So, let me start by saying that it's a really bad idea to hop on a dragon when your legs still hurt from straddling a griffon. Because, you know, dragons are a bit bigger and that just stretches your already pain-riddled muscles more and leads to some god-awful cramps like you wouldn't believe. And that lion fur is actually kind of cushy, versus a bunch of hard scales. The saddle thing didn't help much at all.

That said, I don't think we got very far before the dragon had to land and let me try to get my muscles to quit seizing. As I hopped around, chanting 'ow' and massaging my thighs, Mr. Dragon just hung back, watching me like he was wondering if he'd made a mistake agreeing to help me.

It's a good thing that thought didn't occur to me at the time, though, because I probably would have had a panic attack at the thought of being stranded in the middle of nowhere—he'd landed in some rocky, mountainy patch near a really unfriendly looking beach.

Before this place, Azeroth had seemed kinda bright and cheerful, minus the whole demon attack. Though...even those guys were kinda colorful, when I think about it. Lots of flaming green.

Well, I was finally getting to the point where, if I kept walking, my legs didn't hurt too bad, but they felt worse if I stood still—when I wasn't moving it was like they were back in the position they'd stretched out in while I was sitting—when I looked up and realized that my dragon was gone.

I didn't really have time to register that I'd been left to die in some unknown, harsh place before I heard the dragon's voice drift down to me. "Calm your nerves, I am committed to your aid."

I turned, expecting to see him flying lazily over head or maybe crawling over the rocky outcrops nearby—probably creepily—but instead, what I saw made my jaw drop. There was no dragon. Instead, he was a man. A human man.

His hair was long and dark and his skin had a nice tan to it. And he was in a long black dress. Wait. It was probably a robe. I mean, I'd seen a bunch of guys in that sort of stuff and Fizz was always in this sort of thing. It's probably like monks or medieval times or something. Guys used to wear robes then, right?

As I stared at him dumbly, he simply arched an eyebrow. He cast a slow glance over his shoulder as though to assure himself that it was him I was staring at. "Find you a problem?"

"You're not a dragon anymore."

"Hardly," he snorted. "I am always a dragon."

"Then why do you look like a person?" I think I offended him by implying that dragons weren't people. "I mean, where did your wings go?" I hobbled over to him and waved my hand behind his back, like maybe they were just invisible or something.

"You truly have difficulty grasping the concepts behind magic, don't you?" Even as I grumbled he should explain it to me, he held his hand out and dropped a few scraggly looking plants into my hands. "Eat these. They should remedy your pains."

At first, I was totally ready to argue the whole randomly found plant life as a meal thing, but he gave me this withering look and I ended up munching quietly on a life with a deer-in-the-headlights expression.

They weren't bad. I mean, I wouldn't go out of my way to eat them again, but they were okay. Kinda like spinach. That made me feel better, that I could put a name to the flavor, even if it was a sorta match at best.

And it did make my legs feel better. Rather quickly, too.

The dragon sat down on a rock nearby and motioned for me to join him. I kind of didn't want to. Partially because I didn't want to sit down and have my legs spasm again and kind of because the power of this truce was so obviously in his favor.

"Come, I will not bite."

Ha ha. I've learned that dragon humor is not something that I enjoy much.

Anyway, he seemed like he was trying to be friendlier when I finally did sit down, on the far edge of the rock from him. He told me his name was Brathrion and seemed kind of disappointed when I told him my name was Amy.

I guess that's not an uncommon name here and he was hoping for something exotic. We agreed that it was odd that two entirely different worlds would share naming conventions. I stumbled over his name a couple times, forgetting that second r, before he finally cursed 'my clumsy tongue' and told me to call him Brath.

I do like how mono-syllabic all the names are of the people I meet. It makes it easy for me to remember them. Well, I suppose Brath is just a nick name and maybe Fizz was, too. But still.

Remembering Fizz kind of got me down, since I'd probably never see him again and he'd been nice.

Now, I'm not one of those creepy people who says hi to someone and then forms some weird stalker bond. It's just he was...the first person to help me here, you know? And I'd like to think we were friends.

Anyway, Brath asked if I was thinking about home and we started talking about my world. I told him about cars and computers and celebrities. He seemed really amused that my culture was so heavily enamored with a bunch of people most of us would never meet. I told him about Greg and how he was more practical, I supposed, though I hadn't always thought that. I mean, I used to think I was much more grounded in reality than someone who would talk through his computer to a bunch of strangers across the country about killing dragons.

I bit my lip after I said that and glanced over at Brath, half expecting him to be offended. He simply shrugged, though.

"Some dragons are corrupt and need slaying."

"Well, what about you?" I felt like I'd taken enough of the spotlight. And I didn't want to say something that actually might piss him off. "Do you have any family? Are they all forced to be people's mounts?"

He seemed amused by the second question, though he simply shook his head. "If anyone tried to make my father into a mount, they would not live long enough to regret it." When I asked if his dad was a really big dragon, he just cackled. "The biggest."

I couldn't help but feel like he was talking down to me when he said it. "So he's really strong?"

"Mm-hm."

"Then why didn't he stop them from making you into a slave?"

Brath's smile slipped for a moment. "We dragons are born in rather large clutches. I doubt he knows where all of his offspring are." His smile returned with a sly edge. "And currently, he has busied himself with remaking the world."

"All by himself?"

"Oh, he has assistance from a few...organizations." He paused to inspect my expression, his grin widening. "And he's doing quite well, if I might say."

I watched him for a moment. "Do you think he'd help my world, too?"

Brath tilted his head slowly as he stared at me, with this expression I couldn't read. Like, either he thought it was the dumbest question ever, or he thought it was funny, or...something. I couldn't help but feel that I'd overstepped some boundary.

However, he just shrugged. "Should you ever find yourself graced with his presence, feel free to ask."

He seemed a bit too entertained when I said I would. Maybe as a human, I shouldn't go asking dragons for favors? Especially if the dragon slave trade is run by humans...though, Brath could tell that I wasn't the same as them from a simple sniff, so maybe his dad would, too?

For a second, I thought about telling the dragons that they should just move to my world, but that seemed like a really bad idea, really fast. My world doesn't need something higher on the food chain than we are. ...or do dragons actually eat people?

"When you are ready, we'll head off," Brath interrupted my thoughts, standing up and stretching his arms over his head. He paused and looked down at me from the corner of his eye and I could see that his pupil was slit like a cat's. "Once we are over the ocean, there will be nowhere to land for almost a day, so please see to it that you will be able to ride as long."

I blinked. "It's that quick to get across the ocean?"

"It will take us four days, flying." He paused. "And then another four or so flying north to your draenei."

I had to say that still seemed a bit long. I wonder how long it would take a dragon to fly around my world, though. They're not as fast as planes, because I'd totally fly off if that were the case.

He merely gave me an arrogant, mischievous grin. "I am easily one of the fastest drakes of my clutch, so you are most welcome for the fact that our trip will take less than two weeks."

I swear that I blinked and then he was a dragon again. I excused myself to empty my bladder—I doubt he'd have wanted me peeing on him during the flight and have a feeling that's what he wanted me to take care of before we left—and then we were off, soaring through the clouds.

I know I have a world to save, but I have to say, that flying is really fun, when it's not some stupid bird thing squawking at you every time you shift your legs.