Warmth.

Darkness.

Blue Shark opened her eyes, then immediately shut them again.

No.

Absolutely not.

She refused to believe she was dead.

Perhaps if she lay very still, and very quietly, with her eyes screwed tightly shut, Hades would simply pass her by as he took in the souls of deceased dragons. But there was only silence, and she slowly, carefully, opened one eye.

There it was.

Nothing.

She was dead, and waiting at the gates of the Underworld.

It was pitch black down there, wasn't it?

Feeling strangely dizzy, she tried to raise a talon, to wave it in front of her face, but searing pain shot through her body like fire. Her back arched and she gritted her teeth, biting back a scream. Her wings trembled and she took slow, shallow breaths.

Surely souls did not feel pain. And what was she laying on?

Blue opened her watering eyes as wide as they could go, and blinked once, twice, to clear them. The pain was beginning to fade. Squinting in the darkness, she looked up, not daring to move her head, then down.

Aha.

A sliver of flickering firelight showed on the floor, undoubtedly coming from under a door.

I'm still a mortal after all.

The dizzy feeling increased, and she winced. The world tilted, spun, and tipped her off the edge into a swirl of inky purple dreams.

An owl hooted close outside. Blue's slow, raspy breathing filled the room as she slept.

• • •

When she came to, a fire was crackling merrily somewhere nearby and a strong smell of herbs filled the air. She sleepily rubbed her scaly cheek on whatever softness she was lying on, and opened her tired eyes.

Her vision was blurry, but at least everything wasn't black any more. Thank goodness. Blinking hard, she concentrated, and a dark, slender, dragon's face swam into focus.

She recoiled, hissing at the pain the movement brought. Who was that?

The stranger was a tall IceWing, standing directly beside her. He had a mortar in one talon, and the other was on the edge of the bed, as if he had just approached. A bloody cloth was draped over his arm, as if he had used it to mop up a scarlet puddle.

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Was that from me? No, he's too dark for an IceWing. But Creek said IceWings were the ones with the spiny things. Why is his arm wrapped in bandages? Maybe I scratched him in my sleep. That would be funny. Actually, it wouldn't. That's a lot of blood. I hope it's not from my face—am I bleeding on my face? Who is he? He's probably a hybrid. Where am I? His claws are sharp!

Hybrid or not, she did not know who he was. She bared her teeth warningly, and the smell of herbs immediately filled her nose and throat, sharper and more pungent than before. She recognized thyme among other things, but one smell in particular seemed to stab her nose and throat like old wine. Good Gaia, had he been rolling in herbs? 

"You stink," she said, and was startled by the hoarseness of her voice. She almost didn't recognize it.

Her declaration earned her nothing but the raising of a brow. She thought she briefly saw a hint of a smile, but the dragon's face was unreadable.

She fell silent, looking at his eyes. They were deep brown eyes, warm eyes, wells of untold stories and unknown sorrows. She felt that if she stared at them for too long she might drown in their depths...

She blinked and looked away, and he leaned over her, dipping one talon into the mortar and spreading something cool and tingly over her side with gentle touches. She let out a breath of relief. Whatever it was, it felt wonderful, and lessened the burning pain. He moved down onto her tail, unwrapping bandages, wiping away blood, and applying the poultice.

She slowly flexed her body, feeling carefully for injuries. Her foreleg she left still, remembering the blaze of agony.

A dull, uncomfortable burning still pervaded her body. She didn't want to know how she looked.

Her tail was stiff, and her stomach and sides ached sharply, as if they carried the memory of grating rock and sharp ice. There were bruises on her face and jaw—she could feel them when she spoke—and her wings were sore.

That seemed to be all. She cautiously fanned her back fins and contracted her gills. Everything else was working fine.

She knew she was lucky to be alive, let alone in such good condition. She couldn't repress a shiver at the remembrance of the roaring waves and freezing spray like daggers piercing her scales. She remembered falling asleep on the spire of rock, then feeling light as air, drifting away into nothingness.

Then this place.

She looked around, mostly to distract herself from the pain. There wasn't much to see in the room, just smooth stone walls and shelves of jars. Bundles of herbs hung from the low beams of the ceiling.

And the stranger, now wrapping one of her hind legs in gauze soaked with some sort of oil.

She let out a small huff, tired of silence. Who was he?

She looked through the open door and into another room. A pot was cooking over a large fireplace, and a large pile of furs lay on the stone floor nearby. Other than that, the room seemed empty. She blinked and tried to focus on random details to draw her mind away from the burning sensation that was growing in her foreleg.

His claws drew away, and she closed her eyes, listening to quiet clinking and rustling as he cleaned the mortar and put everything away. Her scales felt hot and uncomfortable, and a spasm passed over her. She was in agony now, though she hadn't moved it. She let out a choked sob, gritting her teeth. It was as if a dragon was torching her leg.

Get it off, cut it off, it's too much, too much—

There was a sharp intake of breath from the IceWing, and the swift click of claws on stone as he spun around.

MAKE IT STOP—

He said something, but she did not hear; the blood was roaring in her ears as she struggled to fight the urge to scream.

Without warning a damp cloth was wrapped around her muzzle. Her eyes snapped open and she let out a ragged cry. Her wings trembled as she tried to pull her head away, the overpowering smell filling her mouth and nostrils, but she felt too dizzy. Waves of black washed over her, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

Everything went dark again.

Blue woke with a start, lying still for a few moments to calm her racing heartbeat. Her head felt clearer, and her leg no longer hurt.

In fact, she couldn't feel it whatsoever.

That dragon better not have amputated it.

With her right talon she felt for it in the gloom.

It was still there.

She experimentally poked it with a claw.

Nothing. It was completely numb.

With a sigh she adjusted herself, settling deeper into the beds. Furs, she realized. The softness was several furs of varying shades of grey, spread over a straw tick on a bedstead.

Well, it was comfortable.

She yawned and looked through the doorway into the other room. The fire had burnt low, and the pot now sat on the hearth. The pelts were gone, and so was the stranger, it seemed. Everything was silent, except for the occasional pop and snap of an ember.

Inhaling deeply of the earthy herb-smells, she let her thoughts wander.

How long had she been here? Wherever here was. Somewhere in Pyrrhia, at least. She assumed the Ice Kingdom, since that was the most logical explanation. The strange dragon seemed fit, but probably not enough to be able to carry a half-dead SeaWing across the continent.

Where did her mother think she was? What about Seahorse? She let out a bitter chuckle. Seahorse probably hoped she was an icicle at the bottom of the sea.

Joke's on you, eelbreath. I'm still alive.

She remembered the extent of her injuries.

Mostly.

When would her family see her worth? When would she finally prove to them that she wasn't just another clumsy, useless dragonet?

She winced, remembering their endless tirades, their reprimands and scolding.

When would she be good enough?

They definitely weren't going to be impressed when they learned that she had half-drowned on her way to Eyrie.

Eyrie...

She felt as if the SkyWing city was a myth, a fable of a place far away. A legend designed to lure pathetic SeaWings into the jaws of icy gales.

I'll never reach it before winter hits the Ice Continent for real. Healing takes time, but I'm not sure I have it. I don't want to be stuck here for months.

She shifted on the bed, suddenly restless.

Time was running out.