The days dragged by longer and slower than a python with a full meal.

     Blue hated lying there, listening to the cold wind screaming outside, prey to the loneliness that gripped her every day. She felt helpless. She trembled with restlessness, like the feeling one gets when they desperately want to stretch. She had to do something. Anything to escape the silence. Sosna was gone the majority of the time, but he did not ignore her wants. She was warm and well cared for. Her sides were already healing, and she could move her tail without stabbing pain. She could even roll over, if she was cautious.

     How ridiculous it all is, she thought one night as she turned over carefully, holding her right foreleg tucked close. I'm waiting eagerly for a dragon I don't even know.

     The sun was setting outside. The light in the great hall was fading, faint shadows stretching across the floor. Sosna always left her door open now, and she could see the fire crackling on the large hearth. It never went out before he returned, after the first day. She suspected he built it up more, so it would last longer and she wouldn't be left in the dark.

     I know his name. That's all. Sosna.

     She had been trying to figure him out in the past few days, like a puzzle to ease the boredom. But he was a complete mystery, and it frustrated her. Were all IceWings like this? Unreadable and enigmatic? Or was it his NightWing side? She remembered a NightWing who had visited Lamprey Cove once, a cold, proud black dragon with yellow eyes and a scar across his flank. His wings flared and a warning rumbled in his throat whenever something displeased him. Was Sosna like that?

     No, he has no emotions. He's a block of wood somebody carved to look like a dragon.

     But she remembered his eyes, and knew that the dark IceWing had feelings, and secrets of his own.

     Why did he always have heaps of furs? What did he do all day? Why did he live in this fortress in the middle of nowhere? Why was his left foreleg bandaged? She knew it wasn't injured like hers, she had seen him use it just as well as his right. The bandages were tightly wrapped, and never bloodstained. He didn't walk with a limp. It was her current mystery, and so far had proved to be as hopeless as the rest of the hybrid.

     Blue lay still, lost in her thoughts, pushing Sosna to the back of her mind. She focused on her own foreleg. Fractured, he had said.

     But she had three others, and they were fine.

     I wonder... can I stand yet? I'm just weak, there's no real problem with them. She stretched one wing outward, the tip brushing the low stone ceiling of the infirmary. There's no reason I shouldn't be ready to walk. I can't lay here pathetically for another minute. She folded her wings and cautiously pushed herself up with her right foreleg, settling into a half-reclining position.

     Good so far.

     Her claws ticked on the stone floor as she eased herself off the bed.

     Just a little more—

     And she stood, balancing unsteadily on three legs, holding the fourth close to her body. Not that it could really be anywhere else—it was strapped around her shoulders with bandages. She could move it slightly, though, and tucked it tighter as she hopped her front foot forward. Her first step. Exhilaration flooded through her, and she limped into the hall, ignoring a stab of dizziness in her temples.

     "Ha!" she said aloud, turning her neck to look around her, savoring the feeling of the floor beneath her talons. A rush of pleasure rippled through her body as she stretched. It felt so good to finally move! Black spots swam across her vision, and she suddenly felt nauseous. Resolutely swallowing it, she blinked hard and looked about her.

     The hall was immense, at least to her. The ceiling rose high above, gigantic carven beams arching to the center support. She saw the figures of wolves and caribou etched into the wood, intricately carved seals and seabirds and waves gracefully twining down each beam. 

     There were alcoves set in the walls on each side of the fire. In one a staircase wound up into darkness until it was hidden from view; in the other, racks of weapons hung—knives and staves and the unwieldy but deadly fiaclamhs. She briefly considered taking one down and looking at it, but she quickly dismissed the idea: she'd probably behead herself just trying to lift it off its hooks.

     A large, sturdy wooden door was across the room, and there was a window in the wall on either side of it. She could make out another stone wall through it; probably the outer ring. Faint light trickled through the opening, but most came from the fire blazing on the hearth. An arched doorway led into another room, presumably the keep, but it was swathed in shadow and she was not keen on exploring it.

     "Ha!" Blue said again, elated.

     I am strong enough, Mother.

     "I did it. I really.." her head swam and blood roared in her ears.

     "...did it."

     Her legs buckled and her vision blurred. The SeaWing crumpled to the floor. Nausea poured over her like a sour rain, and she tasted bile in her throat. She was tilting and spinning, a whirling top in an endless black, her head throbbing as she fought the urge to vomit. She closed her eyes, succumbing to the pain.

                                               • • •

     Blue lay silently, the blackness slowly filtering away, replaced by a warm, flickering light somewhere beyond her closed eyelids. She marveled at the tiny shapes hovering in the void, squiggles and dots that resisted every attempt to focus on them; forms and yet formless. Slowly she was aware of a warm breath on her ear. Her eyes flickered, then opened.

     Blue immediately stifled a hiss and the instinctive reaction to jerk back.

     Sosna's head was about an inch away.

     She quickly realized that he hadn't noticed she was awake. He was intently examining the webbing between her horns, and she found herself staring up at his pale-scaled jaw. She was back in the bed, and feeling much worse than before. Her excursion hadn't done her much good, it seemed.

     Sosna hummed thoughtfully and pulled back, staring blankly at her but not seeing her. He tapped a razor-sharp claw pensively on the floor, then he shook his head and his eyes focused, meeting hers.

     Blue expected a start, or perhaps a slight embarrassment, but there was no surprise at finding her conscious, only a calm glance. Suddenly annoyed at his refusal to react, she hissed, letting out the steam of the frustration that had been boiling in her throat all day.

     He exhaled with a slight snort, looking bemused. "I should be the one hissing, SeaWing. How many times have I told you to stay put?"

     Her temper flared. If she wasn't so infernally bored, she might not have done something stupid.

     "Your webbing is torn," he added, motioning with his claws to a vague area between his own horns.

     She narrowed her eyes, trying to think of something sharp to say, something to pierce his armor. She burned with the desire to wound, to hurt. To get him to show something, even if it was anger. But all she could think of was, "Quit calling me SeaWing."

     "Since you refuse to give me your name, I have no other choice," he responded, sitting back on his haunches and meeting her angry gaze. He did not mention the fact that she usually called him 'IceWing'.

     Blue had withheld her name from him, harboring suspicion. She barely knew him, after all, and her mother had said to never give your name to strangers.

     Sosna had asked her once, realized she wouldn't share it, and gave up. She had been somehow disappointed that he hadn't asked again, but the disappointment was quickly forgotten in annoyance as he addressed her as 'SeaWing'. Not that she should have been annoyed—she rarely called him by his name, either.

     "Make up a name, then," she said scornfully, reveling in the feeling of letting out her anger, but inwardly shocked at her behavior.

     "Alright," he replied, tilting his head to the side. The movement reminded her of a falcon—the same quick, smooth tilt, the same steely, emotionless gaze. "Squidge it is, then."

     "Squidge?" she sputtered, pulling herself into a more upright position. That's almost as bad as Squid, but sounds squishier. How old is he, one? A two-year-old dragonet would have a better idea than that. 

     He eyed her for a moment, a hint of amusement glittering in his eyes, then he got to his talons. "It fits you," he said calmly.

     "It does not!" she snapped furiously. "It's a horrible name, straight from the pits of Tartarus, you pale icechomping leafsnorter. Spike-headed dufflewad. Idiot."

     She paused for a moment, breathing heavily. Her mind raced, whirling angrily, searching for insults like a butcher selecting knives. But none seemed to work.

     "You...you coward."

     That sank home. He jerked back, his eyes cold, then whirled and disappeared. The door swung shut behind him, and the SeaWing glared into the darkness.

     Her victory meant nothing any more, now that she had finally gotten to him. Why? He hadn't actually been a coward. She had merely seized on the word at random and hurled it at him, and the dark IceWing had finally reacted. And strongly, at that.

     As her anger cooled, it didn't seem so bad. He had called her Squidge, after all.

     "Squidge," she muttered, then shut her eyes tightly, ashamed of her behavior. What had gotten into her?

     Blue knew she needed to apologize, but she didn't want to. A tiny, unreasonable part of her was still angry at Sosna, but she squashed it and willed herself to apologize the next time he came in.

     It's nearly time to eat, so I should get my chance soon.

     Unless I really annoyed him. I probably have, and now I'm going to starve to death in this miserable little room.

     Blue heaved an exaggerated sigh, more tired than frustrated now. The spark of anger had gone as quickly as it had come, leaving nothing behind but regrets.

     Regrets, and a starving dragon.

     She absentmindedly ran her talons through the fur of her bed, twirling it into tufts with a circular motion of one claw. Her broken foreleg ached terribly, but she ignored it as best she could.

     She was broken from her jumbled thoughts by a delicious smell and a rumbling of her stomach. She hadn't eaten all day—if you didn't count a small plover in the morning. The entrancing scent came from the hall, and she recognized it immediately. Freshly caught salmon.

     Closing her eyes, she tried to sleep it off, but the smell was irresistible. Gradually the scent faded, and she slumped into the furs. I knew it. I'm going to die right here in this sad little infirmary. Will he bury my body, or leave it here?

     What if he leaves it here, gets snowed under and trapped inside, starts to starve, and eats it?

     She shivered dramatically, and made up her mind.

     "Sosna?"

     Her hesitant voice echoed in the chamber, a fainter version reverberating in the great hall. There was a rustle and clack of talons, the door creaked open, and the IceWing's head appeared in the entrance.

     He looked the same; seeming relaxed, almost listless, but with an alertness in his posture, a tension in the corners of his mouth. It made her think of a deer—calm, but ready to run at a moment's notice. There was a slight furrowing of his brows he stood, waiting, as she sat silently, and her hunger was forgotten as she remembered the real reason she needed to make amends.

     "I'm.."

     Blue scrabbled desperately for the right words, not making eye contact. "I apologize for my behavior earlier. I should not have snapped, and...and I should not have gotten out of bed. I am sorry for calling you a coward, I was being rude and...thoughtless."

     It was a pitiful offering, but it was all she could think of to say.

     "I accept your apology," Sosna said. His tone seemed almost indifferent.

     She looked up. His face hadn't changed in the slightest, but he looked less stiff.

     "Were you afraid I wasn't going to feed you?" he asked suddenly. There was faint amusement in his voice.

     "Yes, please don't eat my corpse," she blurted without thinking.

     He stared.

     "I mean, if I died and you couldn't find food, or got snowed in—was really hungry—everyone knows IceWings will eat other dragons if they have to—" she stammered helplessly. Sosna said nothing, but his eyebrows lifted.

     Wow, Blue, you're really not making things better!

     "I'm sorry!" she burst out, folding one wing over her face and glaring into the blue membrane draped in front of her snout. She would be glad if she never had to talk to him again. Her ears were scarlet with embarrassment.

     When she gingerly pulled her wing away, she could see his the tip of his tail sliding out of view.

     What was that? You didn't have to say that! I mean—it was true, but still—

     She heard him approaching again and sat up, wondering why she always made their interactions so bizarre. First you call him a coward, then apologize, then insinuate he's a cannibal. Do you not know how to handle talking to another dragon? To be true, the long isolations left her high-strung and rather volatile, but she resolved to act more mature.

     Sosna entered the room with a wooden trencher held carefully in his teeth. On it lay several thick slabs of salmon. The fresh pink meat, with streaks of dark purple under the shining skin, made her mouth water and she swallowed, curling her tail over her hind talons.

     Sosna set it on the edge of the bed and drew back, eyeing her with a hint of a smile.

     "I assure you, your exceedingly strange personage is perfectly safe from me, Squidge," he said, and left.