I awoke the next morning to the sound of clanging metal. I had to squint and shield my eyes against the bright noonday sun, hardly filtered at all through the loose coils of cirrus clouds that hung high in the sky. I slowly lifted my head up, taking in the day. Juniper had already gotten out from underneath my wing, somehow without waking me, and was laying on the grass by Grace, who was going through a backpack by the door of the house.

  I shifted, slowly getting to my feet and stretching before shaking the tiny grass pieces and specks of dew that hadn’t yet been burned away by the sun from my scales. I looked down at my hand, letting out a deep, rumbling sigh. Only the most desperate part of me had been willing to believe that last night was a dream, but I had still thought it was at least a little bit reasonable to hope that this transformation might wear off by the time I woke up. Evidently, it wasn’t, though. I didn’t feel any different from how I did when I went to sleep, save perhaps a little bit more confident in my walk as I turned in slow circles to finally take stock of exactly what had happened to my body.

  My face was long, with my snout being vaguely dog-like. I did have lips and something like ridged eyebrows, so I could still make broad, kind of vague facial expressions at least, although my sharp teeth and forked tongue maybe meant my smile was a little less friendly than it had been before. The fins I had felt flexing on my head were actually two sets of fins that formed a parallel crest of sorts, terminating at my forehead just behind my brow ridge where they became very long. Once I focussed on the feeling of them, I could raise them or let them fall flat, which seemed to be where they naturally rested. Six horns, one pair of big ones and two of much smaller spikes, extended from the back of my head and jaw to frame my crest.

  I was definitely far stronger than before. I hadn’t exactly been weak as a human, but the powerful muscles I could see in my arms and the flight muscles wrapped around my extended sternum both looked and felt like so much more. The wings those flight muscles powered felt like an extra set of arms grafted onto my back, with my “fingers” controlling most of the membrane. I had never studied draconic anatomy, so I didn’t know if wings were actually like arms and hands or if that was just my brain trying to make since of all this.

  My tail had fins just like my head and neck, only these seemed like they were more for flight control than decorations. I could flex and angle them a lot more precisely than my crest, that was for sure, especially the large fan at the end. My scales were mostly that bright orange colour, only I noticed they had darkened on my forearms, feet, and the outer ridges of my wings into a much darker almost brown colour. All of my small scales were broad, leaf-shaped, and heavy, while the cream-coloured ventral scales that covered my underside and my inner limbs were long, rectangular, and didn’t overlap, letting them bend a little easier.

  I tested my range of motion as I made my way towards Grace. That feeling of power came through in every step as I walked, like I could fight a mountain and win. It was worryingly alluring. I reminded myself that this was hopefully going to be temporary.

  Grace noticed me coming and strapped the pack shut before standing and giving me a cheery wave. “Good morning, Belfry!” she said.

  I sat down and rubbed my eye, more out of habit than anything since it didn’t seem like dragons got sleep-sand the same way humans did. ?Morning,? I said curtly.

  Grace leaned against the house, her cheerful expression evaporating. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  ?I’m fine,? I said. ?I’m not any worse than yesterday. I’m still alive. That’s pretty much the best that we can ask for right now.?

  Grace’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “Could be worse, I guess,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

  I hadn’t noticed it until she said those words, but I was starving. I felt like I hadn’t eaten in days, which, given that my diet for the last week mostly consisted of bread, jam, and a bit of salted jerky, wasn’t too far from the truth.

  ?A little bit,? I said.

  “That’s what I thought,” said Grace. “I can’t imagine suddenly quadrupling in size and then flying twelve miles is easy on the energy reserves. Give me just a second.”

  She went back inside, and came out only a moment later with a bucket full of water and a bundle wrapped in cloth. When she set it down, the cloth unfolded to reveal a few chunks of poached meat, probably goat based on the smell, and a handful of purplish wineberries.

  “You were asleep long enough that I had time to go into town and get some provisions,” said Grace. “There’s more in the pack that’s all cured for the road, but I thought you might want something fresher when you got up.”

  I leaned down and narrowed my eyes at the pile of food. ?Can…can I eat cooked meat and berries?? I asked. ?I thought dragons only ate raw meat, not cooked, and no plants.?

  “Nah,” said Grace. “Dragons eat a fair few berries and fruits, even when they live out on their own. And they’ve got built-in cooking fires, so there’s not much reason to eat meat raw.” She shrugged. “Besides, we still don’t know if you’re all dragon on the inside too. I didn’t want to risk you getting sick if you can’t eat raw meat at all.”

  ?I suppose that’s true,? I said, eyeing the food one last time before sitting back and quickly wolfing it down. When I was this hungry, any food would have tasted good, but I was still glad to have real, tart berries and meat that wasn’t completely dry before resigning myself to rations for however long it took us to get to the “academy” Grace talked about. At first I wasn’t too sure how to drink the water, but eventually decided to just hold the bucket halfway inside my mouth and tilt my head back, which worked well enough to justify sparing myself the indignity of having to lap it up like an animal.

  Grace got out her provincial map and spread it on an old work table by the door as I finished my belated breakfast. I sidled up next to her, giving Juniper a few absent-minded brushes with my tail in lieu of my full attention as I did. The map wasn’t overly detailed, but it had pretty much all the towns I knew the names of marked with big circles and labelled, and some large terrain features like forests and mountains.

  “So, here’s the plan,” said Grace, planting her finger on a small circle just at the eastern border of the Wildmoor that stretched out to the north of us. “This is Bryn Corben, and it’s only about forty miles away. It’s not really a city, but it should be enough to serve as a rest stop while we cross the moors. We can either rest there tonight, or keep going a little while longer and camp at the moor’s edge.”

  She dragged her finger northwards, into a deep forest that bordered a wide-open gulf by the sea. “Then from there, it’s a bit over ninety miles to Wrightsmouth for another stop.” She then traced a path over the gulf to large peninsula in the northwest of the province. “Then from Wrightsmouth, we should be able to fly over the Gulf of Pendain pretty easily and get to the flight academy right here.”

  She leaned back, crossing her arms. “So in total, we’re looking at around two hundred miles of flying. I don’t know exactly how fast you can fly, but from what I figure, that means it’s going to be three legs of around four hours of flight if you’re taking it easy. If you really wanted to, you might be able to go full speed and get us to the academy by dusk tonight.”

  I winced and shook my head. ?I’d rather take it easy,? I said. ?I’m still not an expert at this.?

  Grace nodded. “I thought that’d be the case,” she said.

  ?Three days should be more than fast enough, though,? I said. ?It’s still a few days faster than walking the whole distance, even assuming that the roads are good all the way there, which is a big assumption.?

  Grace gave a quick thumbs-up and started folding the map back up. I felt a touch on my flank, and looked down to see Juniper sitting up and pawing at me. I gave her a few gentle strokes along her back.

  “What are we going to do with her?” Grace asked in a low tone.

  I frowned nervously. ?What do you mean?? I asked.

  Grace bit her lip and glanced around like she was afraid we were being listened in on. “Juniper,” she said. “Are we going to try and take her with us or not? I’m worried about how she’ll handle flying, and you know that the roads are pretty dangerous out here.”

  ?Of course we’re taking her!? I said. I lowered a wing protectively over the dog. ?We can’t just leave her here. She’s old, she’d starve!?

  Grace held up a defensive hand and leaned in closer. “I didn’t mean leave her alone! I thought we might be able to find someone willing to take care of her. I just don’t want her to get hurt if we get attacked by monsters or people out there.”

  ?I’ll protect her. We’re not leaving her here. We can’t.? A growl escaped my throat at the thought. ?There isn’t even anyone around here who’d want her, anyway. Her working days are done, and no one in Vandermaine rich enough to take care of a dog that can’t do any work is looking for a pet right now. Not that I’d trust those people with taking care of Juni in the first place.?

  Grace glanced between me and the white lump sitting beneath my wing and gave an uncertain but acquiescent nod. “Okay, then,” she said. “We’ll need to figure out a way to carry her. I can hang onto your back, but Juni can’t, and we definitely don’t want her falling off.”

  I stared at the ground for a moment before an idea sprang to mind. ?I’ll be right back,? I said, and headed into the house. It was tight quarters for me now, but I still had just enough room to manoeuvre without knocking anything I cared about off the tables. Old, empty salt and sugar jars wouldn’t be doing me any good anymore, anyway. I almost went for Mr. Lawcrest’s room, but thought better of it right as I reached for the door and made for mine instead. I grabbed the mattress off my bed and took a measure of rope on my way back outside.

  Grace tilted her head in confusion and gave a single questioning laugh as I set the mattress down on the ground. “What are you…?” she trailed off.

  ?It’s the closest thing I could think of to a saddle on short notice,? I said. I started tearing holes in the covering, removing a large shred from the top before hollowing out some of the wool on the inside near the front to create a little alcove half-covered by the remainder of the cloth sheet. Then, I cut two small jagged holes on the bottom and looped the rope through.

  ?It’s needed new wool for years now, but that does at least mean it’s less bulky,? I said. ?If we tie it tight enough, Juni should be pretty secure inside this hollow here, and you can use the back part as a seat. Hopefully it’ll last until we get to the dragoons. I’d bet that they have proper dragon saddles.?

  “They definitely do,” Grace said slowly.

  I sat the makeshift seat on the middle of my back, between my wings, and pulled the ends of the rope around and into the tightest knot I could make. The main trick was adjusting to the size difference; thankfully, while my fingers had lost a good bit of dexterity in the change, I could still tie a knot.

  ?That should be good,? I said, setting back down on all fours and giving a few experimental rotations of my wings to make sure the saddle didn’t get in the way too much. ?We’ve got a route, we’ve got supplies. You should get on and make sure it’s adjusted well enough, but after that we should go. I don’t want to be flying at dusk still, if possible.?

  “Right,” agreed Grace. She slung the pack over her shoulder and placed her spear in its holster. “Okay, Juni, come on.” She knelt down and, despite some weak protest from the dog, picked up Juniper and cradled her in her arms. She did it with shocking ease, too; Grace must have gotten really strong over the last five years.

  I laid flat on my belly while Grace precariously stepped up onto my flank and then onto the saddle and set Juniper down by the hollow. I turned my head around to check on her, and watched Juni stand in confused stillness for a few moments before turning in circles three times and flopping down just like in her straw bed in the stables, seemingly happy with the cushion. Grace struggled a little more to get into a comfortable position, but eventually settled on lying down on her stomach and holding onto the fastening ropes.

  ?Good enough?? I asked.

  “It’s not very comfortable, but I’ll live,” said Grace.

  I nodded and stood, walking for a bit and then picking up into a jog to let those two get used to the seat. ?Ready?? I finally asked.

  Grace steeled her eyes and gave a cocky smile. “Ready! Take us up!”

  I faced forward and took a deep breath. This time, I only needed one jump to get us into the air, knowing from the start to use my wings to take us higher and stabilise. I felt Juniper jolt as we launched into the air, but other than a few discomforted whines, she seemed like she was handling it really rather well, all things considered. I angled up and kept flapping my wings until we were a hundred or more feet over the ground before settling into a easy, slow glide northward.

  Despite the relatively slow speed, I still felt a gentle rush of excitement as we made our way over the foothills at the base of the Fountainheads. Part of it was that same feeling I had last night: the simple joy of being in the air like this, the same feeling I had as a kid when Grace and I would race down a slope really fast and get to the bottom nearly tripping over ourselves and screaming with laughter, only much stronger. But when I turned my head around to look behind us at the blob that was the town of Vandermaine as it faded into the mountains, I realised the rest of it was a kind of panicky, nervous excitement at leaving. It had only been fifteen, twenty minutes and we were already farther from the town than I had ever been.

  Grace followed my gaze and chuckled. “Scary, isn’t it?” she said, having to raise her voice over the winds up here.

  ?A bit, yeah,? I said. I fixed my eyes forward again and almost immediately broke and looked back towards home. By now, I couldn’t even see it anymore; it had disappeared completely behind the high hills. ?Is this what it felt like when you left??

  Grace turned her eyes towards the horizon. “Maybe some. I left because I wanted to, though. I always wanted to leave, at least a little bit. It hurt to leave home behind, but I was also happy to get to see the rest of the world. You wouldn’t believe how beautiful the Vale can be.” She scratched her chin, getting lost in her thoughts. “Maybe we’ll be able to pass by the Juniper Hills in the west sometime on this journey. I think that you’d love them.”

  I angled downward to keep us at least relatively close to the ground as the hills began to fade away and the trees that shrouded the lower Fountainheads thinned until they were little more than tiny copses in little valleys and gulches. Ahead, I could already see the gently rolling plains of the moor spread out to the distant northern horizon, with barely any trees in sight. The wide-open space felt exposed. I didn’t like that feeling, nor did I like how the winds picked up speed as the trees that normally broke it up ran out.

  ?I’m not so sure we’ve hit the “beautiful” part yet…? I muttered to myself.

  “What?” called Grace. “You’ll have to speak up! It’s pretty loud up here.”

  I snorted and shook my head. ?How am I talking to you, anyway?? I asked. ?I always thought dragons couldn’t talk.?

  “They can’t speak human languages,” said Grace. “What is it that you’re doing?”

  ?I’m not exactly sure,? I said, giving myself a few seconds to figure out the words to describe it. ?It’s like…it’s like I’m “throwing” my thoughts out. Or, “pushing” them, maybe. I don’t know a good word for it. It feels very natural, though, but strange.?

  “To me, it sounds like you’re just talking to me,” said Grace. “Though, it’s also strange on my end. I can hear your voice, but it sounds like it’s coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. But I can still hear it, it’s not just in my head.”

  I bristled a bit, the crests along my neck briefly flexing. ?Sounds like magic, then,? I said. After all this, I was starting to take a pretty bad view of magic.

  “It is,” said Grace. “Or, it’s supposed to be something like it. From what I’ve heard, dragons have languages, just not ones that humans can really speak. But supposedly, the dragoons’ bonds with dragons lets them use something called ‘dragonspeech’. I don’t know exactly what that is, but maybe that’s what you’re doing?”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  ?But…I’m not “bonded”, or whatever, right?? I said.

  “I don’t think so,” said Grace. “It’s just a guess. If it’s anything else, then I have no idea.”

  I paused, furrowing my brow in thought. ?So does that mean I won’t be able to talk to anyone other than you?? I asked, a hint of fear creeping into my words.

  “I don’t know that either,” said Grace. “I never met any bonded dragons. But we will, soon.” She reached up to pat my shoulder just above my wing. “And if you can’t, I’ll be your interpreter. Or we can get you a slate to write on. Okay?”

  I huffed as an answer. I was glad for her support, and logically I knew there were normal humans out there who couldn’t talk either, but it was still a hell of a thought to have to grapple with suddenly. Especially on top of everything else that had been locked out of my reach now.

  The sun crawled across the sky as we kept on, well into the moor now. The land out here seemed like how barren deserts had been described to me, save for the lack of sand. Smooth hills and long, sloped valleys went out in every direction, with almost no plants but grass and some heather, and no shelter except for odd outcrops of rock, tors I think they were called, jutting out out of the landscape. As we kept going, though, small settlements began to appear. First little more than independent shacks and isolated hamlets of no more than six buildings, they steadily became more and more frequent until, as the sun dropped low and tinted the landscape a faint yellow, a proper town appeared on the horizon.

  It was still a small thing, smaller even than Vandermaine, but it was the second-largest settlement that I had ever seen. A couple hundred buildings clung to the top of a wind-blasted hill at the edge of the flat land, surrounded by a a high palisade wall. The exterior was ramshackle and improvised-looking enough that it almost looked like the village only came up a few days ago, but the sag of the dark brown brick and wood buildings under their own weight and the overgrown cobblestone streets said otherwise. A handful of homesteads were dotted around the outskirts, most of them clearly the homes of shepherds and goatherds whose animals grazed in open fields nearby. To the east, I could just make out the rigid outlines of some kind of grass-less, open pit, probably a quarry or a mine.

  “Doesn’t look like this town has a landing spot,” said Grace. “Bring us down outside the gates.”

  I nodded and angled downward into a wide spiral. My landing was much more graceful than my last one, though I still set down with a heavy whumph as I beat my wings for control in the descent, which sent flecks of grass and dust flying in all directions, and my hands and feet got covered in dirt and grass clippings as I dug my claws in the ground to halt our momentum.

  Grace jumped to the ground, swinging her pack around and rifling through it. “Okay,” she said. She pulled a small earthenware jug from the pack, instantly cutting its size by half. She held it up, taking a quick swig before handing it towards me. “Drink. You’ll need it. Then we’ll go get some more water.”

  I grabbed the jug, giving it a dubious eye. It was small enough for me to cup my hand around it, though with my size, that meant it held about a gallon. I wasn’t too familiar with the water needs of anything other than humans, sheep, and dogs, but based on how big I was, I guessed I needed a good bit more than a gallon. I drained the almost entire thing in one go before handing it back to Grace.

  ?Give the last of it to Juni,? I said. ?We’re definitely going to need a lot more. I’m still thirsty.?

  Grace climbed halfway back into the makeshift saddle to let Juniper greedily lap up the remaining water. The dog was panting fast and shallow. The landing must have spooked her. My heart ached at that, but there wasn’t really a way around it.

  “There should be more than enough in town,” said Grace. “Hopefully it won’t be more than a couple pence to draw it up for you. We’ll need to stop at any watering holes and rivers we see for the rest of the way, though. I don’t have any barrels, or the money to buy them, so all we’ll be living on is the jug and whatever we can find.”

  I snorted. “Great,” I said. “Moor pond water. My favourite.”

  Grace batted my shoulder as she stepped back down onto the ground. “Oh, be quiet,” she said. “You’ll live. We’ll boil all of the gross things out of it. That should be easy; you’ve got fire, right?”

  I thought back to the strange prismatic flames I summoned in the tunnels under the temple, and it occurred to me that I still didn’t know how I had actually done that. It had been on accident, and I hadn’t tried to breathe fire again since then.

  ?Probably,? I hedged.

  Grace narrowed her eyes at that and shrugged. “Well, I’ve got a tinderbox, so it should be fine anyway.” She put the jug away and pulled the pack up onto her shoulder again. “Come on.”

  I followed her as she strode up to the broad wooden gates and pushed them open with ease. As we headed through, I caught a glimpse of some wound rope and turning wheels sheltered inside small wooden boxes and connected to the other side of the gate. A locking mechanism, maybe? Or something that lightened the load of pushing the gates open during the day? I wished I had the time to linger and inspect the fascinating contraption a little more, but we had to keep going.

  A spectre of unease hung over the town, and it wasn’t just the presence of a dragon causing it, although I did receive a number of wary glances as we passed through the streets. I kept my head down, avoiding eye contact and focussing on the road.

  The town smelled awful. I knew I must have stronger smell than before, but I was pretty sure that Grace was picking up on it too based on the way her face slowly scrunched up as we continued. It wasn’t just a smell of mud and the typical human filth that accompanies any village or town, though those were there too. It was also the irony scent of blood, the faint stench of sulphurous gunpowder, and…fear? I never knew that “fear” had a smell, but the moment I registered the acidic, somewhat salty scent, I knew what it was. It was all very faint, and it seemed to be stemming from the southwest end of town.

  I closed my eyes for a moment to focus on the smells, sniffing the air gently and trying to see if I could intuit anything else about them. Suddenly, I felt Grace’s hand on my shoulder pulling me harshly away from the road, and heard her whisper, “Step aside!”

  My eyes flew open to see two people walking down the street in front of us. Though the summer evening wasn’t especially cold, the strangers wore long and heavy coats of dense fabric, accompanied by equally heavy gloves and boots. Leather straps with a couple empty loops attached went over their coats like bandoliers, and leather vests were visible underneath them, striking a middle ground between ordinary attire and armour, like they were trying to be undercover. They were both wearing slim, black, old-fashioned three-cornered hats, “tricornes” I thought they were called, as well as dark cloth masks pulled up over their mouths and noses. They each had a rather large firearm slung over their back attached to those straps.

  Grace averted her eyes as the strangers passed wordlessly and disappeared into a nearby alley. As soon as they were gone, we picked up the pace towards the town square just ahead, where elevated wooden boards replaced the cobblestones in the street and an ancient-looking well sat alone at the centre.

  ?Who in the bloody hells were they?? I asked, doing my best to angle my “thoughts” towards Grace alone in case I could be overheard by any of the townsfolk.

  “Probably mercenaries, if I had to guess,” said Grace. “Dangerous ones, too.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, suddenly nervous about more of them popping up out of the woodwork. ?How do you know??

  Grace shrugged, putting a penny into a small box by the well and pulling a crank to draw up the bucket. “You get a sense for these things in my line of work. You’ll get used to it too, sooner or later, if you’re travelling with me. I doubt there’s too many of them around. Just don’t make eye contact, don’t talk to them, and hope that they don’t consider you being a dragon to be a threat. If they’re professionals, you’ll be fine. If not, I’ll talk to them.”

  She pulled the bucket up onto the lip of the well. “Here. We’ll get however much you need, it’s only a penny as long as we don’t take more than ten.”

  I went through four buckets of water before I was finally satiated. As she was pulling up a fifth to refill the jug, I rubbed my hand against the scales of my forearm, looking towards the southwestern edge of town.

  ?Hey, Grace,? I said, ?do you smell that??

  She nodded with a grimace. “I do. Blood and gunsmoke.” She looked up and shifted back and forth on her feet. “I think we should go take a look.”

  I immediately deflated at that. ?Are you sure?? I asked. ?Normally people tend to run away from blood and smoke.?

  “Well, those people aren’t me.” Grace finished filling up the jug and hurled the bucket back down the well where it made a loud, echoing splash. “I’ve been through here a few times. Unless they sprouted a bloodcrafting community when I wasn’t looking, the only reason that there’d be a blood smell this strong is if a lot of things died.”

  I tilted my head. Vandermaine didn’t have much in the way of bloodcraft—that is, occult and alchemical trades that relied on the magic powers latent within blood—save for a kooky old alchemist who lived way up by the mines, but there was still occasionally blood on the streets after a drunken brawl or when the butchers down the cliffs had a heavy workload.

  ?I can think of a few reasons,? I said.

  Grace and I stared at each other until she made the first move, grabbing the rope that tied the saddle to my back and pulling me along with her. I was more than strong enough to resist her, but I was blindsided by five-year old habits that said to follow.

  “Oh, come on, Belfry,” she said as we moved back onto the wider roads that radiated out from the central square. “We can’t just ignore it if someone’s in trouble. And if it really is nothing, then you’ll have gotten to rest your wings for a few minutes more before we go back in the air.”

  Several scathing remarks came to mind, but I held my tongue. It’s not like you can’t take care of yourselves, I reminded myself. Besides, maybe you’ll get paid if you do something for the town. The prospect of possibly getting some money in my hands was more than enough to get me following Grace of my own volition.

  We veered off the road and through a few side streets just broad enough not to be cramped for me as we followed our noses. Juniper whined from her bed as we got closer, evidently able to smell the same thing we did and not liking it very much.

  It all culminated in another square, this one smaller than the first by a wide margin. It sat next to another gate, also much smaller than the one we entered. Only, this one was off its hinges. One half hung open, leading to a small trail down the hill that ran towards the moor, a badly-maintained cobblestone track that petered out into little more than a slight impression in the grasses. The other was propped up against the wall, covered in char and half burned on the side that once attached to the wall.

  In fact, the entire square had evidence of a recent fire. Soot stains littered the cobbles, alongside the rusty brown of dried blood. The ruins of a couple public benches had been moved up next to the surrounding buildings, half-burned and chopped into firewood. The window of one of the buildings surrounding the square, a farrier’s by the looks of it, was shattered, the glass shards still littering the street. The place was silent as a charnel house; the only sounds I could hear were the calling of crows perched up on the rooftops and the more distant, gentle bustle of the village’s evening traffic.

  Grace knelt down by one of the soot stains near a barren patch of earth in the middle of the square. “I knew it,” she muttered. “This was an attack.”

  I snorted. ?Never would have guessed.?

  “Belfry, this is serious,” Grace snapped. She turned her attention back to the soot, running her finger across it as though she could divine its origin by feel. “Must have been either a monster that can produce flames, or people. Given the odour of gunpowder, I’m guessing it’s people.”

  ?Of course it’s people,? I said, moving up alongside to get a closer look. My eyes wandered to the bloodstains, and I scowled at them. ?Wait, that can’t be right…? I muttered out loud.

  “What?” asked Grace. “What is it?”

  I shook my head and tapped at a set of arcs. ?See this?? I said. ?Blood goes in arcs like this when someone gets slashed. So, if this were a brigand raid or something, you’d think people would get cut with swords. But swords only have one blade.? I traced my own claws through the stains, just to make absolutely sure they were all congruent. ?So why are there five…??

  Grace gave me a sideways glance. “How do you know all that?” she asked.

  I did not return the look. ?Exposure,? I said evasively. ?Look, that’s not important right now. What is important is that, unless some bandits are carrying around five-pointed swords, this was clearly a monster. These are claw marks. The powder smell must just be from the town’s guard fighting them off.?

  “But, Belfry…” said Grace. She stood and walked to the one gate that was still attached, swinging it open a little more. She pointed to a small pit in the wood, a pit where a small piece of metal glimmered in the evening sun. “There’s bullet holes in the outside of the gate. How does that happen, unless the attackers have guns?”

  I held my breath for a moment in thought. ?I don’t like this,? I said.

  “Me neither,” Grace agreed as she came back over.

  ?We should leave, now,? I said.

  “Whoa, no we shouldn’t?” Grace said, waving her hands. “We should ask someone who was here what happened, at the very least. What if the attackers come back? These people could be in real danger.”

  I hissed. ?That’s not our responsibility, Grace,? I said. ?It doesn’t even seem like they did that much damage.?

  Grace faltered in bewilderment at that, before gesturing widely at the square around us. “This is a lot of damage, Belfry,” she said. “I think you might have a…skewed view of these things. Because of…. You know.”

  I did know, and I didn’t appreciate it being brought up. ?We can’t babysit the whole province, Grace.?

  “Belfry, please,” said Grace. “You know that if this were your home—”

  Our argument was cut short by a creaky wooden door slowly swinging open. I jumped at the sound, whipping my head towards the source. A woman had stepped out of the building just by the wall, opposite the broken and deserted farrier’s. Her face sagged with both age and trepidation, and she wore a large, rough leather apron heavily stained with some smattering of oils. The entryway behind her had the reek of a tannery.

  She wrung her hands when she saw that we noticed her. “Excuse me,” she said, her voice rattling like dry reeds. “Are you…are you with the dragoons?”

  Grace started to shake her head no, but I cut ahead of her. ?Yes we are!? I nearly shouted, this time trying to push my thoughts out in every direction at once.

  The lady jumped, her eyes frantically scanning us in search of the speaker. “Who said…?”

  I raised a hand. ?That was me,? I said, keeping my voice softer and friendlier this time. ?I’m the dragon. Hello.?

  The woman wrung her hands again and stared pointedly down at the ground. “Oh, saints. I see.”

  ?We are dragoons,? I confirmed again, trying to hold myself with a bit more of an authoritative bearing. ?Well, she’s a dragoon. I’m…you know what I mean.?

  I flicked Grace in the side with my tail to nudge her into the conversation. “Yes!” she agreed suddenly, glowering hard at me but playing along for now. “We’re in training. I’m Grace, Grace Lawcrest. This is….” She gestured towards me and fumbled.

  I guessed “Belfry” wasn’t a very draconic name. But what was? I wracked my brain, trying to remember what Grace had told me about her knights and dragons books all those years ago. Famous dragons were always named after some thing, right? Like a plant, or a cloud, or a colour, or a gemstone. So how about….

  ?Coral?? I suggested directly to Grace.

  “Coral!” Grace finished, relief evident on her face.

  The woman seemed to let go of some of her nervousness once we had identified ourselves. “My name is Mary,” she said. “Mary Cutler.”

  “Sorry it seems we’re meeting in these kinds of circumstances, Mrs. Cutler,” Grace said, finishing the niceties a little limply. “Also, sorry to have startled you. We’re in training, you see, and were flying north towards Wrightsmouth, when we saw—” she gestured broadly to the square around her “—all this, and thought we should stop by and make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous going on. Do you mind if I ask exactly what happened here?”

  Mary’s nervousness returned immediately at that. She glanced down the narrow road we came from, then up at the sky. “I shouldn’t say,” she said. “The chasseurs instructed us not to.”

  ?“Chasseurs”?? I repeated.

  “Hunters,” said Mary. “The fellows with the large guns and three-pointed hats.”

  Grace’s face turned stony. “What, did they threaten you?”

  “Not as such,” said Mary, still looking around like we might be being listened in on. “They are from the province capital. They came yesterday morning. They said that they’re here to…‘monitor’ something. An outbreak, they said.”

  “An outbreak of what?” asked Grace.

  “I don’t know,” said Mary. “But whatever it is, it’s important enough that the Bryn Corben Watch aren’t interfering at all. And the hunters, they came to see what happened here, too, and they said not to tell anyone what we saw.”

  Grace crossed her arms, holding her head high. “Well, we promise they won’t find out that you told us,” she said. “We want to help. That’s all. Or, at the very least know what to look out for around here.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Was it bandits? It looks like a bandit raid to me.”

  Mary paused. She bowed her head and muttered a quick prayer. “O, Saint Gideon, grant me blooded blessings of understanding.” Then she raised her hand and made the Luminary Vow gesture, before she finally raised her head to speak to us again.

  “I don’t know exactly who they were,” she said in a whisper so quiet it was barely audible. “I thought bandits. Sordid men from the moor, they’ve tested the village walls before to get at the furs and leathers we trade. There were five of them, carrying torches and swords, and they broke in through the gate.”

  ?Did they have any monsters with them?? I asked. ?Or at least dogs??

  “No,” said Mary. “They were alone. But, there was something strange about them.” Her eyes took on a haunted look. “They were tall, gaunt. Their feet had torn clean through their boots. And their hands….” She drew the Sign of the Chalice again. “Four of them had one arm that was longer than the other. And the hands, they looked like someone had stitched scythe blades into their fingers.”

  I blinked and leaned back. I wasn’t entirely convinced. Mrs. Cutler had lived through the attack, so maybe she’d just caught some fleeting glimpses through the window that she’d misinterpreted later? But what she was describing was starting to remind me of those bodies in the temple. I shuddered.

  “I don’t know what was wrong with them,” Mary continued. “I think they were what the hunters were after, though. After they broke through the gate, they killed the Watchmen here in the square and broke into Claude’s house over there.” She pointed at the derelict farrier’s. “They dragged him off with them, still alive. The rest of the bodies, they took, too, except for the one of them that was killed in the fight. That one, the hunters took with them after they came here.”

  I furrowed my brow. ?So, did they steal anything valuable?? I asked.

  “No,” said Mary. “Just the dead.”

  “Why did they leave if they’d already killed a bunch of watchmen?” asked Grace.

  “Oh, heavens,” said Mary. “I should think they would have taken the whole village if another one of yours hadn’t stormed out of the sky and chased them off.”

  “What do you mean ‘another one of ours’?” asked Grace.

  Mary gestured vaguely towards me. “You know, your order. A dragoon. She came up out of nowhere and scared the brigands away into the moor. Before I knew it, she was gone too, flying off after them.”

  Grace’s eyes brightened at that. “Do you know which direction they went?” she asked.

  Mary pointed right at the gate. “Straight that way, southwest. Towards the old trappers’ hamlet, Hath Church End. I don’t know if they ended up there, though.”

  A crow squawked loudly from Mary’s rooftop, and she jumped in fright. “Thank you for trying to help us,” she said suddenly, retreating back inside the doorway, “but I really must be getting back to work. May you know truth.” With that, she ducked behind the door, slamming it hard behind her.

  Grace and I stared silently after her for a moment before exchanging a look.

  “A dragoon,” repeated Grace.

  ?As long as she’s remembering right,? I concurred. ?You know what that means??

  “A lead?” said Grace.

  ?A lead,? I agreed. I knelt down, jerking my head towards the saddle. ?Come on. If we’re going to find them before dark, we need to start looking now.?

  Grace smirked as she climbed onto the saddle. “I thought you were against looking into this,” she said.

  ?If it means finding answers now instead of later, or at least getting an escort to somewhere where we’ll get the, I’m willing to risk fighting a few weird bandits,? I said. ?Though we should try to avoid a fight, if we can. I don’t want to risk the off chance that they have some kind of horrifying magic going on for us to deal with.?

  “Sure,” said Grace as I ducked out of the broken gate. I could practically feel her smile widening at the prospect of adventure, no matter how dangerous. All I could give was a sigh.

  “Take us up!” Grace called, and I launched into the sky, flying towards the coral-orange sunset.

  do like the idea of shorter (possibly more frequent) chapters better, but I'm interested to know people's opinions.