Travelling by cart was excessively boring, at least after the first day or two. Bronston did his best, but he could only pull the cart so far each day before he needed to stop and rest. My clawed feet were not suited towards setting up camp each time we had to stop. I could assist with small tasks such as gathering fire wood, but anything that involved tying a knot was completely beyond me.

  Tying knots, as it turned out, was involved in a great many things humans did. If they did not possess an item made for a task, they tended to cobble one together out of whatever they had on hand.

  What I could do was hunt. I’d not had a chance to appreciate it while cooped up in Edith’s house, but my body had filled out into a powerful physique. Feats of strength and speed that would have eluded me not that long ago now came easily. Tracking and capturing prey was easier than it had ever been in the Cursed Forest.

  I remembered all too vividly how I’d once eaten a smashed ermine after spending a whole day with no other prey. Now, running down an entire brace of fowl was a mere hour or two’s work. My body could whip across the landscape so fast that most creatures didn’t even know I was coming.

  Overeating proved to be a problem I wasn’t expecting. With how easy prey was to come by, resisting the urge to snack was difficult. I doubted that my Cassia would have minded an extra hare or two while I was out hunting.

  It was when she found me passed out in a ditch, gullet full to the bursting, that she took issue.

  Whenever I ate too much it was the same. As soon as I settled down afterwards, I’d shut off like a candle had been blown out. Getting me to move afterwards was allegedly a herculean task. My Cassia and Edith together simply weren’t strong enough to move me.

  “So this isn’t something he’d done before?” Edith asked Cassia as the both of them sat on the cart, exhausted. I was curled up in the back, my head and tail tucked under my wing. Magnus sat up against me in his habitual blanket fort.

  “No!” My Cassia declared in exasperation. “Sure, when he was little he’d snag anything I left lying out, if it was meat.” She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. “But this is… like we let the fox into the henhouse!”

  Edith glanced back at me. I could feel her staring, even if I couldn’t see it. She still hadn’t ‘handled’ me yet. Whatever conversation she was planning to have with me seemed to be on hold until we reached T’laanga.

  “Not to be unkind, lass,” Edith replied. “But we may have done just that. What ye told me about the Cursed Forest sounded… rough. Ye beasty there didn’t eat too much while ye were laid up in me house either. T’were only when ye woke up that he’d spare mind for food.”

  “So he’s… what, been starving, and we just let him out to feast?” My Cassia said with concern. “Is it hurting him? I don’t mind him getting some rest, but we can’t bloody lift him in the cart!”

  “All that body weight had to come from somewhere,” Edith mused. “Just over four moons since ye met him and he’s gone from a wee rabbit to a pony.”

  I didn’t know what a pony was, but I didn’t like it when the ladies talked about me like I wasn’t there. Sluggishly, I pulled my head out from beneath my wing. Looking across the landscape, I could see patches of color appearing through gaps in the snow. Another couple of days and it would be the full Thaw.

  “Oh, our sleeping beasty finally decides to wake,” Edith teased as she saw me move. “Come to devour these two princesses?”

  I grumbled and shifted my body so that I could lay my head down in the front seat. Magnus made a small noise of discomfort before he adjusted and settled back down. I’d not heard the boy speak once since we’d set off on this journey. He didn’t seem to mind me being a dragon at least.

  Edith placed her hand on one side of my head, shortly followed by Cassia on the other. My long tongue curled out of my mouth and ran across my snout before I yawned. ‘Some scritching along my brow ridges would be nice,’ I thought. Not long after they were forthcoming.

  “What’s ‘princess’?” I croaked out. It was hard to stay awake. The sun was shining down and both ladies were patting on me in a way that made a low rumble rise in my chest.

  “Oh! Uhm, it’s… like out of my story books,” Cassia said with a chuckle. “They’re the daughter of a king!” I cracked an eye open at her. That explained nothing.

  “That’s like… a very powerful human,” she continued. “They have a lot of land, money, and have many knights under their command.” Knights? If they were anything like Sir Kenneth, I didn’t think too much of these ‘kings’.

  “Anyhow, a princess is supposed to be… be… beautiful. All the men in the land would seek her hand in marriage. They’d compete in jousts to catch her attention. Or sometimes they’d save her from and evil witch or a dragon-”

  Me and Edith were both staring at Cassia.

  My Cassia’s face went very red. She held up both hands as if to ward us off. Small sputtering noises came out of her lips for several moments before she dropped her hands and her head.

  “M’sorry,” she muttered. Edith just snorted and shook her head.

  “Don’t believe everything you read in storybooks lass,” Edith scoffed. “I’ve met a princess. Only thing remarkable ‘bout her was just how massive a twit she was.”

  “You’ve met a princess?!” Cassia gasped. “You’ve got to tell me-”

  A scream cut her off.

  Bronston reared up in front of the cart before slamming his hooves back down onto the ice-slushed road. Both ladies stopped talking to look around. Neither had been the one to scream. The sound had thoroughly woken me from my stupor. I joined them in looking.

  There wasn’t anyone around. We’d just crested over a low rise with a few trees and scrubby bushes on either side of the road. I didn’t see many places for someone to hide out here. When the scream came again, we all turned our heads to look at the road.

  Standing in the middle of the path was the ugliest looking creature I’d seen yet. It was small in stature, but made up for it in attitude. Though it was far smaller than Bronston, it was languidly staring him down and occasionally giving a horrid screech.

  In appearance, it made me think of a short shaggy furred deer crossed with a sheep. If it was a cross breed, it had all of the worst qualities of both halves of its lineage. A pair of curled horns sprouted from the top of its head. From its chin hung a tuft of hair, like what the human Raban wore. When I looked into its eyes, I saw that its pupils were shaped like squarish slots. Those eyes had a dead and soulless look to them, like it didn’t care for anything in the world.

  “Is that a bloody goat?” Cassia asked incredulously. “What’s it doing all the way out here?”

  “Hmm. It might be T’laanga’s,” Edith mused as she leaned forward on the cart’s seat to stare at the creature. “He was always pretty fond of the things. Never understood why. They’re just smart enough to have an attitude, but just dumb enough to get into-”

  The goat screamed again, interrupting her.

  “-trouble. If it’s T’laanga’s, he shouldn’t be too far off. He’d notice a missing billy pretty quick. Can ye get it on a lead Cassia?”

  My Cassia sighed but hopped down the side of the cart. She took a moment to stretch her body before she walked around to the front of Bronston. It was wise to give the horse a wide berth, especially since he was already spooked.

  Me and Edith watched as Cassia tried to grab the goat by the horn. It turned its head towards her, took a step back, and rammed its head forward into her gut. A growl rose up out of my throat at this creature’s insolence. Edith moved a hand to cover her mouth and stifled a chuckle.

  What followed was a demonstration of stubbornness. Cassia was unwilling to let the goat get away with making a fool of her. The goat was unwilling to stop making a fool out of her at every opportunity. Multiple times, she looked like she had the little cretin wrangled only for it to escape and give her another bruise for her trouble.

  Eventually my Cassia did manage to capture the bastard. A rope was tied around its neck, which was tied onto the end of the wagon. It would be coming with us at Bronston’s pace whether it liked it or not. Personally I didn’t mind if it tried to resist and strangled itself.

  My Cassia stiffly hoisted herself back onto the cart’s seat. Though her winter garb had protected her somewhat, it was clear she’d be feeling this battle for a while.

  “T’laanga better be grateful, or that thing is supper,” Cassia growled. Edith bit her lips, still trying to contain her mirth.

  “I’m sure he will be lass,” Edith tried to reassure my Cassia. “If he isn’t, I’ll toss the billy in a stew, don’t you worry.” She flicked Bronston’s reins and got the cart moving again.

  The goat screamed from behind the cart.

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  T’laanga was not difficult to spot, when you knew what to look for.

  The herd of screaming goats was a dead give away. You could hear the damn things from about a mile off over the low hills. With the Thaw almost upon us, the snow’s sound dampening properties had begun to fade. As the cart approached the herd, I started to wish I could shove snow down the throat of every goat in the world.

  T’laanga himself stood above the herd like a mighty god looking down on his followers. While I only knew a little about ‘gods’ from snippets of my Cassia’s stories and Edith’s occasional insight, I could see the similarities. The primary occupation of T’laanga’s goats seemed to be trying to run away and get themselves killed in inventive fashions. Only the constant application of a long pole with a hook on the end kept them from doing either.

  Edith pulled the cart up next to the herd, which was located in a small field right off the side of the road. Every goat in the field turned their heads to look at us. Their unblinking stares were more than a little offputting. T’laanga didn’t seem to care about our presence at first. He was occupied with untangling two billies who had gotten their horns locked together.

  When he finished, he stood up and I got a better look at him. Even though a grey cloak hung from his shoulders, he only had it loosely fastened. His skin was swarthy, almost the hue of cold charcoal. He was also very tall for a human, standing at just under eighteen hands high. Underneath his clothing, it was evident that his body was tightly corded.

  His hair was done up in a series of tightly woven knots. For some reason, he’d packed clay into the braids. Rather than wear anything on his head, he’d elected to wrap an immense scarf around his neck. Unlike the grey of his cloak, it was a kaleidoscope of interlocking colors and patterns.

  T’laanga shouldered his crook and headed over to us. The herd of goats followed after him like a flock of ducklings.

  “T’laanga, it’s good to see ye again,” Edith said warmly. Even seated on the cart, she didn’t need to look down to look the man in the eye.

  “Madame Edith,” he replied. No other form of greeting was forthcoming. His tone had all the warmth and subtly of a thrown brick.

  “The lass with me is Cassia,” Edith plowed on without seeming to care. “In the back of the cart, the lad in the heavy coats is Magnus. The.. uhm…”

  “Dragon,” T’laanga said.

  “Y- Yes, the Dragon, our wee beasty,” Edith replied gamely. “His name is Sanguine. He’s a sweetheart, once ye get to know him.” I looked at Edith. What about me was sweet? I knew what I tasted like. It was the same taste of blood and meat as most creatures.

  I looked at T’laanga. T’laanga looked at me. We both looked back at Edith.

  “Why are you here Edith?” he asked curtly.

  “Well, ye see dear,” Edith said. “The bloody witch hunters are at it again. Took ‘em a few years this time, but they came knocking. I’m heading t’Summershore with these folks. It’ll be rough living and-”

  T’laanga turned to look at Magnus in the back of the cart. He then looked back to Edith.

  “No,” he said flatly. Without another word, he started walking back across the field. The herd of goats went to follow behind him. It was minus one billy, which was still tied to our wagon.

  “What the he-” Cassia started.

  “We picked up one of ye miscreants lad!” Edith called out at T’laanga’s back. He stopped and turned to look back at us, then at the goat tied onto our cart.

  “You may stay for dinner,” T’laanga said before continuing to leave. He did not turn back a second time.

  “... What the hells was that Edith?” Cassia hissed. “What soft spot? He’s about as friendly as a pissed off badger.”

  “I may have… understated how stiff T’laanga can be around strangers,” Edith said carefully. “Let's get the bloody goat loose. His house should be just around the bend here.”

  T’laanga’s house was closer to a hole in the ground than a proper structure in my estimation. My Cassia’s cabin in the woods had been rough from years living by herself, but this was something else. The thatch roof was a low slope that barely rose above the ground. Grass had grown up out of the straw. With half-melted snow piled up at the edges, it almost looked like part of the hillside.

  As Edith pulled the cart up to the house, I was sure I saw one of the smaller goats eating part of the roof while standing on top of it. The billy we'd tied to the cart had wandered off back to the herd like he’d been out for an afternoon stroll once he was set free. T’laanga showed no sign that he was going to get dinner ready and instead continued to lead his goats through nearby fields.

  Once we were all off the cart and Bronston was settled with a small bag of oats, Edith turned to trudge inside T’laanga’s home. Cassia pursed her lips, following close enough to stick her head in the door but not enter all the wall. Magnus sat on a rickety bench, kicking his legs back and forth.

  “So he fobs ye off and the first thing ye do is settle in to make dinner?” Cassia asked Edith. When I glanced into the house, I could see it was a cramped and dark place. Scents of unwashed human, goat, and dirt floated out of the door. I’d rather sleep outside in the mild chill than go in there.

  “I will if we want something to eat other than old goat leather,” Edith shot back. “It seems the years don’t change much when they pass. He’s like an old goat himself, will eat anything. Traveled to the end of the Four Ways and kept recipes from none of ‘em.”

  “And this is the man who you want to leave Magnus with?” Cassia in consternation. “He seems to like goats better than people.”

  “Maybe he does,” Edith mused. “Goats at least don’t stab ye in the back. They’ll just headbutt ye from the front.”

  Cassia didn’t seem to know how to reply to that. Frankly, I didn’t see much point in the conversation. Either T’laanga would take Magnus, or the child would come with us. If anything, I wasn’t sure why neither woman had mentioned bringing Magnus with us where we were going. Perhaps they thought he would be better off with a male of his own kind?

  While we waited, I watched the small goat on the roof finish its meal of roof thatch, spit it out, then chew it again. The entire process was disgusting, but oddly fascinating to watch. Unlike many creatures humans kept as livestock looked like a decent meal to me, goats would probably make the short list for things I’d avoid eating.

  By the time T’laanga returned from the fields it was getting dark. In a small parade the goats followed after him. As he walked into the house, the herd climbed up onto the roof to bed down for the night. Somehow I suspected that on particularly cold nights, the goats would have slept inside of T’laanga’s home.

  It was too cramped for me to be inside at all. With four humans, they were almost elbow to elbow. I elected to stick my head inside the door so that I could at least listen in to the conversation. When I did so, I confirmed what I’d suspected by scent. T’laanga’s house looked like he never threw anything away. Every spare bit of space was packed with clutter in boxes, sacks, and any conceivable kind of container.

  There was some sense of organization, but it wasn’t one that would make sense to anyone but T’laanga himself. At least the floor wasn’t covered in filth. The straw packed onto the dirt floor did smell like goat though.

  T’laanga didn’t say a word as the humans ate. When he unwound the massive scarf from around his neck and face, I could see that a prominent scar ran across his lower face. It looked like someone had run a knife between his jaws, slicing his cheeks.

  It was only when dinner was cleaned up that he turned his gaze toward Magnus. The man stared for a long time at the boy, who didn’t seem to mind. Magnus was more interested in staring into the small fire in the hearth.

  “Why?” T’laanga said, not turning to look at Edith. It seemed she knew who he was speaking to, however.

  “Because he needs a home,” Edith said while crossing her arms. “His folk gave him up to my care, gave him his last rites, and headed for the hills.” Those words got the first emotion I’d seen out of T’laanga since we’d met him. He clicked his tongue behind his teeth.

  “Where we’ll be going won’t be safe for a child. Not one that came a hair’s breadth from death.”

  “Which death?” T’laanga said, squinting at the apparently healthy human child.

  “The Wasting Plague, T’laanga. It’s a miracle that he’s alive.”

  T’laanga turned his eyes on Edith now. That gaze was cold and sharp like a knife. Edith didn’t back down from it.

  “Sanguine saved the boy,” Edith said quietly. “I owe him a life debt, which he did not demand from me.”

  Now it was my turn to get nailed by T’laanga’s gaze. There were hidden depths to this human. I’d felt a sense of danger from humans before. Being under his scrutiny made me feel like a hatchling again. It took great effort to resist the instinct to either fight or flee. I stared right back into T’laanga’s cold hazel eyes with my amber orbs.

  “But the most important reason I brought him to you Teacher, is that I think the boy may be a Sorcerer," Edith said almost in a whisper.

  I’d never seen a human move that fast before. T’laanga shot to his bare feet, his cloak billowing around him. The next moment he had reached out and grabbed Magnus by the boy’s face. Magnus gave a cry and struggled against T’laanga, grabbing onto the man’s wrist with both small hands.

  Edith reached out and grabbed onto the back of Cassia’s tunic to keep her from jumping on T’laanga. At the same time she held up her hand to me with an open palm, silently bidding me to stay back. I hissed, my wings battering against the outside of the building with my neck stuck through the door. Outside, my tail thrashed angrily against the ground. A familiar boiling rage sizzled in my throat.

  Magnus continued to struggle as T’laanga moved his head close, staring intensely into the boy’s eyes. The child turned his face into the older man’s hand and bit down. All at once, the sickeningly sweet aroma of vitality erupted in my nostrils. The drover’s blood which welled up beneath Magnus’s teeth, positively reeked with concentrated vitality.

  The scent hit me in the gut like I’d been kicked by Bronston. I stumbled on all fours back out of the doorway. Saliva flooded my mouth, nearly choking me. Both of my front feet clawed at my snout as I wretched.

  My Cassia was in the doorway, looking at me in distress. I couldn’t look at her right now. It was dangerous. I was dangerous to her. My gut was screaming at me to feed. She was calling my name and coming closer as I reared back.

  I tried to flap my wings and take off to get away from her. The position was bad and I was painfully uncoordinated. All I succeeded in doing was kicking up a gust of muddy soil and half melted snow with my wing beats.

  She rushed forward under my beating wings. Before I could stop her, she’d jumped up and wrapped her arms around my neck. I could still hear her calling my name, but it was like a red fog had rushed in to drown my senses.

  The scent was simply too overpowering. My entire being screamed out to consume every last bit of it. The world shrank down to binary choice. Fight and consume, or flee.

  I chose to flee.

  My wings caught the wind. Each beat drew me up further into the air. All sense of self and identity drowned in the red tide. Only distantly could I feel something clinging to me. It shouted at me, fighting to be heard over the rush of air.

  The ground fell away beneath me. Above was the infinite sky which promised freedom. If I could soar high enough, I would be free. Free from worry and doubt. Free from the harsh complexities of living. Free from the gnawing hunger which haunted me.

  I felt the rushing wind screaming past my scales. Hints of Summershore flowed under the last gasps of Wintertide. Moonlight caressed my scales like a gentle kiss.

  My Cassia still clung to my neck.

  My Cassia gasped for air as her fingers began to slip.

  My entire body twisted in the air to catch her.

  This body forged for hunting was Mine. The wings which had carried me into the stars were Mine. The blood that heaved with magic within my veins was Mine. Even the howling gnaw of hunger within my gut was Mine.

  Cassia-Róisín O’Coille was Mine. Not even my own body would take her from me.

  My claws caught her by her shoulders just as she started to fall. A scream ripped out of her throat. It was pure animalistic fear. Humans were not made for the sky. This was My domain and I had dragged her unwillingly into it.

  The wind settled under my wings as I corrected us into a slow circling glide. My Cassia heaved with breath as she dangled beneath me. Panic was a hard thing to quell, even for an experienced hunter like my Cassia. It took her some time, during which I kept us aloft with an occasional flap of my wings.

  “Sanguine, what the hells!?” she yelled up at me. I deserved to be screamed at. Whatever lecture she chose to give me after this, I’d sit and bear it. It wasn’t possible for me to repay her for the danger I’d just put her in.

  The gemstone hanging around her neck glowed softly in the moonlight. I didn’t feel that I deserved to call it Mine at the moment. It was of me, but it belonged to her. The little hatchling who had given it to her was slowly but surely becoming something else.

  My Cassia glanced down to the height she was hanging from before she looked back up at me.

  “Let me up on your back at least, please?” she asked. I could hear the fear in her voice. I utterly despised the way that Edith had ridden Bronston the horse. It was utterly demeaning. If any other living person had asked to ride me in that manner, I would have dropped them to the ground.

  My Cassia deserved better.

  It took some careful negotiation. My grip on Cassia was strong, but it required her to haul herself up over my front shoulder to make things work. There was never a moment where I fully let go of her. I’d not make the same mistake twice.

  When she settled onto my back at last, she settled into a divot just behind the joint of my wings. It was less uncomfortable than I expected. Her legs immediately clamped onto my sides. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around my neck from behind. I could feel her pressing into me from above.

  “Sanguine please,” I heard her say to me. “I don’t understand what’s happening to you. Ever since we left the Forest, you’ve changed so much. You’ve been acting so strangely. Why did you go crazy just now? This isn’t like you at all.”

  The problem was that it was exactly like me. I had sworn not to hide from my true nature the night I rescued my Cassia from the Vile tree. As more of that nature came to light, the less I stayed like the hatchling Cassia had helped raise.

  It wasn’t too difficult to turn my head over my shoulder with my long neck. Gliding in a circle didn’t require me to monitor where I was going much.

  “Is… dragon thing,” I tried to explain to her. “I’m hungry. Hungry all the time. Birds. Rabbits. Deer. Is not enough.” Cassia looked me in the eyes. I could see the pain and confusion that had been lingering inside her since she’d woken up in Edith’s house. She’d been trying to move past it, but I was beginning to suspect it would never entirely go away.

  “Need. Hungry for…” What was it? I couldn’t pronounce vitality. The word just didn’t fit in my maw. I didn’t think she’d understand what I meant even if I could. “Magic. Magic in beasts. People. Need magic badly. Smelled T’l- T’laaa-... Goat man. Goat man has… big magic. All things go red. Scared. Scared of… hurting. Hurt Edith. Magnus. Goat man. Hurt you. So I fly.”

  This explanation was the most human words I’d ever said in one sitting. The effort mentally taxed me and made my jaw sore. My Cassia listened patiently, trying to understand what I was going through. Every once in a while she shifted her position against me, or she shivered when the chill wind gusted across her.

  “So you smelled magic, a lot of it, and ran away before you went crazy and hurt someone?” My Cassia said back to me. That summed things up somewhat accurately. Damn human words. Why was it she could say so much more with less?

  My Cassia sighed deeply.

  “Good gods Sanguine,” she said softly. “You’re making a nasty habit of scaring the shite out of me lately.” She turned her gaze to look out across the land below us. “I thought that was it for a moment, but you caught me…” She was silent for a long time.

  “Hey Sanguine, I’m… Yours, right? Kind of like a princess you captured. You’re never going to let me go… right?” Her words were almost a whisper.

  “... Yes. Cassia is Mine. Forever,” I said back. She nestled her face into the back of my neck.

  “I know the others will be worried about me. Us,” she said quietly. “Can I stay like this for a while? I want to be a princess out of a story book. Just for a bit.”

  I didn’t respond. Instead I flapped my wings and continued to circle.