“You’rereallybleeding,” the man added, stressing the word as if Zarrin had failed to notice his own injuries. Zarrin briefly wondered if the man was concerned, though why should he be?
“Scales are only armor, and no armor is perfect,” Zarrin informed him absently, then shifted his weight so he could lift his foot to his mouth, first to lick at the blood and then to try to pull out a thorn with his teeth. The thorn was wedged between his toes, and now that he was paying attention, it hurt, a lot. He bit down and tugged, then immediately stopped at the hot throbbing sting of it. Zarrin shut his eyes while he sighed. “I am a failure once again. I can’t even pull out a thorn, and will have to bleed my way back through the woods.”
“What?” The human raised his voice. “You can’t go through the woods after dark. Or… are dragons allowed?”
Zarrin braced himself before trying to pull on the thorn again. He stopped, panting, when it hardly budged. “It was a mistake to come here,” he grunted, teeth around the blasted thing, “even just to reason with you. It is your right to be left alone, human, even if I do not think you have much hope there.I’vecertainly never been left alone to do as I wished, and I have much more power than you. I don’t know why they have settled on you as the one to offer to the royal family, but settled they have.”
The human did not respond to Zarrin’s hint for information. “So, you’ve come to take me to them yourself? To kidnap me and keep me?” The man raised his chin as high as Zarrin might have. “I don’t care if the Prince chooses me. It’s against my will to go and I will not consent. Just like with all the others.”
Zarrin flicked him a look while still gnawing at the troublesome thorn. “Did you wear your beast suit when you first came here, or only after, when the visitors would not stop?” He growled a little, because his efforts had ground the thorn in deeper. “Perhaps you put that on costume to spite them, and so, to spite you, they have told the Princess lies of your beauty to increase interest in you. But your disguise might still work, for a time. I imagine being fierce can be useful.”
“Fierce?” The man in claws and spikes dared to sound surprised. “You are a dragon.”
“I am bleeding,” Zarrin complained, and switched feet to try to pull out a different thorn.
The man had a certain belligerent quality that was either because the townspeople had been trying to be rid of him, or was the reason the townspeople had been trying to be rid of him. He put his shoulders back. “That is your fault, not mine, dragon. The point was to be left alone.”
“Moving out here was to be left alone.” Zarrin lashed his tail. “A hedge might have accomplished that. The thorns were intended to hurt.”
“Only those who wouldn’t listen,” the man insisted, stubborn, but then lowered his voice. “You still were not invited.”
“That is true. But I could find no door, and I only wished to help.” The smaller thorn slid free, and Zarrin sighed in relief before lapping at the blood. He moved back to the original, trickier thorn, but first glanced over again. Despite plenty of chances to attack a weakened dragon, the human had not. “How long have you been fending off visitors that were not wanted? You must be very tired by now.”
“I…” the man fell silent, as if at a loss, before finally heaving a breath. “People have pretended they wished to rescue me before.”
“Have they?” Something hot and decidedly not Zarrin’s own fire curled through Zarrin’s chest. The jealousy was unexpected, but then, this was the first human Zarrin had met who was so interesting. And weird. Still, Zarrin had his pride. “I have not offered to rescue you. I offered to help you, if I can.” He stopped to make sure the man was listening. “You know, going to see the Prince is no guarantee he will choose you. He has not chosen any of the others. Beauty alone is… a fine requirement for treasure but odd, for a companion. And I doubt you can be any more lovely than the others.”
Once again, he had the impression that the human was utterly lost. “You saw them?” he asked faintly. “The others? You saw them leave safely? Did they say no, or was it the Prince?”
“That matters?” Zarrin considered answers while he licked around the thorn. “They were not suited,” he replied at last before going still again. “You must be very beautiful,” he realized aloud, perhaps too wistfully. “Drawing so many to you that you required a wall of thorns. But you have nothing to worry about. I am but a little dragon. Unless…didyou need a rescue? Is that what you would like?” Zarrin felt heat stirring in his chest again. Not jealousy and not fire. Not lust, either. Pride and pleasure and an eagerness to please. That was a bit of a problem, considering this human did not want him here, but Zarrin tried his best. “That is something even a small dragon may provide.”
“Provide?” the human echoed in disbelief. “For me? You’re bleeding!”
Zarrin snarled and ripped out the thorn with one final, vicious tug, and then stared in shock and distant horror as blood gushed from the wound. It spilled into the dirt in a truly alarming fashion and Zarrin tore his gaze away and looked up.
“This is nothing,” Zarrin assured the man weakly, in a voice that seemed to come from outside his body. “Don’t you know that dragons heal—”
His vision went black and he hit the ground before he could finish the words.
ZARRIN WOKE to the sight of cedar walls illuminated by light from an open door as well as the hole in the ceiling to vent smoke, with a small cooking area around a fire and shelves along the walls full of baskets, pots, and tools. He was on piles of thick blankets that must have been used as a bed, his foot resting in a bowl of cool water that was pink with his blood.
Sitting on the floor in front of him, a knife at his side along with bandages and some herbs, was the man in a beast suit.
“I fainted,” Zarrin croaked, terribly embarrassed, and didn’t know what to think when the man ignored this.
“There are thorns and splinters still beneath your scales, though I tried to soak them to loosen them.” The skull of the Great Wolf would not let Zarrin see the man’s face clearly, although the two of them were much closer than they had been before. “I already cleaned the wounds on your face and back.”
Zarrin trembled. This would hurt more. He might faint again. He was no sort of dragon to have any companion, that was clear. “I am not brave,” he admitted softly, eyes down.
Again, the human paused. “We both know you could still overpower me, quite easily.” His voice was equally soft.
Zarrin darted a look up, though the man had no face or expression to read. “I’m not a kidnapper.”
The man nodded. “You said you were a solver of problems.”
“Well, I would like to be.” Zarrin saw no point in pretending anymore. “I’ve never done it before, but it seemed like a good time to start. It’s meant to be a gift, you know, being chosen. An honor. I’m sorry it was not, and that I have been nothing but trouble for you.” He drew in a deep breath before he pulled his foot from the water and held it out. “Go ahead. I will try to bear it.”
Slowly, the man removed his clawed gloves, baring sturdy, slender hands that were more delicate than Zarrin would have expected.
