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This is an illustrated novella that I have written for Crytrauv: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/crytrauv/

Description: This 6 chapter novella is the tale of Crytrauv, an arctic fox in search of his mysteriously-vanished tribe whose journey takes him through a mythical forest. Where there is magic, there are dragons, and the one who first finds him charges an extravagant toll to safely escort him through it.

But Crytrauv has his own sly plans, one which includes charming one of the dangerous, majestic, elusive beasts.

Rynthara the furred dragoness (c) is my character

Crytrauv the arctic fox (c) belongs to Crytrauv https://www.furaffinity.net/user/crytrauv/

Cover art done by https://www.furaffinity.net/gallery/godzi15/

***A trek through the Nightwood chapter 1***

The Nightwood.

A mystical forest wrought in extravagant mystery, exaggerated legends and painfully dull superstition. Crytrauv had traveled too far and wide to let the gossip of locals slip into his bones and bloom into fearful shivers as he made his way deeper into what he perceived to be just another obstacle to cross in search of his people.

Only this one harbored dragons! Sharp-witted felines that could reflect sun and starlight alike to blind their prey, and three-headed, wingless hydras that shambled awkwardly on their four legs.

Ridiculous...so much so, that Crytrauv abandoned his well-groomed idea of precaution by slipping the arrow he held at the ready back into his quiver. The only danger would come from wild, predictable beasts, and avoiding them with the help of his sharp senses was far easier than confronting them. Confident in his tried and tested judgment, he reached for the dagger resting at his hip in preparation for slicing errant vines while he took his first step into the dappled shadows cast by the unnaturally tall trees. His toes clenched in reflex from the cold, uninviting dampness of the soil, a stark contrast from the pleasant warmth of the grass upon his dark paw pads.

Not even a few steps into the verdant sanctuary, and the air already began to change from a dry curtain of dust mixed with wildflowers into a thick, humid miasma of a thousand different scents. The earthy odor of the soil twined with the sharp fragrance secreted by the tapered, serrated leaves embellishing the gnarled, lower boughs of the trees. Sweet-smelling sap oozed from tiny holes in their wrinkled, ashen bark, attracting bees thrice larger than they had the right to be, colored an awkward indigo mottled with silver.

Birds didn't sing here; they screeched as they passed overhead, their harsh tonalities joining into a jarring cacophony that clawed its way into Crytrauv's sensitive ears. He pinned them back across his skull, wincing involuntarily every time one of the more sonorous species called to an even noisier counterpart. At least the trees here lacked lower branches, allowing Crytrauv to practically dash forward down a slope, following a thin, meandering path speckled with paw prints of all manner of sizes. It didn't take a skilled tracker to differentiate the obvious discrepancy in size and diameter, nor the evident lack of anthro footprints. Crytrauv's paws fit straight into the gently curved footmarks left by a big cat's heel pads, almost double in size. The very toe marks almost encompassed the artic fox' paw, nudging the sense of danger deep into Crytrauv's skull.

It wasn't anywhere near him; in this short span, Crytrauv had already separated and tracked each wildlife scent to their respective owners, mostly birds, insect, along with the spicy musk of a buck, if his guess served right. Carnivores had their distinctive smell, one which was conspicuously missing given the freshness of the tracks, less than a day old. Why no territorial scent marks?

Anxiety began to bubble and simmer within Crytrauv, his claws sliding up and down the smooth, wooden handle of his dagger, tail kept dangerously low to the ground as he assessed his situation. The Whitecrest mountain barrier was two weeks' worth of travel across the Nightwood, without taking into account the geography of the land and possible erroneous routes. His supplies covered seven days, if put together with the gift from the bears that had escorted him to the edge of the Nightwood, and his only map was a rough, mental picture of what one of them had described to him.

Crytrauv squatted behind a thornbush dotted with indigo berries, his back facing the thick, wave-like trunk of a tree boasting a most impressive canopy. It wasn't a safe haven; not by a far shot, but he needed a moment of respite to think, plan, adapt, improvise.

I can fashion a spear out of a branch from this tree, dip it into the poisonous flesh of these berries and rely on the hopefully quick acting toxin for defense, but it is impossible to tell which of these creatures developed immunity to them.

Crytrauv analyzed the merits of this idea, and began working on the spear which he would undoubtedly use as a walking stick for most of the time. Up close encounters were one last resort he never wished to take into consideration, but it never hurt to have a proper fishing tool in addition to its other perks. Given the size of the prints he encountered, he most likely had to settle for the bounty of the rivers and streams to keep him fed.

As he began to hew at the surprisingly durable wood, Crytrauv analyzed the intensity of the scents, closing his eyes for better focus. They appeared like differently colored threads in his mind, their brightness matching their intensity, their color associated with their purpose: red for predators, yellow for prey, brown for landmarks, blue for water sources. The more he focused, the more coherent each of the threads grew, yet without the blue one in sight, the fox blinked them out of existence and expelled his pent-up sigh.

What was he doing here, so far from the civilized world, crossing through woods populated by predators his bow and arrows could do nothing against? He had risked his life in search of his tribe before, and every time he did that, the thrill of chasing that one promising rumor had pushed him forward through rain, sleet, snow, hunger, thirst and more than a few near-death experiences.

Right now, however, the familiar tingles within his stomach failed to rouse. His muscles felt flaccid and heavy rather than taut with purpose, his heartbeats were dull and unnoticeable, and his jaws clamped uncharacteristically tight together, as if to suppress his growl--or whimper, whichever dared come out first. No matter how hard he tried, Crytrauv couldn't banish the huge paw print from his mind, nor stop what he had heard from the bears from repeating over and over in his ears. They weren't just tales of magic. The young bear's mother actually possessed those eerie abilities, as did her son. Despite his innate stubbornness that kept him from even acknowledging, let alone begin to comprehend this otherworldly force, Crytrauv couldn't deny what he had seen, nor dismiss it as a trick. He had seen enough of those to know better, and the shivers coursing underneath his fur only served to dig the truth deeper into his skull.

That he would perish here. Not because of a mistake, lack of strength or acumen. But to an element that had most likely vanquished his tribe as well, one that his years into adulthood had done nothing to prepare him against.

Crytrauv opened his eyes, blowing away the dust off the tip of his spear, his breaths calm and even in spite of the twinge of panic latching onto his bones and muscles. So long as magic and oversized creatures existed in the Nightwood, the thrill of the chase wouldn't spark to life, for Crytrauv knew not how to overcome these threats other than avoid them to the best of his abilities.

Without the thrill's familiarity to empower him, Crytrauv contemplated turning back for the first time in his life, each swing of his blade along the sharpened tip of the spear carrying a different reason with it.

"I won't turn back," he whispered under his breath to silence those pesky, nefarious doubts. "If I turn back now, I'll turn back the next time as well. Time and time after that, I'll run, until my existence becomes as meaningless as I always believed it to be."

His spear finished, the arctic fox propped its butt against the ground to push himself up, inhaling a deep breath filled with familiar and foreign scents alike. In the absence of the thrill of the chase, Crytrauv relied on the scattered motes of apprehension twirling through his gut to guide him forth, employing his barely rational fear to sharpen his already keen senses to deadly accuracy. The overwhelming amounts of stimuli sapped his concentration alarmingly fast, but he analyzed each and every single one of them nevertheless, sifting the familiar ones from the new, strange, potentially alarming clues.

To keep his focus sharp, Crytrauv ran the colors, features, purpose of the vegetation through his mind, sorting them all by purpose or lack of it. He didn't bother questioning what he saw, regardless of how odd and out of place it seemed.

The deeper he ventured into the Nightwood, the more evident its namesake became. Though the sun still had two hours left before its descent, the dapples grew thinner, weaker, more inconsistent, blotted by the ever taller and bigger trees. Their violet hued canopies maintained a purple hued penumbra, its shades varying according to the transparency and nuance of the leaves. The undergrowth itself took advantage of the sparse light, most of the ground vegetation cluttering around mushrooms pulsating with a white, ghostly glow.

The temptation to stop and study the peculiarities of the surrounding landscape nudged Crytrauv every now and then, conquered only by his determination to find his first brook or river, refill his water skin, then find a suitable spot to rest. The uncanny flatness of the land made his search all the more arduous together with the dry, overly brittle leaves blanketing the ground. Their constant rustle kept the arctic fox on edge, and no matter how hard he tried to evade them, his paws always seemed to land on one of the concealed leaves every now and then.

As the sky began to darken, the edges and ripple-like markings of the leaves began to brighten to a silvery sheen, weaker than moonlight but eerily similar in its nature. Crytrauv plucked a leaf to try and fashion himself a makeshift torch, but it extinguished as soon as he tore it from its branch.

The same fate befell every other plant that glowed, spurring several theories into the fox's mind that he stashed for better, less unnerving circumstances. Darkening patches sprouted every now and then, but with this species of trees so prevalent in this area, shadow seemed a luxury Crytrauv sorely lacked. After all, the better he saw, the easier a target he would be for the predators adapted to these very conditions.

As if conjured by that one errant thought, the distinctive scent of a predator greeted Crytrauv's twitching nostrils, mellow but unmistakably female. The arctic fox paused, hand arched to his back to clutch the frame of his bow, head swerving back and forth, left and right, trying to pinpoint the exact location of its source.

A second trail flowed in the wind, and a third, all too similar to the first but slightly stronger.

Males. Closer.

Crytrauv nocked an arrow, keeping his bow low, shuffling towards the nearest tree to avoid stepping on one of the dead, crumpled leaves. With his back secured, the arctic fox closed his eyes in focus, taking a deep, slow, elaborate breath to analyze every important aspect of these scents.

They were all carnivores, given the foul tang of their coat or paws, still flecked with blood. However, sharper, sweeter scents overpowered the previous, hinting at their omnivore status. By tracking the direction of the wind, it became obvious all three of them were ground predators, so the reasonable conclusion to draw was that they were all bears, or at least a species that thrived on a diverse diet.

"Mrrrrrrrrrahhhhhhhhh!"

The nearby roar stunned Crytrauv. His stiff, unresponsive fingers stuck to his bow's frame, unable to decide between shooting the arrow at the beast in front of him or avoid aggravating it. The shock of having a bear a torso and a head taller ambush him out of nowhere froze him in place, every logical thought, every reasonable course of action gone from his mind.

In the heat of the moment, seconds from his impending demise, all Crytrauv could think about was how this absolutely massive creature snuck up on him without betraying the slightest clue to its presence. She obviously understood the usage of the wind's direction to her advantage, and her great paws lumbered along the ground in a similar shuffle with that of Crytrauv.

So that young bear was right. The creatures in this forest are indeed quite different from the ones I am accustomed to, he thought, still unwilling to accept their bizarre, enhanced intellect.

The she-bear inched ever closer to him, her eyes shimmering like polished citrine orbs, her pupils two wide, brown, menacing holes. Light grey spots dotted her ashen hide, increasing in size across her spine and haunches and shrinking to tiny dots down her thick, strong limbs. Her moderately thick fur rippled with every step she took, the strands conspicuously clean, with not a single speckle of dirt on her coat or muzzle.

"The other three are your cubs, aren't they?" Crytrauv spoke, preferring to familiarize the creature with his voice and intentions in spite of his refusal to acknowledge mere superstition. "Good strategy, to separate yourself from them; to be the observer nobody expects while being intimately aware of their position."

Once she was within reach of his bow, the female bear gripped its frame in her mouth, hurling it away from Crytrauv. In the same instant, Crytrauv relinquished the arrow, frame tense, tail between his legs to emphasize his lack of aggression.

"Rrrrrhh," the she-bear growled, softer this time, as if pleased with his quick thinking. Just when he expected this whole ordeal to end, her muzzle darted for the handle of his dagger to toss it aside, then fumbled through his rags--and even under his loin coverings--in search of other weapons. His privates touched by her clammy nose, Crytrauv couldn't help but shudder, claws hooking into the ground to restrain any foolish intention to flee.

"There is nothing else that can harm you or your cubs," he tried to explain to the bear who now nibbled at the straps that fastened his knapsack to his back. "I can't even reach in there from my position."

Though not fully satisfied with his answer, her attention switched to his quiver, demanding that he relinquished it with a series of short, impatient growls. Even when fully disarmed, she still jerked him forward with a forceful pull of his tribal loincloth, sneaking her nose right under his tail, much to Crytrauv's audible surprise. His thin, panicked yelp shook him more than it did the bear, who began backing away while her gaze still bore down upon him.

"Mrrrorrr," she uttered one final time, forsaking the secrecy of her presence, caring not for the jarring rustle left in her wake.

Crytrauv kept his ears perked and his breaths shallow, listening intently to the sound of her footsteps to ensure that she wouldn't circle back around and surprise him again. The rush of blood surging through his veins, coupled with the unnerving weakness of his limbs, gave him pause for a moment. It wasn't panic or fear that gripped him, but bewilderment, aimed not at the bear's acumen, but towards his own lacks. He allowed himself to be distracted by the obvious, thus leaving himself wide open to creatures who evidently knew a thing or two about stalking their prey.

Damnable bears. Should have kept your muzzles shut with that nonsense and leave me to figure out a solution myself, Crytrauv lashed out at his earlier entourage within the confines of his mind, at wits end with their mind games and impossible powers that he now ran the serious risk of encountering.

"Most intriguing," a serene, melodious voice floated in the wind.

In the span of two heartbeats, Crytrauv lunged for his bow and his discarded arrow, then drew the string of his bow far back and took aim at boughs overfilled with leaves.

No. That couldn't be. He was certain whoever spoke perched up a--

"Most unwise," the same voice taunted him from behind.

Crytrauv whirled on his feet, breath held in his chest, ears straining to pinpoint the direction of the speaker. The rustle of feathers beating against the wind betrayed its position, as well as its identity.

A dragon.

Crytrauv's heart shrunk to the size of a pebble. Never had he faced an opponent he couldn't see in an environment most inhospitable to him. Try as he might, his gaze couldn't pierce past the umbral canopies, yet the dragon saw him clear as day, for she hovered out of sight, but not out of reach of his nose, betraying her soft, barely perceptible female fragrance.

"And also disappointingly dull," she added as she made another pass over his head. "In every sense of the word, that is."

Crytrauv barely comprehended her meaning, too caught up in analyzing her discrete scent. She smelled far more different than he imagined, carrying the herbal tang of prey and the rougher hues specific to predators, spiced with a wilder, more exotic touch that could only be a pheromone-laden secretion, though not of sexual origins. If anything, that particular nuance hinted at panic stemming from the incursion of an anthro into her lands, and anxiety at determining the best course of action on how to handle him. For all his obstinacy on studying magical creatures, Crytrauv knew that highly intelligent dragons had their own societal rules, hierarchy and integrity that prohibited them from diving upon a harmless, unsuspecting visitor.

Or so Crytrauv wished to believe in this moment.

"Hold onto your weapons if they bring you comfort. I won't fault you for it, but if Asha returns and finds you aiming that bow at me, then her mauling you simply makes my decision concerning you far easier."

The arctic fox licked his muzzle to dispel the film of dread gluing his lips, and spoke with the calmest tone he could muster, "I mean no harm to you or anyone. Am simply crossing through. On my way to my tribe. To where I believe they are," he corrected himself, afraid of giving the wrong notion to this dragon.

"A lost wandered, are you?" The dragoness seemed pleased with his answer, for she audibly mellowed down. "Follow the direction of my voice. It will lead you right where you need to be," her faint but distinctly feminine voice instructed, turning Crytrauv towards a distant slope that led into some sort of hollow, where the canopies of the trees thinned enough to allow a dragon to land.

He didn't blindly follow her request, of course. First, he scouted his immediate area, but other than the smells he had already grown familiar with, nothing out of the ordinary stood out. That immediate threat extinguished, he strapped every weapon visibly out of reach and held his hands up to his chest, so that she could clearly see that he had no intention of seizing one.

But the dragoness replied no more. His ears captured the hooting of owls and the songs of various insects, the ambient sounds devoid of wing beats. Her scent trail vanished as well, leaving him with but the earlier clues to find her.

Clever creature. She made sure to arrange this meeting on her own terms, seizing upon Crytrauv's necessity to traverse the forest to pull him into her plan. This very thought gave pause to the arctic fox, but it soon faded away, snuffed out by the repercussions that might befall him, should he not express his intentions clearly to the dragon.

He took upon the only sensible path open to him, that of doing her bidding, instinct chiding him at every step he took. His arrows might not fell a dragon, but Crytrauv intended to respond with pain to those who sought to inflict the same upon him. He would die, of course, but not without leaving his mark on the dragon, one they would never forget.

Fortunately, he had no need to resort to such dirty tactics, for the intertwining growls that soon began to traverse the wind were laced with the particular joviality specific to a game. The arctic fox found the dragon tackled in fierce contest with a great cat, her growls bearing the same pitch from before. Down in this hollow, surrounded by hills on every side, moonlight reflected upon the silver markings of both dragon and feline alike, igniting them to a molten, eerie hue.

Crytrauv paused for a bit, holding his breath to avoid betraying his presence. It might not have been wise to sneak upon two dangerous predators significantly larger than him, but with more than a hundred feet standing between them, he could as well blame his present company for their distraction. Better to study them now and put his plans into motion than waste the opportunity.

Fur covered the entirety of the dragon's body, bearing a shade somewhere between indigo and purple, its color made obvious by the feline's lilac coat speckled with white rosettes on her flanks and spots across her spine. An array of multicolored feathers embellished her wings and tail tip, fanned to its full glory while she attempted to wrestle her companion into submission.

The lack of scales on the dragon tilted the situation into Crytrauv's favor, if only with scant degrees. His arrows might slow her advance, perhaps slay her over time if she dared attack, but they would not stop her in time to spare his life. Even from afar, Crytrauv was certain the dragon surpassed even the largest horse breed in size, while her big cat playmate stood shorter, akin to a donkey. Both of them had monstrous paws, a single swipe capable of disemboweling Crytrauv in one fell swoop.

None of them unsheathed claws for their contest, however, resorting to what appeared to be a slap fight rather than a duel.

"Fascinating," the sudden word jolted Crytrauv to awareness, his eyes meeting those of the dragon for the first time.

"You made it all the way here without getting mauled or ripped--" the dragoness' words sank into a fierce growl as the great cat's fangs found purchase upon her neck. Her wings tried to buffet the assailant to no avail, and she positioned herself in such way that the dragoness' hind paws couldn't shove the feline off her.

As soon as her growl turned into a muffled whine, tongue lashes replaced the feline's fangs, along with a joyous purr from the big cat whose forepaws gently trailed across her face. The dragoness returned the affection in kind, completely disregarding Crytrauv, the two females preoccupied only with their mutual grooming.

Eventually, the dragoness gently coaxed the feline off her with a dab of her paw across her flank, which her companion heeded by flopping onto her side to paw at the joint of her wing.

"This is Nilra," the dragoness said, touching noses with her. "Asha, the bear you met earlier, would have taken care of the mauling, while Nilra here prefers ripping. Were it not for the dreadful rattling of that wagon that brought you here, one of my companions would have feasted on fox today, and they are considerate enough to share at least a haunch with me as well. I might have refused it, however, given how frail you are," she said, the two females visibly sizing him up.

Crytrauv swallowed back his momentary panic, his fingers itching to reach for his bow, held back by his willpower alone. "I prefer to think that I make better company than I do a meal." He tried to ease their tension by sketching a smile, but it came out wry, his lips too stubborn to obey.

Nilra snarled, unimpressed by his humor, but the dragoness rolled onto her belly, acquiring a more dignified position, as befit of an impressive creature such as her. She first nuzzled Nilra's neck to put her at ease, then shifted her ebony pupils to him, the slits widening subtly in curiosity.

"I already have good company," she said, emphasizing her point by rubbing cheeks with Nilra. "What use could I possibly have for a wayward traveler who doesn't have an ounce of respect for the creatures calling the Nightwood its home? Those who brought you here must have certainly shared the specifics of this place, yet you still trust your weapons more than their words."

"It's a matter of habit, not of offensive conduct, I assure you," he said, kneeling in front of her and placing everything that she might consider a weapon to the sides of his body, so that they lied in plain view. "Some, I need for hunting. Others, for skinning and other necessities. A few, to defend myself. The civilized world is not without dangers, and I dare say that you're more reasonable than many of the thugs I came across."

"Rrrrrh," the dragoness growled in unison with Nilra, both females baring their fangs at him. "Words are wind, fox; they change on a whim, and seldom in the favor of others. Be plain and tell us what you seek, so that we don't have to suffer each other for longer than necessary."

He didn't speak right away, preferring to first wet his parched throat, dried by nerves, and buy himself a few seconds to think in the process. Revealing the possible location of his tribe might be foolish in case his people might have visited the Nightwood themselves and confused the animals here for regular ones. However, she certainly expected more than a stutter, for that was always clear indication of falsehood.

"I am looking for my ancestral people, said to live in the valleys of the Whitecrest Mountains. They are nomads who wouldn't dare lay eyes on the Nightwood, let alone venture inside it, due to their innate fear of what they cannot control nor hope to comprehend, such as magic. I was..." he paused for a moment, making sure to lower his voice adequately to attune a more sorrowful tone. "I was separated from them during my Proving, a rite that we share with our wolf neighbors where males and females alike undertake certain tasks in the wilderness by themselves, with no one to aid us. I was successful. I returned. But they were there no longer."

"Nomads are wanderers, aren't they? Hardly their fault you couldn't pick their tracks. My mother did the same to me, yet I still found my way back to her," the dragoness said with utter nonchalance, engaging in a biting game with Nilra, as if completely uninterested in his plight.

"There were no tracks to pick. No traces to examine. There was nothing left but snow and ice, dragon." Frustration and anger laced that final word, a subtlety that she immediately picked as her sharp gaze swiveled back to him. Nilra used her momentary distraction to wrap her jaws around her neck, but the dragoness gently pushed her away, holding her at bay with a wing.

Recognizing that the critical moment has passed, Crytrauv pushed himself up, hands crossed over his groin where she could see them. "Your mother meant for you to find her, just like my people wouldn't switch camp while their young are out there, risking their life so that their elders could gauge their maturity and development. So, I took the proof that I've completed my Proving to our wolf neighbors, and that earned me a place in their tribe, but not among them. We used each other, and when we outgrew this mutually beneficial relationship, I left them to search for my people, starting with the developed kingdoms that might have conquered and enslaved them."

That bit of truth roused the dragon's interest, her ears shifting in his direction to swallow every word. "I have forsaken much while searching for them; too much to bore you with, but what hasn't changed is my loyalty to them, and my dream to be reunited with my family once more."

He licked his muzzle apprehensively after finishing his train of thought, uncertain whether he shared too much--or too little--of himself with her. Her inquisitive eyes pulled on his tongue, tempting it to unravel and spill forth the shame and sacrifices he has endured for the sake of his quest, but Crytrauv fought back that impulse. Wrong as it might have been, he preferred to find his end here or be forced back than to bare his soul to a stranger prompt to make light of his situation.

"And if you don't find them?" she inquired, crossing a forepaw over the other so that she could rest her head against them. "You may find yourself bereft of your meager possessions as well as your rather bleak and rather purposeless existence. Hope leads many of your kind astray, doesn't it?"

Crytrauv took a deep breath to steel himself for the foolishness he was about to say, then let it out slowly, deliberately, surrendering himself to whatever fate awaited him. "Dragons are not exempt from hope's clutches. You may consider yourselves elevated, soaring above the rest of us, but your needs are not completely different from ours, nor your weaknesses. Hope, ambition, lust--they can poison you with the same effectiveness they have poisoned me."

His heart skipped a beat after uttering that final word, expecting swift, merciless retribution for tarnishing not only her image, but that of her entire kind.

"You turned awfully tense," the dragoness observed, ignoring Nilra. The great cat hissed and spat multiple warnings at him from her half-crouched position, awaiting the dragon's signal to strike. "Might it be related to the other falsehoods you foolishly tilt your ear towards?"

"Might be," Crytrauv acknowledged his fallacy, straightening his back, clenching and relaxing his fists several times to get the rush out of his system. "Those who have power over others often use it to make an example of them."

As if on cue, the dragoness perked her head, untangled her forelegs, and shifted onto her fours as soon as Crytrauv's words came to a stop. Nilra's back arched further, the muscles of her hind legs rippling with unspent, eager power to propel her towards her prey. Her companion, however, blocked her with a stretched wing, forbidding her from attacking him. Then, she strolled towards him, one slow, elegant footstep at a time.

Crytrauv froze on the spot. His mind begged him to leave his weapons and run for the trees; to zigzag his way through the thicket closest to him and use his smaller, more agile form to navigate through the underbrush. She wouldn't be able to take to the skies, and her size would force her to give up the tiring, unrewarding chase.

That could've worked if his body obeyed him. Instead, he found himself backed against the nearest tree, the sudden stop causing him to yelp and almost stumble in surprise. Part of him simmered at how clumsy and idiotic he suddenly acted, yet that paled in comparison to the sheer overwhelm at being approached by a creature as majestic as this dragon. If it was his first brush with death, he would've undoubtedly soiled himself, but his lifestyle taught him to find perverse enjoyment in the abundant, overpowering fear coursing through him. So few things stirred his senses to such degree, and if it was, indeed, his time, at least he would go at the fangs and claws of the most beautiful creature he laid eyes upon.

"If you're about to kill me," Crytrauv said as he raised his arms in front of him protectively, "at least tell me your name."

The dragoness halted about two arm lengths away from him, her silvery gaze bearing down upon him. From up-close, the white patterns weaving across her brow and body acquired mesmerizing symmetry. He also noticed the white dot embellishing the middle of her ears, as well as their pink insides. What truly fascinated him, however, was her subtle, almost herbal scent. She didn't carry the dull, heavy stench that Crytrauv expected to find in animals, but a soft, pleasant, feminine odor that he couldn't help but breathe in.

"This is not how my world functions, so you should consider yourself privileged that you find yourself here, secluded from such irrational misconceptions."

Crytrauv's breath stuck in his throat when her forepaw extended towards him. When he did not reach for it, she raised it to his eye level, where he could clearly see the thin slits hiding her claws, as well as the white line of fur surrounding her dark violet paw pads.

"Grab it. Feel it. Stroke it. Do whatever you must do to ensure that I am a living creature and not a conjuration of one of the dreadful tales you are accustomed to."

For a reason that befuddled him, Crytrauv's hands rushed to obey her request out of their own accord. He used his left to sneak under her pads and support her paw, and his right to softly caress the silky, violet fur covering its back. Unlike his rough hands, her pads had a surprising softness to them, oozing a pleasant warmth that melted the icicles within his palm. His thumb also tested the texture of the white fur, finding it slightly thicker and smoother than the purple variant.

Her toes clenched slightly, a shudder traversing her paw as he did that, but the dragoness didn't retreat just yet, allowing him a few more moments in her resplendent presence.

"I can be as soft as my paw pads or as sharp as my claws. Which side you get to witness depends on how you behave. One thing that I am not, however, is a savage beast that tears into the first biped who has the courage to speak their mind.

Just as he reached for the fifth, smaller toe that acted as her dewclaw, the dragoness fled his grasp, setting her foot back down. "Now that you understand me better, I expect you to treat me with the respect I am due, without unnecessary and mindless exaggerations. You are aware that, just like you, I have my needs and weaknesses, and if you can convince me that I need you, then things might play in your favor. But first, present your bow to me, so that I may examine its craft."

Her interest in the bow banished away most of Crytrauv's worries and rigidity, for it hinted at her interest in the tools of the civilized world. With little else to offer her but the gemstones he kept for an actual deal, the arctic fox stepped to the side, away from the menace of her paws and jaws. Once out of her reach, his steps became quicker, more certain.

"Here it is," he said, presenting the bow to her. "Exquisite craftmanship, isn't it? Made of Ebonwood, found on the archipelago of Alklavran. Not only is the material rare, but there are few who can work it properly. I presume you don't want to hear how I came by it."

"No," she said plainly, inching her snout closer to it. "All I wish is to examine it."

The dragoness set her stark, silvery gaze on it, and in the next instant, Crytrauv's bow gnarled, twisted and bent upon itself, losing mass and size until it became a dried, useless twig. The shaft of the arrow he nocked to better explain the bow's functions to the dragoness suffered the same fate, the arrowhead dislodging from it to fall upon his toes.

"There. It's been examined."

Her smug expression and haughty tone quickly faded into the background for Crytrauv, whose sole focus dwelled on the adrenaline surging through him. He took a step back, and another, and another, eyelids flashing across his blank eyes, but never fully covering them for more than a second. He knew what happened; saw it right before his eyes. But the subtle sounds, the barely discernible scent of dried wood...they didn't match what he expected of magic. It was almost too dull a process to fear it, and yet, he found himself paralyzed by it.

In that timeless moment, all of Crytrauv's thoughts and senses shut but for the throbbing of his temples and the pounding of his heart. His chest tightened, preventing breaths. Moisture fled his throat, leaving a parched desert behind. His very balance wavered as he attempted to further retreat from the dragoness, limbs uncoordinated in their attempts to keep him afoot.

Crytrauv ungainly lurched to the nearest tree, unwilling to take his eyes off her. He crumpled by its roots, staring absently at his trembling palms that clutched a thin, withered husk instead of a bow. He ran a thumb across the brittle wood to make sure it was real, that whatever happened actually...happened. His claw hooked a soft knot, cutting through it as if through cheese, the core of this piece of wood rotten, turned to dust, lifeless.

Crytrauv hurled the damnable thing away with a swift, sudden, jerky motion, terrified that its taint would somehow transfer into his body.

"No dragon of the Nightwood is allowed to employ their magic on a living, breathing creature, so you can rest easy knowing that, should I consider you a threat, it would be my fangs and claws that you'll contend with."

Her words barely registered amidst the rattle of his teeth. Arms wrapped around his gut, knees tucked to his chest, Crytrauv sought to make himself small, insignificant, constantly shifting his gaze between the dragoness, her lounging feline companion, and the lifeless twig. His paranoia was unwarranted; that much, he knew. And yet, despite her reassurance, he somehow expected the dragoness to cast an equally malevolent spell on him, or for his former bow to transform into something even more outlandish.

He had never felt so powerless, so improper and out of place before. He could barely stifle his whimpers, let alone will his shudders into submission.

Get a hold of yourself. Weakness is the last thing you want to show to these two, he tried to rouse his courage, but to no avail. It might not have been the destructive spell he expected, but this subtle type of magic proved to be even more sinister, and he couldn't deny that.

It wasn't a trick. Magic destroyed his bow and arrow without physical contact exchanged between the two. She just glared and it, and the next moment, it faded into a husk of its former self. If that was so, then who knew what horrid things this dragon could do to him from afar, through mere glances?

It was now, that the foolishness, the impossibility of his quest, dawned upon him. His tribe was gone, most likely through means as esoteric as the one he just witnessed. He had failed them as a youngling, just as he failed them now, when his self-preservation instinct flared brighter than ever, urging him to flee back to civilization and leave this dreadful place behind.

Regardless of his abilities and knowledge, magic was not something he dared see again, let alone be expected to fight it. That placed him forever at the mercy of the dragon, who had but threaten him in order to get everything she wanted from him. Nothing terrified Crytrauv more than helplessness. The deep, innate knowledge that one wrong word, one improper glance her way, and she would...would...

"Mrrrr?"

Crytrauv yelped as he looked up from his feet and straight into the argent colored eyes of the great cat who towered over him, her head inches from his knees. The dragon also shifted position during his moment of distraction, pacing in the background, intrigued by the feline's interest in him.

"She wants to be on her way, but not before inspecting the curious creature that intruded into our territory," the dragoness explained.

Nilra lifted a tentative forepaw, as if looking at the dragoness for approval to handle her new plaything, waiting for her subtle growl to proceed. Once she gave it, the feline's nose darted straight to his feet, an oversized white claw the length of his hand attempting to lift it in order to gain access to his paw pads.

"Surrender your paws, fox. We simply wish to know where you come from, and we know better than take your word for it," the dragoness demanded, joining Nilra in sniffing at his pads for a split second. They both raised their heads in unison, pondering on their discovery, but Nilra lacked the dragoness' patience. She shoved her head against his chest, rolling her way under his arms, demanding to be stroked in a similar fashion with a domesticated cat.

The dragoness didn't take kindly to her blind trust in Crytrauv, her growl forcing the feline to distance herself from the dragon's quarry.

"Nilra now believes you to be a local, given that you penetrated the Nightwood through the southern entrance, but she doesn't know you as well as I do."

The dragoness eased herself onto her haunches, recounting every turn, every footstep that led Crytrauv here based on the scents coating his paw pads alone. She also accurately guessed his means of transportation to the Nightwood, as well as the kingdom through which he crossed on his way here.

The very enemies of the anthro population bordering the Nightwood.

Crytrauv withdrew his paws under him, at a loss for words.

"If Nilra and Asha possess this ability beside me, then it stands to reason other predators can track you just as easily. They won't be as logical as I am, nor as patient, and they definitely have no use for the gemstones that you have brought with you. So, just like you and your wolf neighbors, I believe we can mutually aid each other."

Crytrauv nodded, not even bothering to ask how she found out about those. The bears have readied him for this, so he reached for the pouch tied to his waist, only to have it impaled by a silver claw and torn from his grasp. Objection hovered on the tip of his tongue, but instead, the arctic fox whined submissively and lowered his head, extending a cordial hand to the dragoness.

"Help yourself. I trust you to be fair in this bargain. Not like I know the individual value these stones carry for a dragon."

She upended the pouch, ebony, slitted pupils widening at the sparkling bits of color shining through the grass when caressed by moonlight.

"Decent collection," so the greedy magpie sang while enthralled with every single piece in his collection. She lowered herself onto her belly for a closer, more intimate look at them, cradling the Azurium geode between two claws, caressing it with the indigo pad of a toe. "Do you wish to trade all of them?"

The arctic fox nodded. "Where I'm going, I have no need of them."

"Very well. They can buy you a day and a night, present evening excluded. I will guide you, guard you, hunt for you, and share my den with you when the weather doesn't permit you to rest outside. More so, you shall not approach me unless I grant you permission to do so, yes? It's part of how this relationship works."

Crytrauv didn't quite believe the last part, but he didn't have the necessary strength to argue that point, so he dipped his head in acceptance. Pleased with how smooth this negotiation went, the female placed her forepaw on top of his right knee, her pads surprisingly warm and pleasant. "Grab my paw, as you bipeds tend to do, so that we have more than just words to seal our pact."

Crytrauv nodded half-heartedly, reaching for her oversized toes, each one big enough to almost fit into his palm. She lifted her paw so that Crytrauv could grab it more easily, and trembled lightly when the arctic fox's petite hands clutched it, his dark grey pads rough compared to her soft, smooth ones. One of his fingers slid over the fur between her toe pads, causing the dragoness to suddenly jerk her paw back, a strange, excited trill bursting out of her.

"Rrrah, that tickled," she said, shaking her paw to dispel the bothersome sensation before settling it back down.

"I'm sorry," Crytrauv apologized, barely able to stifle a chuckle. "It won't happen again."

"Of course. This is the final time you touch me, after all," she said before getting onto her feet. "Gather up my gems and follow me. You've rested enough, and depending on your endurance, we should cover about a tenth of the Nightwood before our deal comes to a close."

A tenth? He would have been horrified by that dreadful truth, was he not already rattled down to his very bones. Numb, with his fight completely gone, Crytrauv collected himself off the ground, bowing his head respectfully to the feline as they passed by her. The dragoness' jaws tightened to suppress a snarl when Nilra reciprocated the gesture, but she didn't chide her, nor him, for this awkward exchange.

"She has been too fortunate in the encounter with previous biped visitors to know better," the dragoness said when they a safe distance away from Nilra's earshot. "Do not take advantage of her blind trust. My silent companions may be intelligent, but they are also impressionable, as is every creature that has never left the boundaries of the Nightwood."

"You included?" Crytrauv asked as he stepped next to her to gauge her reaction. Given the rapid development of his situation, he grew numb--and almost indifferent--to his fate. If something was to go wrong, it might as well happen at the start.

Surprisingly, she blinked once in confirmation, but didn't slow down nor look at him. "Unlike you bipeds, us dragons understand and accept our limitations instead of hiding them. Denying their presence doesn't whisk them out of existence."

"I wish I had your wisdom," Crytrauv mused out loud, only to visibly flinch when her eye swerved in his direction, awaiting his explanation.

"I am, for lack of a better word, your slave." When she didn't release as much as a snort, he pressed on. "You now own everything that I have of value. I know nothing of the Nightwood, its inhabitants, or the proper route to the Snowdrift Valley, which is the first target of my search. This makes me little more than a speckle of dust beneath your paw pads, and it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if you simply fly away and leave me to my own. From your position of power, that is something many of my kind would do."

The dragoness blocked his way with her sinuous body, her eyes surprisingly warm and understanding. "Have I not told you to abandon these foolish preconceptions? The people bordering the Nightwood are different, as is the Nightwood itself. I may not know of the world spanning beyond, but us dragons live too long, as do our grudges, and that means we should avoid antagonizing each other at all costs."

Antagonize them how? Surely the others wouldn't...

Oh. So, just like Nilra, other dragons perceived his kind differently, and news of his mistreatment or demise might upset them greatly, given that the people of these parts lacked many of the gems he brought from more exotic places. Whatever they needed the shiny stones for involved more than just the adornment of their nest.

"I see," he said, lowering his head in approval to avoid heightening her suspicions. "I shall do my best not to give you any reason to do something you might regret."

The dragoness turned back to the path she chose for them, resuming her gait. "You will, but I won't regret it, for I don't even know your name."

He was tempted to share it with her, but thought better of it, his thoughts lingering on his discovery. Now that his gems actually carried purpose, he instinctively reached for the pouch every now and then, as if to make sure his only life thread wouldn't suddenly be claimed by magic.

I could have negotiated a better deal. I should have flaunted my knowledge of the gems to gain her respect, and should have inquired about the terms of our agreement and make sure they hold no veiled surprise.

Crytrauv practically tortured himself with thoughts of what could have--or actually, should have been-- as he followed the nameless dragoness wherever her whims carried them. Now that the initial panic that gripped him began to subside, his mistakes became all too apparent, the impassive attitude he had adopted a solution not to his predicament, but mere nourishment to his yet untamed fears.

Then again, fate worked in mysterious ways. Other than this very one-sided bargain, the dragoness posed no threat, harbored no ill will at his address; in fact, she considered him a humble follower, the spring in her steps hinting at her satisfaction with this outcome.

I may yet turn this around. After all, a lot can happen in the span of two nights and a day.

Crytrauv became so lost in his own thoughts that he needed her tail feathers to greet him across the face to rouse him.

"Your lair," he muttered, swallowing what little spittle wet his mouth in distress when the dragoness turned to face him.

"A den. One of many, and also one of the few you are allowed to enter just this once to discard your belongings. The weather permits you to sleep outside, and since it is our first night together, I prefer that we start without any misunderstandings between us."

That made two of them, at least. For all her insistence on having him forget everything about himself and his world, she certainly heard a little of the meaning behind two bipeds sharing their sleeping place.

"Am I not to carry what is mine with me?" he asked in order to put away the tempting thought of challenging her views on their first day.

Her head inched closer to his muzzle, her breath hot upon his face. "It won't be necessary. While in my territory and under my protection, you eat what I deem fit, never stray from my gaze, and always follow my commands--or requests, if the term weighs on your ego."

Fortunately for him, anxiety still dwelled within bones and muscles alike, so he deferred to her better knowledge without the slightest intent to bare fangs.

"Rynthara is the name you shall call me by. And yours?"

"Crytrauv," the arctic fox replied.

"Sitrauv," she butchered his name, all while being completely satisfied with her success at managing to pronounce it. "Now is the moment where you leave everything but your rags inside my den and thank me for sparing you the trouble of carrying that bent twig of a bow around."

"Gratitude," Crytrauv said with half a mouth, turning his back to her on his way into her den to conceal his snarl. It was a heavy thing to ask of him, but for the sake of maintaining the peace, he did as requested.

"I'm doing you a favor," Rynthara said from behind. "Your belongings not only slow you down, but they might irritate certain animals beyond my ability to soothe them. You wouldn't be the first foreigner who took advantage of a dragon, nor the last."

How would one take advantage of a dragon, exactly? The sheer idiocy of that statement put a smile on Crytrauv's face, one that he guarded from Rynthara while he deposited everything he owned in a corner of her den.

"Now go outside, and grab one of my furs if you wish to."

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Crytrauv said to her when he exited the small cave. "My kind can weather blizzards thanks to their coat, so I think I can survive a night under a canopy in mild weather."

*

The predawn chill roused Crytrauv to his senses, its sting all the more notable for the one forced to sleep outside Rynthara's den. He sluggishly pushed himself onto his limbs, wrapping his arms around his torso, inspecting his surroundings. But for the aquamarine shimmer of the edges of the leaves, Crytrauv saw no other source of light to indicate the time of day. It must have been an hour or two before sunrise, for his stomach still churned with yesterday's hunger.

He couldn't leave, per the rules of their pact, nor hunt without Rynthara's approval. Her den was off limits, his tools and remaining weapons had been temporarily appropriated by her, and his knapsack became a short-lived part of her hoard, dumped with the rest of her useless belongings. Until Rynthara awoke, Crytrauv could do naught but twiddle his thumbs and count the leaves dangling from overflowing boughs.

He made it to five hundred and seventy-two before his hunger swept his focus away. Within her den, Rynthara hadn't stirred an inch, her wing feathers still rustling, paws shuddering, toes stretching and clenching out of their own accord. No creature caught in the fetters of such deep slumber would sense the presence of a careful intruder.

Not even a dragon.

Nevertheless, Crytrauv still waited for a few tense moments, just to make sure she slept as soundly as he believed her to. Fortunately for him, Rynthara's den was a small, cozy thing, a shallow slope leading into a single, oblong chamber, half of it occupied by the dragon's slumbering form. The remaining space was used for cleaned and bundled furs, assortments of herbs and flowers, and even anthro-crafted items such as a beaker, a clay bowl, a water jug, and other trifles that shouldn't belong in the hoard of any respectable dragon.

What surprised him even more was Rynthara's smell. The heavy, musty scent of furs hung about the den, produced by the various neglected pelts and wooden utensils, but unlike the dogs and cats he had met in his journeys, Rynthara's fur lacked that stale odor specific to a furred creature. She smelled crisp and clean, like the invigorating morning breeze, with only her mouth, paw pads and vent oozing the fragrances specific to her kind, all of them as subtle as the creature itself.

His fascination with her exquisite coloring and strong, supple form urged Crytrauv to pause and simply stare her over, the gnawing of his stomach all but forgotten when faced with his first opportunity to glimpse Rynthara up-close. Flowing, gentle markings brightened her mauve brow, with two softly curved lines arching along her snout, sinking right under her petite nostrils. A white, circular blotch stood in the center of each softly tapered ear, similar to those of a tiger, but the similarities between her and a big cat ended just past her jaws, where slim, undulating lines like liquid mithril rippled down her neck and along her body, intersecting in the subtlest, most fascinating of ways. They stopped just short of her paws, leaving their upper parts a solemn purple, their white underside accentuating her plump, indigo paw pads.

The sharp tips of silvery claws poked past their sheaths, only to flee back to whence they came in the next second when Rynthara's paws stilled. The dragoness whimpered softly, curling her tail around herself to snuggle against the impressive fan of long, delicate plumes tipping it.

A warm shiver crept through Crytrauv's frame, rousing his still numb senses, enkindling the sense of wonder he had buried beneath his frustrations with Rynthara. Her patronizing behavior mattered not while she slept, and for the first time since he met her, Crytrauv allowed himself to bask in her unique beauty, to marvel at how her indigo flight feathers were brightened by the cobalt band sitting in a layer above them, while the ventral side boasted a layer of rich, purple feathers outlined in the finest silver. Her splendor alone tugged at Crytrauv's heart, urging him to do his utmost, if only to spend more time by her side.

The soft growl of his stomach forced Crytrauv's heart to leap up into his throat, planting a deep sense of urgency within him. He either fulfilled his task, or his hunger awoke the dragon. With slow, careful, deliberate steps, Crytrauv tiptoed into her den, gently easing his claws onto the bare stone to avoid making noise.

"Our first morning together finds you breaking the simplest clause of our arrangement," her rich, majestic voice flowed into Crytrauv's ears like the most pleasant of songs. The dragoness cracked an eye open to confirm her suspicions, only to close it back up again and curl tighter around herself, bringing her hind paws up to her snout and releasing a monstrous sigh.

Crytrauv's heart skipped a beat at just how adorable she turned out to be in this split moment, when she forsook her own principles just to get a little more rest. Noting the chill that drifted into her den, he went for the first fur that he found, and without her permission, he draped it over her back, dragging it all the way to the base of her sinuous, draconic neck.

"It's dusty and grimy," she grumbled, all while sneaking her tail under it to benefit from its warmth with every part of her body.

"It's the only cured pelt I could find, and I..." he paused to scratch at the back of his neck, uncertain of why he did what he did. "You don't have hands to...you know...while I do."

"You make it seem that it's a miracle for my kind to survive the harsher winters."

He couldn't help but chuckle, a sound that delighted Rynthara as well, for she turned her head to choose him over her slumber.

"Grab whatever you came here for. Must be important enough to rouse a dragon for it."

"Forgive the offense. I'm simply hungry," he said, pointing at his knapsack with a steadfast finger. "I'll grab that and go outside right away."

Rynthara slipped a forepaw under her cheek to rest against it, tucking her wings tighter to her sides to make herself more comfortable and less intimidating to him, undoubtedly. "You can eat and rest here if you'd like. All of the furs are dustier than I anticipated anyway, so you can wrap yourself in one as well." Rynthara purred, her moonlit eyes bearing into his. "Besides, curiosity shouldn't be punished, nor interest in a creature far above your humble status."

Crytrauv scoffed guiltily, lowering his head, scratching as his cheek to blot out her gaze. "Pardon the staring. I found myself enthralled by your coloring and, of course, the feathers. The dragons I am accustomed to are of the scaly variety."

She perked up at that, her eyes narrowing, lips tensing with the urge to ask a pressing question that never came.

"Would you like another blanket?" Crytrauv pointed his muzzle at the furs to deter her from a possibly uncomfortable topic. "Over your exposed hind paws, maybe?"

"The thinner Owldoe pelt," Rynthara said, her snout guiding him to a hide that bore a weird combination of fur and feathers. "And you fetch yourself whichever you prefer. Consider it my boon for the gems you gave me, which I'll want deposited in that earthenware jar."

With her hind paws as snug as the rest of her body, Rynthara dug her head under a wing to ready herself for the second round of rest. After he deposited her gems in the appropriate recipient and wrapped himself in a thicker fur with a curly texture to it, Crytrauv rested against the wall, listening to her breaths. He should have trembled like a leaf while sharing the den of such imposing creature, but instead, he found her barely perceptible inhales and exhales eerily soothing. The mighty dragon, reduced to nothing more than an oversized cat.

Crytrauv had to fend off the temptation of petting her, smiling under his breath as he closed his eyes, mulling over that thought in his head. She could either bite his hand off, or ask for more, for Rynthara didn't seem like the type to settle for compromises.

"Grrrrrh," his stomach growled.

The arctic fox ignored it once, twice, thrice, but when the sounds increased in intensity and his discomfort widened, he had no choice but to tiptoe out of her den while clutching his blanket and knapsack and satisfy his hunger. He sat himself cross legged, knapsack in his lap, summoning a string of jerky, a slab of hardened cheese and a tough hunk of bread for his breakfast.

Just when he was about to begin, Rynthara made her way out of her den, her previous grogginess all but vanished.

"I thought you--"

"So did I, but when sleep flees you, it's hard to catch it back. Besides, I have my morning rituals to follow, which should give you enough time to fill your stomach."

Crytrauv shrugged, yet deep down, his frustration bubbled and frothed at the thought of waiting after her when it was his time they were spending.

He finished his meal at an arguably slow pace while Rynthara darted back and forth, collecting several types of glowing mushrooms and dumping them all into a cast iron pot she brought out of her den. After stomping them to a pulp with a forepaw, she dipped the claws of each paw into their milky juice, then sprawled on her side to wade all of her paws through the air to dry them.

Must be some salve to keep her claws durable, Crytrauv thought, bagging the scraps for later and refreshing himself with half a water skin, well fed and ready to go.

If only the same could be said for Rynthara as well. Once the substance coating her paws flaked and crumbled into what looked like fine powder from afar, the dragoness grabbed a makeshift, wooden comb in her mouth, visiting various trees to collect their washed blue sap on the teeth. Crytrauv itched to ask about the origins of such a tool, but with Rynthara's elaborate morning rite prolonging to insufferable length, he decided to keep his mouth shut, lest he spoke out of turn.

His missing flute added to Crytrauv's growing impatience, hand constantly reaching to his sash to grab at the absent instrument. Playing it always restored his patience and mended his tarnished thoughts, but he foolishly left it in Rynthara's den at her behest, along with his weapons, and he didn't want to ask for such trivial favor of a dragon that already robbed him in quite the spectacular fashion.

At least there are worse masters to be a slave under, Crytrauv thought, a wry smile tugging at his lips as he watched the dragoness carefully slide the comb through her wing feathers, her sinuous neck stretching elegantly to reach down to the farthest parts of her wing.

With nothing left to do but watch her, Crytrauv settled down to grab one of his paws in his hands and idly massage the stiffness out of his paw pads. Another grueling trek awaited them, by the looks of it, one which seemed more enticing with every passing moment of doing absolutely nothing.

"Have the leaves scratched at your dainty paws in passing?" Rynthara said after she set the comb aside to breathe hot air upon her feathers. "Or is that a ploy to make me pity you enough to let you ride me as one of the witless horses your kind uses as steeds?"

"It's called a massage," Crytrauv spoke calmly, unwilling to let himself be goaded into an argument. "And it's supposed to alleviate the stiffness that comes after long walks."

"And half a day's walk is enough to turn your paw pads raw? They do look awfully small and vulnerable." Rynthara inquired, not out of malice, but of sheer curiosity.

"I've traveled through cities, valleys, highlands, wetlands, through snow and sand every element there is. It is not a matter of frailty, but a boon that I give to myself, similar to the way you treat your claws and feathers."

Left with no way to come out on top, Rynthara seized upon the only dignified path left to her. "I desire demonstration of the effects this massage has on one's' feet. If my paws feel renewed after you are done with them, then I may spend an additional day with you to learn more of your intriguing rites." She returned to her wing to help dry the film of watery, translucent sap on her feathers, looking at him with the corner of her eye, studying him intently.

Crytrauv continued his own ritual, biding his time, giving Rynthara the opportunity to study the motion of his fingers, and wonder about the effects they would have on her own paws. Dragons, although imposing, probably enjoyed being stroked and caressed as well, and a young specimen such as Rynthara probably looked forward to the massage far more than she dared to admit. Her toes already tensed and clenched slightly as she watched him, her imagination hard at work at exaggerating the pleasure derived from a mere foot massage.

Before she had the chance to raise the bar too high, Crytrauv pushed himself onto his feet, rubbing his hands in anticipation, fighting back the urge to smile at his first opportunity to truly surprise this dragoness. "I will try my best not to disappoint."

"And if you do, then at least we shall both take comfort in the thought that our partnership is short lived."

Rynthara lifted herself onto her limbs as well, employing her magic to visibly dry and crack the sap into fine powder. That done, she fluttered her wings to get rid of the remnants, settled onto her side, and lifted one of her forepaws for Crytrauv, her ebony pupils shrunk to thin, menacing slits.

"Proceed."

Crytrauv bowed respectfully to offer her the proper courtesy, but instead of walking into her ploy, he chose to approach this from a different perspective by pointing at one of her hind paws. "Wouldn't it be better if I massage a hind paw? They seem harder to access, and this way, we also maintain proper distance."

"Have it your way," Rynthara said, crossing her forepaw over the other and raising a haunch instead, her bean-shaped toe pads and plump heel pad staring Crytrauv right in the face.

The arctic fox walked up to the sprawled dragoness, keepings his breaths shallow and his hazel eyes on her rather than allow them to drift lower, between her legs. Due to her position, the pink rims of her sex gained amplitude, standing out amidst the sea of purple fur, their secrets locked beneath the taut, fleshy lips. Given how tight she looked down there, Crytrauv safely assumed that she had never mated. Might be that she hadn't pierced herself with her tongue either, which further stoked his nervousness as he settled comfortably on his rump in front of her hind paw, inadvertently facing her sex as well.

"I don't mind if you grow, so long as you don't spend yourself over one of my paws or fur," the dragoness said as her pupils shifted to his loins.

"What makes you believe I will?" Crytrauv smiled sheepishly, crossing his legs for better balance. He considered asking if one of her previous anthro companions gave her the reason to believe that, but thought better of it as he grabbed her hind paw to drag it above his lap, within comfortable reach.

"Is this fine with you?" he asked, cupping a pair of her massive toes in each hand, their warmth fulfilling, their herbal smell soothing.

"So long as you do more than just stare at it."

He had no intention of doing that. In fact, he began rolling his thumbs over the smooth ovals already, his eagerness giving brief pause to the dragoness whose tense pose showed genuine surprise at being met with such enthusiasm. Her toes tightened, claws fleeing their sanctuary halfway, her other hind paw twitching on the ground, as if eager to experience the same sensations.

Pleased with these initial results, Crytrauv dragged her paw closer, cradling it to his chest reverently, shifting lower to her bigger, fleshier heel pad, delighting it with slow, methodical caresses of his swirling thumbs, applying just the slightest amounts of pressure. "I've never touched pads as soft as yours before."

"That is because you spend your time around mangy, unsophisticated creatures." Rynthara eased her paw into his embrace, relaxing her toes, allowing Crytrauv the opportunity to slowly, carefully slide the thumb of his left hand between two of them to help single them out.

The dragoness' paw jerked in his grip, her instinct shying away from such foreign touch. Crytrauv, however, noted her resolve, so he clutched her paw tighter to hold it in place, showing to Rynthara that he was equally committed to help her discover this more exotic type of pleasure.

If only she could relax...Rynthara's silver claws remained protracted, hooking against the swath of cloth wrapped around his chest, unwilling to let go and expose her pads to his tantalizing caress. So, Crytrauv had to remove his thumb from between her toes and resume his broader, more generic movements meant to drain the tension out of her.

Her toes spread slightly in response, yet her claws remained out of their sheaths, dragging an inch down, tearing the soft fabric. The arctic fox swallowed back his frustration at his inability to ask her to relax and tried his best to maintain the picture of self-control and serenity.

"I don't think this is wise," Rynthara finally said, attempting to withdraw her paw through a more forceful tug this time around. "I may injure you without my consent."

"You haven't injured Nilra, so why would you scratch me?"

She scoffed dismissively at that. "Because you are small and awfully frail."

Crytrauv embraced her paw with both hands, ignoring the motion of her claws for the time being. His thumbs slid underneath her paw to press against the broad, central pad while his four fingers caressed the upper, violet colored fur of her paw. He followed the contour of her bones, stroking them ever so gentle, marveling at their structure. For some reason, he had always expected dragon paws to follow a different skeletal structure, but Rynthara's matched those of a big cat, with only the size to mark the distinguishing factor. A single one of her hind paws easily covered his chest, the claws protruding from the white slits marking their hideout as long as his fingers, only infinitely sharper and deadlier. Their threat was only diluted by the fascinating softness of her pads, subtle as silk compared to his rougher, canine ones.

She attempted to remove her paw again, and again, yet every time, Crytrauv remained steadfast, switching between various motions, pressure depths, and stroking frequencies. He knew of the battle that raged within her. Of how her curiosity to sample this massage battled her discomfort with how quickly her pads moistened under his touch.

He chose not to broach this topic. Felines sweated through their pads, both to help regulate their temperature and as a reflection of their state of mind, so why not dragons? In Rynthara's case, he wasn't even certain if it was sweat. It had a slightly oily texture, with a very subtle silvery sheen to it, along with a small dose of pheromones that trickled their way into his nostrils.

Excitement. An insatiable yearn for more of his delightful touch. Lust.

Crytrauv hesitated when Rynthara forcefully pulled her paw back, his mind too busy unraveling the secrets of her mild, pleasant fragrance.

"That is quite enough," she said, hurrying her hind paws under her belly, then dragging a wing over them for good measure. "You are, indeed, skilled with your hands, and I shall spend an additional day at your side, but my curiosity has been satisfied, so it's time that we are on our way."

Her obvious lie hurt Crytrauv more than it perplexed him. He wanted to soothe her worries, to reassure her that he found her reaction to his touch intriguing and, why not, delightful, but instead, he remained silent as he pushed himself up, unwilling to press his luck further after this most surprising victory.

"No," she said, her tail blocking his advance. "First, I must scout the surrounding area and ensure that none of my less amiable animal companions patrol it. Once I make sure it's safe, I shall come back for you."

***The End of chapter 1***

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