Author's Note: Time for more dragon cuddling. This chapter is quite long, so lots of dragon cuddling and some dragon fighting. Thorn's story is going to be entirely dragon POVs, so that makes room for more dragon cuddling. I like dragon cuddling.

In the far north, where no Alagaësian map records, the barren tundra of Svellvöl meets an unnamed mountainous region. The mountains hosted bitterly cold temperatures, and the wildlife only consisted of scattered coniferous thickets and their inhabitants. Among the bleak landscape, A glittering red dragon toting a heavily bundled Rider and bulky saddlebags flies among the peaks of the mountains, leaving trails of fog with every massive exhale.

Thorn rode upon the currents of the wind, carrying partner-of-his-mind-and-heart-Murtagh, his chafing-old-saddle, and various supplies on his back, none of which were as heavy as they should've been. He was still bitter over his unnatural growth, partially because he still wasn't fully used to his proportions, causing him to underestimate his size at random times, and partially because he refused to accept anything that dead-dark-Galbatorix had given him. The accursed spell had been removed by Murtagh, but he could not de-age him without also de-aging his mind.

Their journey northward was long and tiring, but worth it, for neither of them wanted to be near hates-us-war-place-Alagaësia for the time being. They just couldn't heal there if they wanted to stay sane. But of the mountains, Murtagh did not seem happy.

More mountains… The Spine, the Beor mountains, and now this. Also, why is it so much colder here? Svellvöl has just as much snow.

The mountains must trap the temperature in.

Thorn's wing-arms were cramping, and the velvety-stretchy-webbing of his wings was burning with cold as his wing muscles required more and more of his blood, denying it to the webbing.

Noticing his wing-ache, Murtagh patted Thorn on his too-big-shoulder.

This is a good place to stop for now. See that mountainside? I see a divot in it that should provide partial shelter, at the very least. It's facing away from the wind at the moment.

Thorn had already eyed it out, and several other, less obvious options, but decided to indulge his Rider, because he had, indeed, done quite well for a human.

Your eye grows keener, Murtagh.

Thorn let some of the cool-dry-air from his wings, dropping toward the alcove Murtagh had pointed out on the tall-snowy-mountain.

He landed on the slippery-don't-fall-sharp-ledge, and saw that the alcove was not just an alcove, but a large cave that could fully shelter them both. He sniffed for bears, or any other creature that may have nested here, and found- what was that? He smelled the sharp-tang-scent of blood, but it was not just any blood, it was from a dragon. Inhaling deeper, he scented that a female dragon had recently arrived at the cave, while bleeding. Conveying this information to Murtagh, they both agreed to proceed cautiously. He heard Murtagh whisper "Wyrda.." and agreed, the chances of finding another dragon in the wilderness, at the one place they decided to camp, was next to impossible. Murtagh tensed.

If there is a dragon here, she is likely wild, and we can't guarantee that she'll be friendly. Be on your guard.

Thorn cautiously entered the cave, and he felt Murtagh readying a stunning spell in his mind, ready to cast it at a moment's notice. In the dim light of the cave, Thorn saw the small-hurt-dragon in question, she was less than a third his size, so she couldn't be more than a few months old. Her scales were bright-shining-silver, with a reflectiveness that Thorn didn't know dragons could have. But most shockingly, more than half of her scales were missing over her body, with dark-red-jagged-scabs in the place of them. A clear-globular-resin covered many of the scabs, its purpose and origin unknown. She was also extremely malnourished, her ribs showing and waist narrow. The female was only sleeping, as Thorn could hear her steady heartbeat, but when he nosed her cautiously, she didn't stir. She also felt cold, or at least not as warm as a dragon ought to be. Sharing his concerns with his Rider, who didn't have any more of an idea of what to do than he did, he circled the other dragon, as if he could get inspiration from looking from another angle. When no inspiration struck him, he tried lying down next to her, extending a wing to warm her. Through their connection, Murtagh felt surprised.

Bold, but kind. Look at Thorn being sweet..

Thorn huffed.

You lent your cloak to a tortured female in the octagon room. What I am doing is lending my wing to a likely-tortured female. I take after you.

Ah- but you lend your wing to a child, and I was purposely building trust with Nasuada just as much as I was kindly helping her. You are the better of us.

Do not pretend that you were acting selfishly. If you only wanted to build trust, you would have swayed her quickly with Galbatorix's tactics. But you were honest, and you helped her when you knew she could never be in a position to help you.

I- Thank you for your words.

Thank you for yours.

And so it was, this makeshift exchange, or ritual, if you will, of finding themselves that had repeated many times on their journey. They would take different painful-shameful-aspects of their lives and beat them out like iron being purified.

Thorn turned his attention back to the female.

I could lick her wounds, but that would tear the scabs.

I would leave them as they are. Even as young as she is, she can still hurt you, and we wouldn't want her to think you were trying to injure her.

Thorn nodded, a habit he had picked up from Murtagh during his hatchling days.

He looked down at the female, inspecting her closer. Strangely, her face was that of an adult, it had lost all of a child's roundness, as if she grew half as fast as was normal but her maturity was unaffected.

Her face looks like an adult's. I wonder why that is.

What do you mean?

It is much more angular than a child's face, and now that I am looking for it, her body proportions are those of an adult as well. It's like she matured twice as fast, or her size grew twice as slow.

Something occurred to Thorn, and he shared his thought.

And that's at the minimum. She may be centuries old for all we know.

You also said that her scales were shinier than normal. Do you think she is a dragon, or one of the offshoot species like the Fanghur?

For the most part, she smells and looks like a dragon, other than the properties we've mentioned. Now I am thinking, and I wonder if there are other races in dragonkind- she may be a dwarf dragon.

Murtagh chuckled at that, but Thorn remained serious. Murtagh seemed to consider it.

You said she was cold, right?

She's not as warm as she should be.

And we are in the North, where there is snow and ice. What if she is a ice dragon? We know that there is less prey up here, perhaps that is why she is small?

Thorn tilted his head. Would an ice dragon still breathe fire? Building off of Murtaghs idea, he said:

Snow and ice shine brighter than stone and sand. That may be an explanation for her scales.

He looked down at her again.

But not the missing ones.

I feel like that mystery would be better solved when she wakes.

Thorn grunted and twisted his neck to nose his Rider.

So we will still be setting up camp here, then?

Murtagh nodded and obliged to his prompting, unstrapping his legs from the cracking leather and sliding off.

I need to reinforce the enchantments on your saddle, it's beginning to show its age again.

Murtagh had removed all of Galbatorix's enchantments on his saddle after he was destroyed, for he wanted to take no chances. However, most of those enchantments made the saddle more comfortable to wear and ride, and prevented its age from showing. Murtagh had tried to replicate the beneficial enchantments, but with little success. The best he could do was keep it from falling apart, and the uncomfortableness of it prevented Thorn from flying too far at once without causing them both extreme discomfort.

Thorn laid his head down and watched his Rider incant over the saddle until he fell asleep.

Thorn woke with a sharp pain in his wing, and he quickly yanked it to his body. The female had awoken and was, apparently, spooked by the red, translucent covering over her. He knew Murtagh would heal the injury, so he didn't pay much attention to it. Looking bewildered, the small-silver-hurt-female leapt at him, but was too weak, from her size and malnourishment, to do anything more than scratch his scales. Being careful to be as gentle as possible, he used his red-too-large-paw and pinned her to the ground, easily holding her in place. After struggling weakly, she quickly gave up and went limp, as if she simply had ran out of will to live. After he raised his paw from her, she slowly pushed herself up into a loose crouch and looked up at him, still appearing as if she could collapse any second. Her eyes were bulging, and she appeared mortally afraid. She gave a strangely articulated growl that resembled a human or a dwarf cursing; it repeated over and over in her throat, as if she could not stop making the noise. He dipped his head submissively, to show her that he meant no harm. She seemed to pay his gesture no mind, and continued to stare at him fearfully. Suddenly, she bolted for the exit of the cave, leaping into the air and spreading her wings. However, her wings failed to flap, and she dropped like a stone. She let out a short screech as she fell, and he heard the unsteady thrum of her wings trying to flap at the air.

Crap.

Thorn rushed to the cave mouth and dove after the injured dragon. She had managed to slow her descent somewhat with her wings, but she was still falling too fast to survive hitting the ground. Though he knew he would endanger himself in the process, he flapped downward, accelerating himself to catch her before she hit the sloped side of the mountain. He came within reach of her in less than two seconds, and gripped her with all of his legs. Her spines dug into his underbelly, but he ignored the pain and spread his wings. Though they felt as if they were almost torn off when they took the weight of both of their bodies at the speed they were going, he was able to successfully hold his wings out. Their descent was slowed dramatically, and he directed their fall away from the mountain's slope. He was able to avoid the ground, but not the trees. He hoped that the female was as resistant to heat as he was and felt his fire-liquid collect in his belly. He released a wide blast of flame on the trees as he approached, charging it with more energy than usual so as to reduce the trees to ash before they hit. Thankfully, he was successful, and the trees offered little resistance as they barreled through them. He pulled up and leveled out, and feeling her rapid heartbeat through his legs and paws, he exhaled, grateful that both of them were still alive. He touched Murtagh's mind.

We are both alive, and I am carrying us both up now.

Impressive save. However, that dragon is probably going to continue doing stupid stuff until you are able to communicate with her. Try to establish contact.

While they flew, he tried to gently touch her mind, and she immediately responded with a defensive psionic jab that left his ears ringing and his vision dotted with white flashes.

This was going to be fun.

Umala woke to an ache covering her entire body, a stronger ache than usual, that is. However, she was very warm- hot, even, and it was quite comfortable. She lay there contently for a while until her mind became cohesive enough to question the temperature. Reluctantly, she cracked open her eyes, but all she saw was red. Her eye-ridges scrunched together in confusion as she struggled to comprehend what was happening.

In her exhaustion, her thoughts moved as slowly as thick blood draining from a wound. In her mind, she went through the recent events she had experienced. The small ones that stood on two legs had taken her scales again, but she had broken free of them and fell from their sky-den, gliding with her under-used wings enough to land in the snow safely, breaking some of her ribs in the process. She had found a hole in a mountain and lay down there to die, because she felt that she was dying. Was she dead? Was death warm and red?

Was she in an egg again? Was she reborn? That made sense, she decided. She shifted her position, and felt a sharp pang of pain as her broken ribs collided with the ground. Her ribs shouldn't still be broken if she was reborn. She focused closer on the redness, and saw veins and wing-fingers on it. She was being covered by a wing!

She sniffed the air, and smelled that it was a male that had a wing around her. She felt repulsed, because whenever she encountered a male, he would try to cuddle with her, but he was not family, he should stay away from her. Females understood that, they did not usually try to cuddle with her. When she refused a male, and told him to leave, he would not leave, and they would fight each other, getting hurt. This male had cuddled with her when she was sleeping, and she refused to allow that, even if it was comfortable. She tried to remove the exhaustion from herself and attacked the wing around her, feeling violent satisfaction as she tore bloody scratches in the canvas. The wing jerked back from her, and her body complained at the comparatively cold air now surrounding her. She faced the male to attack him and force him to leave, but froze when she saw the size of him. If being red wasn't already strange enough, the male was, by far, the largest dragon she had ever seen. No one among her kind could ever have eaten enough to grow to that size, the two-legged ones would only give them enough food to keep them alive, not enough food to grow. This dragon must be free of the two-legged ones, she realized, which meant that she must also be free- truly free. However, she could stand no chance against this dragon- if he wanted to keep her, she could not fight him.

But she would try.

She leapt at him, biting and scratching at his massive neck. But her claws only slid across his scales, and her biting could not penetrate his flesh. He soon pinned her to the ground, and his strength was impossible to resist, so she went limp, trying to give him no reason to kill her. She would rather be forced to sleep next to someone outside of her family than to die. Inexplicably, the dragon lifted his paw off of her, so she did her best to stand.

The sheer size of him made her want to curl up and block out everything until he left. How was she supposed to survive this? She was on the verge of death, she could not hurt the other dragon in the slightest, and he wanted to put his wing on her. If she allowed him to touch her, to cuddle, then he would think she would also allow him to sire her eggs, as her mother had told her. Her mother had later allowed a male to both sleep next to her and to sire her eggs, and she had died of agony while laying them, so Umala had no intention of laying any of her own. Laying eggs for a dragon this large would certainly kill her, or was that how it worked? Does a larger sire mean larger eggs?

She began to curse her situation repeatedly, unable to stop saying the words once she had started. The red male dipped his head to her, but did not speak. What did that mean? Was he trying to get her to comply so that he could make her have eggs? She had only one solution in her mind; to run. She stared at him for a couple more seconds, and when he did not move, she ran for the exit of the mountain-hole. She hoped she would be strong enough to fly as she leapt off into the cold air, extending her wings. To her great alarm, her body would not allow her to flap against the winds, and she began falling as they failed to catch the air.

She yelled her alarm and tried to flap more as she fell, succeeding only in destabilizing her fall. She then heard the boom of large wings behind her, and she was snatched from the air as red forelimbs wrapped around her chest and hind talons grasped her own hind legs. The male was stopping her from dying? He must want eggs quite badly. She felt his limbs tighten painfully around her as his wings slowed both of their descents. As they were angling down the hill, she saw trees coming toward them both, and knew that the male would not be able to stop or change direction in time to avoid hitting them. She prepared for death again, something that was apparently becoming regular for her. To her immense surprise, glowing red flame sprouted from the male's mouth and incinerated the trees. She felt her flesh slightly burn and dry as they passed through the wave of immense heat, but felt no impact from the trees. Her body was so lulled by the remaining warmth from the fire, the warmth of the other dragon, and the beating of his wings that she felt compelled to fall asleep right there, but resisted the urge. She focused her mind, preparing for whatever would come when they landed, for the male had begun to rise into the air with her in tow. After a couple of seconds of silence, she felt the strangest sensation- alien thoughts brushed her mind.

Fearing for her safety, she rebuked the thoughts with all the mental energy that she could summon, and she felt them retreat hastily. She felt a measure of contentment, for at least she could protect her mind, if not her body. The male's flight swayed when she had attacked the thoughts. Had those been his thoughts? She realized that she no longer wanted to attack him, she respected him for saving her, whatever his motives were. She decided that if she felt the thoughts again, she would not attack them, for they appeared to originate in the male that saved her.

Finally, the larger dragon reached the opening of the mountain-hole and set her down on the outcrop, landing next to her.

She turned her head towards him and thanked him, but he only responded with a confused look, he did not speak back to her. She dismissed his awkwardness and walked into the mountain-hole without complaint, it was the safest place for her right now.

That was, until she saw the two-legged one standing inside of it.

Umala froze, growling viciously at the two-legged one. They had found her? Umala saw none of their ships, so how had the creature gotten here? She then remembered that she was no longer restrained, and she could attack the two-legged one. So she did, swiping a paw at it, for even in her weakened state, she could still easily destroy a two-legged one. The creature spoke some words in a language that she did not recognize.

"Huildr du lam." (Hold the hand, (or paw, in this case))

Her paw stopped mid-swipe, as if held by an unseen force. She began panicking, for she could not move her paw from its position, no matter how hard she pulled. The man spoke again, saying "Letta". Suddenly, her paw was free again, and she scrambled over herself, trying to get away from the terrifying two-legged one. She fell flat on her side as her legs gave out from under her, and this time when she fell, she did not have the willpower to stand again. She moaned pitifully, wondering why the world was so strange and horrifying outside of the two-legged one's prison-sky-den. She should have just stayed.

"Hey."

She saw the two-legged one approaching her, and closed her eyes. She didn't want to deal with the world anymore.

"I'm not sure if you know my language, but I hope to tell you that we are not going to hurt you."

She did know its language, for it was the language spoken by the two-legged ones, and she had grown up around them. That was a stupid question to ask.

"If you understand, can you blink your eyes?"

She wondered if letting him know that she could understand him would be harmful, but shooed her caution away; she was curious as to what he would say. So, she opened her eyes and blinked, keeping her eyes open afterwards.

The two-legged one spoke again, and she noticed that his voice was not as gruff as her captors, nor did he speak to her as if she were an idiot.

"I am glad for that. Now, you probably know this, but you are dying. I have used magic to see what is wrong with you, and your inside is bleeding, your bones are broken, you are starving and dehydrated, you are sleep deprived, and your skin is torn. Now, we can help you, but we need you to cooperate. If you run away or try and attack us again, you will only be hurting yourself. I can heal your skin, bones, and insides now, Thorn can bring food and cure water, and you can rest. Thorn is the red dragon, if you haven't figured that out, and I am Murtagh. We don't know why you are hurt like this, but that is a question to answer once you are healthy again."

She must be dead, or dreaming. What the two-legged one, Murtagh, offered seemed impossible, but he had stopped her paw without touching it, so perhaps he could heal her as well. She did not know why Murtagh and Thorn were working together, that seemed preposterous, or helping her, but she was too tired to be suspicious. She blinked again at Murtagh.

"Does that mean you agree?"

She blinked yet again.

"That's good. How about this: one blink is yes, and two blinks is no."

In this new simple language, she responded with 'yes'.

"Then, we will get to work, I will heal you first, and then Thorn will cure water and hunt for you."

Murtagh began to speak in his strange language, and as he spoke, Umala felt her body mending. Aches and nausea left her, her bones restructured, and her broken and bruised flesh healed and reknit. By the end of it, Murtagh looked pale and was shaking, and she heard Thorn utter a shuddering breath behind her.

Healing her hurt them? That made sense, for life can not come from nowhere; her mother had died while giving life. Umala, feeling much healthier now, stood and moved to where she could see Thorn and Murtagh. Now that she had the ability to pay attention, she noticed that Thorn had a different facial structure than other males she had seen. His pearl-white horns were straight and faced backward instead of forward, his eyes were slightly larger, and small, claw-like protrusions were visible on his cheeks. She thought that his eyes looked uneven for a second, but then realized that it was the angle she was seeing him at.

Murtagh also looked and smelled slightly different than the two-legged ones that she knew. His clothes were made from some kind of smooth fabric combined with brown,

heavy furs instead of layered deer pelts, his skin was brighter, his hair was black and straight, and he had slightly pointed ears instead of fully rounded ones. He smelled strongly of dragon, and while that was nothing unique in itself, he smelled of affection, not fear and pain. His own scent was also not fully like that of the others- he did not stink as badly.

She watched Murtagh look at Thorn, and without making a noise, Thorn turned away from her and began digging into the stone near the entrance of the cave. When he had created a sizable divot in the ground, he shot flame at it with his mouth, and Umala wondered how he could do that. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that he was fully healthy, and none among the dragons she knew were.

When the stream of flame ended, the hole was glowing red-hot, and it flowed slowly like a thick liquid. He scooped snow from outside into the divot, and steam rose into the air. He continued putting snow into it until it was filled with steaming water and the stone had stopped glowing.

She heard Murtagh's voice sound from beside her.

"Thorn says that it is ready to drink now, but the water is very hot. If you are the same kind of dragon as he is, then the water will not burn you. However, we believe that you may be a different race of dragon, based on your size, scent, scales, and location. I can explain that to you when Thorn is out hunting, if you like."

She saw Thorn glare at him, and Murtagh wrapped up his monologue.

"But our point is that we advise you to be cautious with the water."

What was strange was that Thorn did not speak to Murtagh, and yet Murtagh said that Thorn had said something. Remembering his confusion when she had spoken to him earlier and his thoughts brushing hers when they flew, she pieced together that he may not speak verbally as she did, but with his mind.

To test her theory, she spoke to Thorn again.

"Do you speak?"

Thorn was silent, and glanced at Murtagh.

Murtagh spoke to her.

"You have a spoken language, don't you?"

'Yes'

"Thorn does not know this language. The dragons from where we are native speak psychically, not verbally. We assumed that you could as well because you had psychically defended yourself against Thorn with a great deal of strength. Did you know that dragons could communicate psychically?"

Umala guessed that psychically meant mentally, and responded with 'no'. Her body then reminded her that while her curiosity was sated, her thirst was not. She walked to the pool of water Thorn had made and thrust her head into it, scorching the inside of her mouth partially but warming her face pleasantly. Ignoring the burning, she gulped down the water until she could bear to drink no more, and she sat contently next to the hole when she was finished. She saw that Thorn had already left, but Murtagh was still there. He was sitting now as well, but in a two-legged way.

"Thorn left to go hunt, as I am sure you noticed. He's not acting as he usually does- I believe that he is unsure how to act around you. He is shy, believe it or not. Anyway, I think that now is a good time to talk, unless you want to sleep until Thorn returns. I'd give him about ten minutes before he massacres the local wildlife population and carries half of it back. Yes to talk, no to sleep."

Umala found no point in sleeping for that short of a time, so she decided to talk with Murtagh.

'Yes'

"Good- because I have little else to do. Let's see.. How about this: yes to talk about what happened to you, no to talk about why we think you are another race of dragon, although I think you can guess, one claw-tap to talk about Thorn and I, two taps for you to try and teach us your language, and three taps for us to try and establish psychic contact with you. Don't make any decisions based on whether Thorn is here or not, because we share our thoughts."

That was interesting, psychic communication can take place over a great distance? That would have been very useful during her captivity. She decided that establishing psychic communication would make all of the other things exponentially easier, and tapped her claw on the ground three times.

"That is a good choice. I will need you to be cautious, however, if you lash out with the strength you did to Thorn, it will kill me- I have a weaker mind than a dragon. Thorn would try to shield me, but that isn't guaranteed to save me. Do you think you can avoid attacking me?"

He trusted her enough to put his life under her control?

'Yes'

"Ok then, I will try to touch your mind now. If you do not resist it, I will be able to talk to you, and then we can work on you talking to me."

'Yes'

Moments later, she felt outside thoughts brush against hers. Rather than lashing out,

She accepted them, and felt the mind-state of Murtagh through a mental sense that she didn't even know she had until then. He was curious and tired, and he was relieved that he had been able to heal her. There was also something else in his mind, a twisted kind of pain in the corners of his consciousness. She felt Murtagh's voice in her mind.

You can hear me?

She noticed the way he had formed the words with his mind, and decided to try and skip a step. She focused on her message as she formed it, and pushed it through the connection.

Yes, can you hear me?

Murtagh's face went rigid, and he repeated her message aloud, even trying to mimic her voice. He then groaned and took his head in his hands.

Yes, I heard you, but you don't have to focus that hard on it. Try being more gentle with it.

She felt a pang of regret, and this time, she sent her message through, not pushing it.

I am sorry. Is this better?

Her mental voice was different from her actual voice- her mind had taken what she knew about two-legged female voices and matched it to her own voice. She didn't understand how or why, but the new voice sounded just like her, even though it was not her real voice.

Murtagh didn't wince this time. Instead, he smiled.

Good job- you learn fast. Do you want to try to initiate contact this time?

Yes.

He rubbed his temples one more time before dropping his hands to his lap and muttering more words in his magic language.

"Letta du verkr unin iet hugr, mar ach néiat moi iet manin."

His face lost its grimace, and Umala felt the pain drain from his mind-state.

Now, reaching out with your thoughts is hard to explain with words, so I will show you.

He shared the memory of him reaching out with his mind to her earlier, and her ears perked subconsciously; memories can be shared? That is interesting.

Ready? I am going to pull back now, and you will try to connect with my mind.

Yes.

She felt his thoughts recede from her, and she tried to recall the memory that had just been shared with her. As was demonstrated, she stepped out of the boundary of her own mind- reaching it out. She felt hundreds of minds around her- insects living in this cave, wildlife in nearby thickets, and, the largest presences, Thorn and Murtagh. The range of her mind extended for miles, and the sensory information threatened to overwhelm her.

Remembering her task, she focused on Murtagh's mind and entered it, feeling a slight resistance as she did so. She saw his memories, and proactively looked through a couple of his more recent ones to determine if he had ulterior motives. He did not. She felt his voice in her mind.

Good job, but why did you break my barriers? I thought that you understood that we were trying to be gentle.

Barriers? She didn't remember encountering any of those.

I did not know that there were barriers. I was trying to be gentle.

Well… You didn't hurt me, so that's an improvement, but I don't understand why you didn't even feel barriers. I can block Thorn out with varying success when we train, and even that may be because we are mentally bonded. Your mind must be very strong. How old are you, by the way?

Umala had kept count of the days ever since she was one-hundred-thirty-two days old, the day that her mother had informed her that she was one-hundred-thirty-two days old, and the keeping of time had piqued her interest.

I am two-thousand-six-hundred-seventy-four days old.

Um- one second.

She felt his mind doing calculations, and he eventually arrived at a solution.

So, you are about seven years old- which means that you are even smaller for your age than we thought. Thorn could smell that you were an adult, but he was confused because you are the size of an adolescent.

It occurred to her that Murtagh probably hadn't wanted that exact amount of her age, but she had wanted to be fully truthful.

How old is Thorn?

He is about two years old, but some of his growth is due to it being magically accelerated in the past.

Umala was blown away, she was, indeed, very small. Perhaps if she ate more, she would grow to be normally sized.

Why was his growth accelerated?

She felt a flash of shame and regret from Murtagh that came from a bad memory, and she recognized the feeling, having felt it countless times herself.

We- We were used as weapons by a very bad person. He accelerated Thorn's growth so that he could fight sooner.

The only weapons she knew of were claws, teeth, spears, and swords. She imagined Thorn with his size and Murtagh with his magic language being used as a weapon against somebody, and she shivered. The person to use them would be very powerful.

I have also been imprisoned. I escaped yesterday. I can guess that I intruded on your den?

No, we arrived here early this morning. Fate had arranged our discovery of you; there is no other explanation.

Umala rumbled slightly.

Bahamut still watches over us.

Who is that?

Murtagh and Thorn did not know of the Sire of Dragonkind? Even Umala's imprisonment did not stop her from hearing of him.

Bahamut is the first dragon- he sired the first eggs with Tiamat, the mother of the ocean. Tiamat was corrupt, however. She worked magic on her first and second clutches to make them serpents of the ocean and her servants. The first clutch was a failure, they were unintelligent and took to the air, and they were named Couatls. The second clutch was a success, she had created giant serpents of the ocean to serve her, named Nagas. She told Bahamut that the eggs did not hatch, that they were dead, but he discovered her treachery and took her last clutch to the air, where she could not follow. The last clutch hatched as they were supposed to, and they were called Dragons. Bahamut returned to the sea once his kin had hatched, and he pinned Tiamat so that she would have no more influence on the rest of the world. The top of his body peaked above the waves, and earth collected upon it, growing a place for his offspring to live.

Murtagh looked mildly surprised as her story finished.

I did not know that dragons had a religion; neither did Thorn.

It is not a religion; Bahamut is not a deity, he is not worshipped, he is simply the first dragon.

Um- alright then. Thank you for telling us of that.

You are welcome.

Well, back to the original topic- do you know why you were imprisoned? Where were you?

The two-legged ones would take our scales for their ships. I was in one of their ships in the sky.

She saw Murtagh pale.

People are using dragon scales to put ships in the air? That is certainly news to us.

Scales are just as important as wings are when it came to flying, for they fall upwards and function to make dragons light enough to fly.

And there are more dragons aboard those ships?

Yes.

She felt a swell of anger from Murtagh's mind, and it was joined by a second, who she inferred was Thorn.

Then we have work to do.

Thorn took to the air, leaving a cold whirlwind of the dry, powdery snow in his wake. Now flying among the white mountains, he saw among them several leafless trees that clung to the sides of the mountains, covered in a blue and grey lichen-like organism, and several green, pointy trees that grew in the ravines between the mountains. How they remained green and growing, Thorn had no idea, but he had a feeling he would spot prey among them. He felt Murtagh's activities in his mind, he was communicating with the female. He listened to their conversation in the background as he focused on his hunting. Landing at the base of the thicket, he discovered he could find no way to move among the trees without plowing them over.

Thankfully, he knew what to do in this kind of situation.

He could smell deer and several smaller animals in the thicket, so he went to a location where he was closest to them, and roared loudly. Animals scattered in terror, and the red and white deer flocked away from him, bursting from the other side of the thicket within seconds. Thorn took to the air with a thunderous wave of pressure, and the trees near him bent over until they were nearly sideways. As he took off, he was contacted by Murtagh directly.

She is from a group of humans, I'm guessing, that farm dragons for their scales. There are still more dragons among them. Many, if I understand correctly.

Thorn felt anger build like fire in his belly.

They will burn, he vowed.

He quickly caught up to the panicking herd and flew above them, shepherding them towards a rocky wall forming the base of a mountain. When they were in the right position, Thorn dropped to the ground and, before landing, gave a mighty flap in the direction of the deer. A visible wave of snow indicating the edge of his wing-wind rushed towards the herd. When it hit, the lot of them flew into the air and slammed against the rocky wall, falling down dead.

Thorn finished off the ones that were injured and separated five talon-fulls from the main pile, one for each of his paws to carry, and one to carry in his mouth. He ate the rest on the spot, crunching down on the savory corpses with blood running down his jaw. Several times, he flew over the pile he had separated, managing to pick all of the bodies up and fly back to the cave he had left Murtagh and the female in. He dropped the corpses from his paws before landing, and scooted the pile into the cave, dropping the ones from his mouth as he did.

The female widened her eyes at the pile, looking as if she had never even seen food before. She looked back up at him, questioning. He touched her mind, and was grateful that she did not lash out again this time. She accepted the connection.

I have eaten my fill, you may eat yours.

Thank you.

I am only doing what anyone in their right mind would do. You have nothing to thank me for but my sanity, and to be honest, all of us are thankful for that.

If that is the case, then I have dealt with too many that are not in touch with their sanity. I still thank you.

The female ravenously began eating the deer, able to eat each one in two bites, which was more than Thorn required but impressive for her size. She ate until her stomach was swollen and she and the area around her, even so far as the ceiling, was covered in blood.

Her eyelids were drooping, and her fatigue had become obvious. If she had looked exhausted before, she now looked as if she was waking from death.

Thank you again, Murtagh and Thorn. I am going to sleep now. Will you be continuing on your journey?

Thorn and Murtagh looked at each other, and they knew they had an understanding.

We are not going to leave oppression unattended, and I believe that it would be easier for you to survive if we continue offering our assistance. Here is as good of a place as any to do both of those things from; if you will have us, then we will stay.

Though I had been considering this place as more your territory than mine, you may stay. Also, there is not just one ship among my captors; there are many. They are armored in dragon scales and metal, and they have many weapons built for destroying structures and capturing dragons. I do not know your capabilities, but that is what you are up against. Know that I would be even further in your debt if you were to free any of my kin.

An unnecessary debt, for we will never collect it. About our immediate situation, would you like me to lie with you as you sleep? I would not mind.

The female seemed to think about the decision for much longer than expected, and Thorn wondered what extra significance it had for her. He hoped that he had not crossed a line- Galbatorix had only taught him about battle, not how to socially function as a dragon, and Shruikan had not been a good role model in any capacity.

With one exception, I've never truly interacted with any other dragons outside of fighting them. I don't know why you are thinking so long on this, I think that I am missing something.

The female didn't respond immediately, but continued thinking. Finally, she responded.

Yes, you can lie next to me.

Thorn wondered why she did not respond to his other statement, but he let it go.

She lay down and closed her eyes, so Thorn went and lay next to her, covering her with a wing yet again. She shuddered when he touched her, but relaxed almost immediately. The blood on her and the ground had already become sticky, and Thorn wanted to lick her clean, but if she had thought so long about him lying down with her, than he didn't even want to ask about licking her off.

After a couple seconds, he felt her breathing slow.

Thorn- I'm not sure what you just agreed to by doing that, but that decision was way too heavy than it needed to be.

I communicated that I don't know dragon culture, I did not agree to anything.

Right. So are you gonna sleep too? I am- that dragon's waking schedule is another thing that needs healing.

Thorn nodded and set his head on the bloodied ground. His chin stuck to it, but he fell asleep quickly.