"It will hurt." The older dragonette bared his teeth in an exaggerated grimace. "Much pain."

  "But you can heal it?"

  "Heal it? The wing is healed now. That is the problem." He pointed at the healthy blue membrane beginning to show through beneath peeling scabs. "I cut membrane, then heal pieces. Cutting membrane hurt much."

  Aytin shivered, the memory of Xantha plunging the red hot knife into his wings so vivid that he nearly yanked them from the healer's gentle grasp. The idea of doing that voluntarily...

  "Thank you, Agon. Pain not kill me." He hoped. "Can I help? Do you need anything?"

  "A sharp knife," the healer replied. "One which stays sharp. I can use flint, but the cuts will be bad. It take days to heal. And strong drink," he added, almost as an afterthought. "For you."

  There was a silver bladed scalpel in the cache. Aytin had found it in a healer's kit among one of the crew's belongings. It was certainly sharp enough to reopen the edges of his wounds so that Agon could use his healing talents to fuse them together once more.

  Strong drink was another matter.

  Spirits were expensive and there weren't any among the general cargo. Some of the crew may have had the coin for personal supplies, but if so then they had gone through them well before the ambush.

  The wildlings brewed a sort of weak beer. He could probably get a fair supply of the stuff, but it would take quite a lot of it to dull the pain of having bits of his wings carved away. Probably more than he could drink in a single sitting.

  He did recall one of the medicines in the cargo claimed to reduce pain. 'Worth a try, I guess.'

  With a nod, Aytin rose. "Thank you, Healer Agon. I go to get knife. I come back soon." He gave a bow, which the healer returned.

  "I wait. Drink your tea." He indicated the steaming cup. Agon was one of the minority of wildlings that appreciated the bitter brew. But those few were consuming the stuff at a rate that made Aytin happy the cargo had included quite a bit of it.

  Outside of the healer's tent, Rina was waiting for him.

  "Agon can fix you?"

  "Yes. I know you hear him. The tent is not big."

  She smiled widely and prodded him in the side. "Agon is the best healer."

  "I want so."

  "You hope so?" she asked with a cocked head.

  "Hope so," Aytin corrected.

  They passed by a quartet of wildlings as he led the way to the cache.

  He hadn't had much interaction with Verk and Okoni, the pair of huntresses who had arrived with Cue. And the two newcomers that had just arrived with Agon were complete strangers.

  The previous two days had been whirlwinds of activity. After Cue's arrival, the huntresses had set about expanding the camp with a will. Between guard duty and hunting expeditions to feed Faelon's draconic appetite, they had built several wooden shelters and dug out a large, stone lined fire pit, and even dug a latrine a short walk down the canyon. When Aytin dug the large canvas tent out of the cargo, they had helped erect it, and made appreciative noises about its strength and light weight the entire time.

  All the while, Aytin had worked to learn their language. Mostly from Rina and Ness, although the latter ended up on courrier duty once more to go and fetch Agon. Attalee continued to remain slightly distant and the newer huntresses seemed unsure of him. Of course, there was also Cue, but the wilding Companion was a different story.

  Okoni saw him approaching and elbowed one of her companions. Almost as one, all four of the wildlings stood and bowed.

  Aytin did his best to hide his discomfort at the attention, nodding at each in turn. His new status among the wildlings was something he was still getting used to.

  'If I ever need my ego cut down, I'll just go talk to Attalee. She couldn't care less, no matter what Cue says.'

  "What do you think about?" Rina demanded. She also didn't seem to care about his lofty status as Faelon's "companion". And unlike her boss, she wasn't an ass about it.

  "Nothing important." It was true enough. He still got another poke in response. "Ow!"

  "Tell me the truth," she ordered with a sly grin.

  "It is the truth!"

  He managed to dodge the next jab. "You too scared to do that before."

  "No," she countered. "Did it when we meet."

  "I try when we meet, not you! You stop me!"

  Rina made a show of thinking it over and then deliberately shaking her head. "No, I do not remember that."

  This time, it was Aytin who managed to land a taloned finger right at the base of the huntress's wing joint. She squawked indignantly and gave him a look of mock betrayal.

  "Remember now?"

  She flicked a long tongue at him and he flicked his ears in response. But they were both smiling.

  Then Rina's smile faded a little. "I am not scared now because I know you are like us," she said before shaking her head slightly. "No, you are different. But not like a companion."

  "Oh? And what is a companion like?"

  "They-"

  She was cut off by an enthusiastic shout. "Companion Aytin!"

  He winced internally as Cue came striding over at a pace just a little too fast to be called dignified.

  "Good morning Companion Cue," Aytin said, keeping a smile fixed on his face and remembering to use the honorific.

  The wildling beamed at him. "It is, it is. You talk to healer Agon? He can fix your wings?"

  "Yes, that is what he say to me."

  "Good, good!" He clapped in satisfaction. Nothing about the shaman ever seemed to stay still, from his swishing tail to how he seemed to bounce back and forth. If he could harness that nervous energy, the dragonette ought to be able to build an entire keep in a week.

  Not that he seemed inclined to use it in such a constructive manner.

  "You fly to the elders." It stopped short of an order. Cue would never give Aytin an order. But it was a strong suggestion. "They must hear you speak for Dragon Faelon. Must agree to help," he finished, earnestly.

  Aytin nodded, gravely. "Yes, Cue. I do that."

  If the shaman noticed the edge of exasperation in the words, he chose to ignore it as he bobbed his head up and down like a tree in a windstorm. Rina, on the other hand, shot him a pointed look. She didn't seem to appreciate any disrespect towards her tribe's spiritual leader.

  'No matter how annoying he is.'

  "Agon is a great healer," Cue went on.

  "Yes, Rina and others tell me." Aytin hoped that the other male would get the hint, but no such luck.

  "He teach me. I learn all he teach," the shaman went on with obvious pride.

  "You are a healer too?"

  That was surprising. Cue was a mage, one of the small minority of dragonettes who could channel their magic rather than use it as part of a single talent. Apparently, he was the only wildling in the tribe with that gift. Whether he was any good with it remained to be seen.

  Mages could use their power to work rituals or enchant certain materials. That gave them significantly more potential than most dragonettes, but it was rare for them to be able to copy most innate magical talents.

  For the first time, Cue seemed to still. "No, I am not a good healer. I know a few spells. My magic?"

  Aytin nodded at the explanation for the unfamiliar word.

  "I know a few spells, but none for healing," Cue repeated. "To be a Companion, I have to learn much about many things. So I learn with Agon."

  "Yes, Agon is very good," Aytin agreed, and sensing a lull in the conversation added, "I must go now. Must talk to Faelon."

  He started edging towards where the dragon was resting at the rear of the canyon, but Cue's expression lit up. "May I come? I would love to give respect to Dragon Faelon!"

  Rina gave him another look, so Aytin suppressed a sigh. "It is a short talk. I must get things and go to Agon." As the dragonette's ears drooped in disappointment, he quickly added, "But you may come and listen."

  Nodding profusely, Cue fell in beside him with Rina bringing up the rear.

  "The hunters bring lots of good deer, yes?" He motioned towards a pair of bucks, their hind legs tied to branches so they could bleed.

  "They do," Aytin agreed noncommittally.

  "Deer tastes good with salt. You have more?"

  It was a leading question if Aytin ever heard one. He decided to borrow just a little weight to throw around.

  "Faelon likes his deer with salt. He will give salt to make his food. There may be extra if he is happy."

  The mention of the dragon ended the wheedling before it even started. Cue immediately bobbed his head and the matter was settled.

  It wasn't like Aytin was being stingy with the supplies. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was following Faelon's suggestions and offering just enough to show the wildlings what they had to gain, but not so much that they were satisfied with what they had.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  So Aytin made sure to provide salt and grain and tea for the meals, and pass out the occasional gift. He almost always tried to come up with some sort of pretext for those gifts, but it was like exchanging a handful of gold for a hot meal.

  The brief exchange was all Cue had time for before they reached Faelon. Aytin silently thanked the gods for that as he approached the dragon while the wildlings looked on unobtrusively.

  "And how is the great god of the island doing today?" he asked, a hint of mischief in his words.

  Faelon did not seem appreciative of the humor. "Do not let the church hear you say that. It would be the oceans for both of us."

  "And what happens when they find out about all of this?" He motioned at the wildlings subtly and not so subtly watching their conversation. Not that any of them spoke the language. They were simply interested in anything that their god did.

  "I do not plan to mention this to the church or their inquisition. Do you, companion?"

  He simply shook his head, expression souring.

  It hadn't taken long after the Cue's arrival to piece together the true meaning of that particular word. Mage, shaman, priest; all three were apparently bound up in the term. Just like 'Dragon' meant more than the creature to the wildlings. This whole time, they had actually been calling him a god.

  "They had to be dragon worshipers..." Faelon let out a long, tired sigh.

  Nodding in understanding, Aytin took a seat nearby. "At least Cue is making things easier for us."

  The wildling shaman puffed up at the sound of his name. Between his oversized ceremonial robes and not being much more than average height for a male, the action looked just a little ridiculous.

  Thankfully, Faelon refrained from letting any emotions show. He even gave a brief nod towards the wildling shaman. "I could wish that this was simply a business transaction. Which is what you must say when you return to civilization."

  "I will. If I make it, I mean."

  He couldn't keep the flash of guilt off of his face.

  "The healer said he could fix you." It was a statement, not a question.

  Aytin cast his eyes down as he nodded.

  "That... that is good news."

  Even the wildlings could sense the tension in the air. Most of them did their best to turn their attention elsewhere. Rina and Cue had no such option, and both looked distinctly uncomfortable. Their god was unhappy and they didn't have the faintest idea why.

  "Faelon..." Aytin stood and moved to lay a hand against the dragon's massive foreleg. It was like a hatchling petting a draft animal, but he still felt the muscles stiffen beneath his touch. "Faelon, I'm not going to leave you."

  He got a sigh and a hard look in response.

  "I'm not." There was steel in his voice.

  "You say that now. And when we kill the traitor, what then? You will live here among the wildlings for the rest of your days? When you know that Lazon's Rest is a mere day's flight away?"

  His voice was tinged with anger, but it wasn't directed at the dragonette. More at the world and the gods that just didn't seem to care.

  "Faelon, don't take this the wrong way, but you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and think."

  The dragon jerked and his expression was one of hurt and betrayal. But Aytin held his ground.

  "Didn't you tell me just a few days ago to look for solutions, not problems? Well, you're just focusing on your problems."

  "That is easy for you to say. You have found a solution to your problem." Faelon twitched the stump of his missing wing and bitterness edged into his words.

  Aytin winced a little, but he didn't let up. "I did. And it's so much worse for you than me. I know that nothing I come up with is going to magically get you into the air again.

  "But at least we can make it better than sleeping out in the rain and eating nothing but roasted venison for dinner every night."

  Faelon looked like he wanted to argue. But he paused with his enormous maw half open to consider his friend's words. After a moment, he exhaled a long breath. "Explain."

  "Well, it's like you said. We're just a half-day's dragon flight from the closest settlement. There's no reason why they couldn't come to us. Traders, I mean. Once they know that we're here."

  "Hmmm..."

  To his credit, Faelon considered the idea. Eventually, he nodded slightly. "Perhaps. There would have to be something here to draw them. They do not operate on charity."

  "Well, there was a keep here once. Someone built it here for a reason. That reason probably still exists."

  "Do the wildlings know why it was first abandoned?"

  Aytin shrugged. "I asked, but it was decades ago and they avoided it when it was occupied. There wasn't any disaster, at least, and no massive darkling raid, either. They watch for those, and one of the responsibilities of huntresses is to scout for any corruption."

  "Well, if someone were looking to fill the keep, they would have no difficulty finding volunteers among the inner cities and keeps to emigrate. Whether or not they will be worth anything is the question."

  "I bet that there are junior huntresses looking for opportunities. Our keep has lost a few to the frontiers. Some of them are willing to risk the wilderness for the chance to be in the upper ranks. Or they just don't like the structure of more established keeps."

  Faelon's words took on a resigned tone as he said, "I suppose that a life of pulling a plow or carting about firewood is better than chasing tirox for my meals."

  It was further than Aytin had thought ahead and his own expression fell. The lot of a crippled dragon was often manual labor for there was little else that they could do.

  "We'll keep thinking," he said with forced confidence.

  "We shall." And if Faelon did not sound precisely happy, his tone lacked the feel of the condemned. As if to avoid further reflection on his situation, he asked, "When will the healer start on your wings?"

  "As soon as I get him some supplies," Aytin replied. "He says it's going to hurt."

  "I can imagine. Some of my crew suffered torn wings over the years. Sometimes far from healers. The treatment is... unpleasant."

  "Any suggestions?"

  Faelon cocked his head in thought. "Avoid having your wing torn."

  That got a weak smile in response. "Ha. Ha. And if that's not an option?"

  "Strong drink and a piece of rawhide to bite."

  "Well, we have plenty of the second." Aytin motioned to the recently killed deer. "I really could do with the first, though. Know anything about making cider? We still have a bunch of those apples."

  "I do not. But it sounds as if you are avoiding things," Faelon said pointedly.

  "Well, nothing I'm hearing is making this any easier." The dragonette took a deep breath and nodded to himself. "Wish me luck."

  Aytin stepped away and climbed up to the cache. Both Cue and Rina followed on his heels. By unspoken agreement, the wildlings never approached the pile of supplies on their own, but they took any opportunity they could to peer at the treasures within.

  "What Dragon Faelon say?" the shaman almost demanded.

  It took a few moments to switch back to the wildling tongue and come up with an answer. "We talk about the fight. And he say to heal well."

  "A blessing," Cue said with a firm nod.

  "Yes. Something like that." The last he added in his own language as he began going through boxes.

  They were more organized than they had been originally. Aytin had spent an entire afternoon going through them as he spoke with Rina and the other wildlings.

  He was looking through the smallest pile, consisting of the items he felt were most valuable. Or most valuable to the current situation, at least. It made for odd priorities, like storing coin purses with bulk bundles of hides. But medical supplies were definitely of the utmost importance.

  Shifting through the crates and packages unearthed a particular item that made the young dragonette frown. It was the one thing in that pile that he couldn't use, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

  The lockbox was a rectangular steel container about half the size of his travel trunk and reportedly packed with the most valuable items the trader had carried. Not only the expedition's funds, but things like expensive fabrics, fine liquor, potions, and a few enchanted tools. Anything whose value and small size made it a target for thieves. Nothing extraordinary according to Faelon, but that single box contained a not insignificant chunk of the cargo's worth.

  Unfortunately, it was magically locked and sealed with a number of enchantments that would make forcing it open without damaging the contents nearly impossible.

  To make matters worse, he knew exactly where the key was.

  'Gods damn Xantha.'

  The traitor had bragged about it before heading for Luffin keep to deliver her ransom demand. She had kept quiet about exactly how she had managed the feat, but stealing the key had apparently been one of the reasons she embedded herself into the crew. And with the death of their original leader, successfully retrieving it had cemented her place as the top brigand.

  Without the key, the lockbox wasn't any more useful than a bag of rocks. Well, a skilled mage might be able to open it, but...

  Aytin shot a surreptitious glance towards Cue. The shaman was perusing a crate full of fabric. Not touching anything, but obviously coveting the bolts of white cloth.

  'Maybe I should ask him to take a look?'

  That was a thought for another time, though. Maybe after a few carefully worded questions. Even if Aytin desperately wanted one of the bottles of aged wine reportedly within, it would take a competent mage hours or days to crack the enchantments. They didn't have that time. So he got back to searching through the supplies until he found the box of medicines and the purported painkiller.

  The ink on the handwritten label had run a little, so it took some time to decipher the instructions. It appeared that when steeped into a tea, the herbal mixture could relieve joint pains and headaches.

  "Well, that's about as useful as gilded wings," Aytin muttered.

  There was a small container of Heaven Oak bark for northern keeps that lacked easy access to the massive trees. Using it to go into hibernation had a certain appeal, but once again, there wasn't time to sleep for days or weeks.

  "What are you saying?" Rina asked. Cue was a few paces away, having moved on to examining a box full of tools, and hadn't heard the muttered words or was too engrossed to care.

  "I hope this is for pain. It is not." Aytin held up the ceramic jar.

  The huntress examined it closely. "What is it for?"

  "Small pain." He rubbed his shoulders and then around the base of his horns like he had a headache. "It will not help."

  She winced in sympathy. "Healer Agon will be fast. He is the best."

  "I'm sure," Aytin agreed. "Bad is I do lots to heal wings. Must hurt them again to fix."

  He had to struggle a little to get the point across. Talking about the past and the future in the wildling language wasn't something he was comfortable with. They had a strange way of mangling the words that he doubted he would ever fully grasp.

  Eventually, Rina got the gist of his words. "I cannot help. I know herbs for pain, but same pain as that." She gestured at the medicinal tea.

  "I have this," he said as he cut a strip from one of the bundles of hides in the cargo. Wrapped into a tight cylinder, it would make a fine bite guard. "I will live."

  A voice in the back of his mind insisted that something else in the cargo would help him. He would just need to search a little longer. Aytin quashed that voice. Agon had been waiting long enough and all he was doing was putting off the inevitable.

  At least the scalpel was where he remembered it, in a small leather bundle along with various other medical implements. He grabbed the entire set, intending to see if Agon could make use of it.

  Cue looked disappointed to be dragged away from examining the treasures. He seemed almost as fascinated by them as he did with Faelon. And he hadn't been any more interested than the other wildlings until Aytin had mentioned that the dragon had brought them to the island. Then they were suddenly gifts from his god's own hands or something.

  Thankfully, the shaman didn't seem interested in accompanying him to the healer. When Aytin informed him of his next stop, Cue made an excuse and wandered off.

  "He go to look at Faelon more," Aytin whispered to Rina once he was sure the other dragonette was out of earshot.

  The wildling huntress looked like she was simultaneously scandalized and trying to hold back laughter. "Companion Cue is important!" she admonished.

  "He is... not many years?"

  "Young. Yes. Learn from Companion Nocta, but she die two years ago. Now he is Companion."

  "Okay..." It made a sort of sense, he guessed. The question was how far this young shaman's opinion would carry with the true leaders of the tribe.

  That thought at least managed to occupy his mind until he reached the entrance to Agon's tent.

  Aytin took a deep breath, only to be brought up short by a hand on his shoulder.

  "I am here," Rina told him as she pulled open the leather flap in front of the tent. "I will help."

  From inside, Agon eyed them curiously as the huntress gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. Then she guided him inside with a pressure that was every bit as unyielding as it was gentle.

  The healer accepted the proffered tools and made appreciative sounds over their quality as Rina guided Aytin to the sleeping mat. Light flooded the once dim tent as Agon opened a flap, allowing a beam of sunlight to illuminate the makeshift surgery.

  Aytin could sense the healer's approach even if he couldn't turn his neck to see. He closed his eyes and bit deep into the leather bundle in his mouth, tensed against the anticipated pain.

  Instead of the bite of a knife, he felt someone take his hand. Aytin's eyes flickered open, only to be met with Rina's intent gaze. Gently, she pried his fingers just far enough apart to slip her own inside of his.

  "I am here," she repeated, as the healer began his work.