling on ice blaze against his eyelids. In a mixture of pain and fury, he instinctively hissed a blast of cold air at Ozone, but through the haze of agony he felt something click into place, and clamped his jaws shut before he turned the other dragon into an iceberg.
As Ozone reached up to wipe ice crystals off his snout, Cornice opened and closed his wing experimentally. Apart from the tear, it felt much better.
Cornice looked up at the SkyWing. "I'm sorry about your face."
Ozone was shaking his head and blowing smoke out of his nose, trying to shake off or melt the offending frost. The ice clinging to his red-and-gold scales slowly melted away and trickled in small rivulets down his face. "It's okay," he said, his tone a cross between matter-of-fact and wry. "If it hurt me, I'm too numb to feel it."
Inexplicably, Cornice fought the urge to smile.
"If your secret intention was to torture me," he told the SkyWing with as much dignity as he could muster, "I guess that makes us even."
Ozone snorted a surprised-sounding laugh. "I don't have any secret intentions. And I'll keep this in mind if I ever consider developing any. But keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better." He tilted his head to one side and poked his talon into his ear to scrape out a bit of snow.
"Thanks for helping me," Cornice said. "And for the food."
"I would say 'no problem', but I doubt my frozen body parts would agree," Ozone said ruefully, turning his head to empty the other ear, "so I guess the proper response would be 'you're welcome'. Don't mention it."
Cornice flexed his wings again, enjoying the lack of the throbbing ache.
"Oh—" Ozone added suddenly. "I wouldn't try flying again just yet. Your muscles will probably be sore from lack of use. At least rest here for a few more days so you can be sure you've fully recovered. And I can teach you some exercises to start using that wing again gradually so you don't try flying and crash into another mountain."
"Trust me, that was a one-time thing," Cornice snorted. "I'll take your advice if that's what it takes to keep it that way."
Ozone smiled a little at that, though he ducked his head as if trying to make his reaction as unnoticeable as possible. "I'd better go now."
"All right," Cornice said. "I'll see you tomorrow… or whenever."
"Whenever," the SkyWing agreed. He turned and edged out along the mouth of the cave, unfurling his wings. Then, in a single flap, he was gone.