The rider kept his word, waking her with a few hours left until sun down. Hal unfurled slowly, stretching her taut muscles with a lazy delight. Although that was merely a nap compared to the sleep she truly craved, it had been so…nice. The beautiful day, the cool grass under her. She had been under the mercy of nature itself, and she had gladly caved to its very whims and taunts. She had slept soundly, and she felt like she had more energy than she had in a while.

She arched her back, hearing it pop. She raised her arms, twisted at the hips before her eyes just managed to catch the rider watching her before he looked away. That's right, she had almost forgotten. She looked away as well, pulling her hair from its frazzled braid to re-do it. The twine lay in her lap as she ran her fingers through her curls, gathering the hair in her hands before she set about braiding it.

"Thank you," she said in a low voice, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes. "For saving my life."

"Think nothing of it," he responded quickly. "Besides, it was the least I could do…considering."

"It wasn't nothing," she challenged softly, rather insulted by his dismissive nature.

"I didn't mean…" Hal glanced over at him, seeing the frustration in his eyes as he stared out at the nothingness that stretched out before them. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?"

He looked like he'd rather not say, but Hal kept her eyes trained on him until he caved under her scrutinizing gaze. "I don't deserve your thanks, is all."

She pondered his words carefully, unsure of which conclusion felt the most accurate. So, she tried them both. "Because I saved your life so this merely makes us even or…because of your past."

He flinched at that, and she looked away again, becoming uncomfortable with the reminder that, for all intents and purposes, he was not a good person. She had more or less managed to keep that detail crammed into the back of her mind, not quite forgotten, but easily dismissed.

Hal sighed. "I can't tell you how to feel. But I am grateful to you and Thorn regardless. Accept it or don't, but it is there." She rose to her feet, checking the ground as she said, "We should also head back before it gets too late." She frowned. Where was her book? "Have you seen a —?"

"Looking for this?"

She turned to find her small book of sketches in his lap, his hand holding open the pages where she had sketched a small, rare bird several months ago. She felt several emotions at once, but the strongest one was extreme mortification. No one knew about her sketches except Denu, who couldn't even see them. She had kept them to herself, a hobby that sometimes felt more like an obsession. She loved tracking creatures, but the pure joy she felt studying them, and other wildlife on the island, was not something she could put into words. But it was there, in her sketches. Almost like a diary, as she poured hours of herself into carefully crafting each detail. Studying their movements and how they lived. He must think her mad.

She lunged for the book, confident she could overpower him, forgetting about his ribs. But to her surprise, he threw his arm up, holding the book just out of her reach as she collided into his chest. "Give it back!"

"I'm not done looking at it yet."

"Yes. You. Are."

He kept twisting and turning, moving beyond her reach with a noticeable indifference on his face. Suddenly his hand shot out and Hal was stunned when he used it to cover her entire face, boldly stopping her in tracks. His grip wasn't remotely threatening, but the audacity was enough to make her blood boil. Her voice came out muffled when she spoke.

"You kiss Denu with that mouth?" he asked humorlessly.

She swatted his hand away. "Go to hell. And did you heal your ribs while I was asleep?"

"I'm glad your concern came after you clamored on top of me."

Hal sat back, unamused as she watched him carefully read her notes. His fingers ran over her sketches and she clenched the material of her skirt. "I assume you did all of this," Murtagh commented, looking up at her briefly.

She nodded.

"How long does it take you?"

She blinked, unsure of why he was asking and unsure if she wanted to answer. But she forced herself to relax, hoping if she played along, she would get her book back sooner. "It depends on what I'm sketching. Obviously, plant-life can be a few hours, not including my notes of course. Animals and insects can take upwards of years, depending on whether they migrate so I can only track them during particular times of the year or if they're just rare and harder to find. I observe everything for several years though, studying their habitats and mannerisms for a more thorough understanding before making my final notes."

"Did someone teach you?"

She shook her head. "Just practiced. Some of my earlier sketches are quite horrendous. I've managed to re-do a few in my spare time."

"Earlier…" He looked at the beginning of the book and noticed how well done her sketches already were and reached the appropriate conclusion. "You have more books."

"Forty in all, about 100 pages each."

His brows rose. "You've captured 4,000 pages of the wildlife on this island?"

"I dream of one day going to the mainland, to see some of the creatures that may exist there. I think I've captured all I can by now here on Illium." Her eyes flickered quickly to Thorn, but she didn't dare broach the subject of sketching the dragon. She wasn't sure how they would react.

"Why don't you just go?"

"Oh, and I suppose it's just that easy?"

"Why does it have to be difficult?"

It was more than she was willing to say. She got back to her feet and gave the rider a sad smile. "We should head back, get you something to eat so you can continue to rest."

If he was disappointed or annoyed by her response, he didn't say. He nodded politely and followed her lead, but said, "Do you mind if I hang on to this for a little bit longer. I like looking at your drawings."

She blushed, unable to form a coherent response. Hal eventually caved and nodded her head, unable to meet his gaze as she turned, leading them back to the village in silence. For the rest of the night, whenever Hal glanced over at the rider, he was buried in his reading of her notes. Even as he ate or as she did a once-over of his recently-healed injuries, he didn't look up from the book.

"Where did you learn to track?"

The question surprised her as she cleaned up the area around them, trying to discard some of the old medicines, bandages, and put dirty linens in the basket. Hal looked up from her work and, after registering his question, continued moving around the room. "I started young. My father taught me. Then Denu, when he took me in, and then some friends of mine after him."

The silence was heavy, and she knew what question he wanted to ask next. But he must've noticed how she avoided his gaze, her body tight with dread, until he said, "Denu tracks?"

She breathed, quietly relieved. "He's very good, actually. You've seen a bit for yourself already, how keen his listening is. While I may never be as good, he's taught me much of what he knows. How to rely on senses other than sight."

Murtagh continued flipping through her book when he suddenly stopped, brows furrowing in confusion. Hal walked over to him and kneeled down beside him to see what he was looking at. "Oh, the print. I was actually tracking that when I found you and Thorn. You're lucky I'm as good as I am, any slower and you'd both be dead."

"What do you mean?"

"Thorn's prints of course. You certainly didn't make it easy on me, but I did manage to find you."

Murtagh look pained and confused. "This isn't Thorn's print."

Hal blinked. "Of course, it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes, it is."

"I think I know my dragon's print."

Hal felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she snatched the book back, swallowing past the lump in her throat as she stared at the image, committing it to memory. She had not thought to look at Thorn's prints…she had just assumed. "But…if this isn't Thorn's then —"

His face was grave. "Then there's something else on the island."

...

"I'm telling you, we need to seriously consider sending out a search party," Hal argued, trying her best not to raise her voice. But although it had not taken much to convince Denu of her concerns, the rest of the village leaders were another story. Especially Tengene.

"And I'm telling you that this is none of your concern," the man in question fired back, his eyes cold. He was only a few years younger than Denu, but stood several inches taller than most of the men in the village, skinny and frail in his old age. He was completely bald, his face free of any facial hair, making his harsh expressions that much sharper. "You have already wrought enough damage bringing that beast to our village."

"You're so backwards," Hal spat, her patience running thin. "I tell you that a heard of lovuk were only a few miles away from the village you claim so desperately to want to protect and you're more worried about the dragon who kept them off our soils!"

"Please, let's not fight about this," chastised Hondo, Sarah's husband and one who was usually like Denu, more moderate and patient about hearing Hal out when she came to them with various concerns and quips. "Hal, please do try to remember your place. And Tengene, Hal has not once led us astray when it comes to matters of village safety. If it wasn't for her, we would've flooded last year, and our crops would've died the year before. She deserves to be heard. Listen."

The man bristled with fury, but Hal was grateful for the support. It was not common for women to address the village leaders, all of whom were men, unless it was a life or death situation. And since that did not happen a lot except for what Hal brought to their attention, she was sure they were simply sick of seeing her at this point.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. She rotated her shoulders, trying to relax her tight muscles. The sun was high in the sky, and the inside of the hut where they were meeting felt stifling. Often reserved for important meetings and ceremonies, the structure was made up of wooden beams carefully dug into the earth to maintain their upright position. Rather than walls, there were reed mats, carefully woven and decorated with various images, the ocean, animals, and religious symbols, that hung from the ceiling to the floor. The ceiling was made up of straw, tightly tied together. On occasion, a bad storm would pass through — like last year as Hondo had referenced where they risked flooding from the river — and damage the ceiling, but the mats were always taken down during those times and preserved. They had hung there for centuries. But now, the entire place felt unwelcoming as Hal stood before the seven men that decided the fate of the village on important matters. Seven men who sat before her on the stage with various expressions of wariness and concern at her news.

"I have reason to believe that something is disrupting the usual patterns and nature of the lovuk," Hal continued, looking each man in the eye as she spoke. "We've lived amongst them for years and they've never come this close to the village with such violent intent. And certainly not in the numbers I saw yesterday." She didn't mention the giant print she had found. Didn't dare bring up something she knew would be met so dismissively unless they saw it for themselves, which they would never do. Or, like her, they would wrongly simply assume it to be Thorn's. She knew these men, even liked some of them, but they were…she was still just a woman. A hot-tempered, young, and unmarried woman at that.

"And you are proposing we send good men to go after these creatures, to wander into something potentially life-threatening?" Chijioke challenged firmly, his voice rather unsteady. He was the youngest of the group, only in his mid-thirties. He had taken over after his father passed a few months ago.

"I would of course go with them."

"Absolutely not," Denu said quickly.

"I can't ask others to do something I'm not willing to do myself," Hal argued. "Besides, I'm the best tracker we've got, I can tell the party where to look and what to look for."

"You're not going, Halen."

"And neither is anyone else for that matter," Ibrahim chimed in, jerking as if suddenly waking up from having dozed off. Hal rolled her eyes. "There are too many unknown variables, we can't ask people to run into something we know nothing about."

"We will continue to know nothing if we sit around and wait for the lovuk, or potentially something worse, to come to us."

"I'm sorry, Halen," Hondo said, his thick, grey eyebrows furrowing in sadness at her pained expression. "We do not have the resources to expand on such an endeavor. Not when we need all hands in the fields."

"So we do nothing, then?" Her voice was full of contempt.

"We wait," Denu said, a warning in his tone to remind her to check her rage. "We wait until we know more."

Disgusted, Hal turned on her heel with a derisive snort. "You're all idiots."

They shouted after her, furious, but Hal took off running, already forming a plan of her own. When she reached the hut, she barged through the door of the dining space and paused as the rider turned to look at her. "Heavens, I forgot you were here," she mumbled, angry that she didn't think to just go to her room instead. But she's lived and breathed the dining space for so long, running to it was practically second nature now.

"Words a person always hopes to hear," he muttered dryly. "I'm well aware this isn't my home, but a warning would be nice before you come barging in. I could've been indecent."

"Nothing I haven't seen before," she said dismissively. His eyes went wide with surprise and she rolled her eyes. "It's not that serious."

"Speak for yourself." He observed her carefully. "I take it they didn't take it well."

"They're all idiots," she snapped, as if needing just a single excuse to vent to someone. "Even Denu dismissed my idea. What's happening on this island isn't normal but apparently I'm the only one who has noticed or even cares!"

"Perhaps things aren't as bad as you think them to be."

Hal was already shaking her head, staring out the window and recalling the night where she had sensed something in the shadows. "This isn't right. They've lived such sheltered lives here so of course they wouldn't think anything is wrong. But my gut has never let me down. Something's wrong, I know it."

Hal crossed her arms over her chest and turned to find the rider staring at her, his grey eyes focused and unnerving. "What?" she challenged.

He shook his head. "Nothing at all. Only that…I think the old men may be right about this."

She gawked in disbelief. "You said yourself it wasn't Thorn's print. And he sensed something that night, you said so."

"I'm not invalidating any of your evidence — I think it's sound and cause for concern."

She fidgeted. "But."

"But, I think the right thing to do right now is wait. Especially you — don't go rushing off into danger because you think it's now up to you to do this on your own."

Her arms fell to her side in surprise. "I don't —"

"You are headstrong," he commented, rising to his feet, "you are capable, you are extremely stubborn and unbelievably intelligent. But you also care about people, even rude, dismissive strangers. Do not go diving off any cliffs until you are sure there are no other ways to achieve your goal."

His expression was kind, gentle even, and Hal looked away, embarrassed to receive such sudden praise. Only then did she realize that he had cleaned up his area, folded the blanket and set the pillow on top. She noticed he was dressed in the outfit she had found for him, simple linen trousers and tunic, with his own boots on.

"Going somewhere?"

"Indeed. It would seem you and I have reached the end our time together."

"Try not get so choked up about it, rider. Such emotion is most unbecoming."

He shot her a rare grin that she could not help but return. Feeling surprisingly sentimental at the thought of his departure, she held out her hand to him one last time. "May I?"

He hesitated just for a moment before nodding, allowing her to step forward. She lifted his tunic and ran her fingers down his chest and ribs, carefully probing and making sure there were no lingering injuries he may have missed. Her eyes gazed at the horrendous scarring on his chest and back as she worked, but she didn't dare comment on them.

His heartbeat was strong, his chest rising and falling in smooth, even strokes at last. She lowered his shirt again and stepped back, feeling foolish. It wasn't that she doubted his magic, but for so long, she worried he wouldn't make it through the night. And when he did, she worried he wouldn't make it through the next. And now he was about as healthy and whole as he could be considering the circumstances, and she was…happy.

"Do I pass your test?" But there was something in his eyes that eased her, and there was no malice in the question this time.

"I dare say that you do."

They shared a brief look, and Hal realized how all-consuming his presence had been these last few weeks. It would be strange without him or Thorn around. His arm moved and she tore her gaze away from his as he held out her book of sketches. "Thank you for allowing me to see the world the way you do. It is quite beautiful."

Hal cradled the book to her chest, stunned that her work had been received so…she didn't even know how to describe her emotions just then. But she was touched and proud. "You're welcome."

He nodded to her then, moving to walk past her, outside. Hal breathed slowly, counting the seconds that past before she quickly made up her mind. She followed him out, catching him just as he was climbing onto Thorn.

"Murtagh, wait!"

He turned — surprised to see her again and to hear his actual name — and dropped back down to the ground as she ran up to him. Before she lost her nerve, she said, "I know we didn't quite…get along. But regardless of anything that was said or done, I really am glad that you're okay."

His expression was pained. "I do not deserve your kindness, Halen."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. What's done is done. But rider?" He looked up at her. She hesitated, unsure if he deserved what she was about to say next. Unsure what it meant for her if she said it anyway. But these last few weeks, she had shared a room with a man who was believed to be evil and cruel. And yet all she saw in him was sadness and misery. "Whatever anger or hate you feel, whatever sorrow and despair that keeps you up at night…try to channel it into something good. Something productive. And when you do that, may you find the peace that has alluded you all these years."

She raised her hand to…she didn't know what. She quickly lowered it to her side, shooting him an embarrassed smile. "Take care, both of you."

"And you," he said in a low voice, his eyes distant as if already lost in thought.

Hal stepped back far enough to give them space, unable to help herself as she watched Thorn's wings unfurl. She sucked in her breath, taking in how the sun reflected off his gem-like scales. What a magnificent creature. And she cursed herself for being too nervous to ask for a sketch. Heaven knows when she'll see another dragon, of all creatures.

She shielded her eyes as the first few flaps of his wings kicked up bits of sand and dust, but she turned her head just as his powerful legs pushed off of the ground. Her eyes followed the dragon and his rider in awe, a small smile on her face until they completely vanished from sight.

It wasn't until later that night, lying in her own bed, that Hal finally noticed that a page in her book had been folded down, which wasn't something she did. She often used twine to mark her spot. Curious, she opened to the page and unfolded it, her eyes widening in surprise as she did.

There, on the last few pages of her book, were the most enhanced and beautiful sketches of Thorn. There was a full-bodied image on one page, a close up of his face on another, and a close-up of his wing as if it were open for flight. In Murtagh's own, surprisingly neat handwriting, he had gone through and made notes of his own, detailing the wingspan, claw length, how far his fire could reach, his weight, how big he could grow, and more. He drew arrows, wrote how dragons could communicate and use magic of their own. She devoured every word and image until she flipped to the very end and saw a note that he had left her.

Halen,

I am not very good with speaking, as you have probably already surmised — she snorted with amusement — but I hope this note will do me justice instead.

When I say I do not deserve your kindness, it is not a slight against you. The horrors of my past, while I am not proud of them, are still very much part of me. I hurt people. Good people. I have not atoned for my crimes. So, no, I do not deserve your kindness because of all of the pain I have brought to others. But I will selfishly accept it, because a part of me so desperately needed it.

Thank you for all you have done for me and, more importantly, for Thorn. It will never be forgotten so long as we live.

Murtagh

P.S. I hope you don't mind that I left a sketch of Thorn behind for you in your book. I know it wasn't my place, but it didn't seem right that you never had a chance to draw him. He would've been flattered if you'd asked. He likes you.

P.P.S. And I hope, one day, you are able to reach the mainland and that you find all the creatures and plants you desire and can sketch to your heart's content. More of the world deserves to be captured by someone like you. Someone who can see and make something beautiful out of something most would care little for. Your work is beautiful, Halen. Truly.

Hal laughed at that, unable to keep the smile off her face as she read his note again. So, she had been right, to some degree. There was pain there. She felt so conflicted, knowing she shouldn't so easily take his word for it, and yet unable to surmise why he would lie to her of all people. Perhaps she would never know, never fully understand his intentions. It also wasn't her place to know. She would take what she had been given and graciously accept it. But she would never forget this. The dragon or his rider.