FSE

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It was after school, and about two hours before evening meal, a good time for doing nothing. As they got older, their days got more and more regimented. This year they had another hour of study hall, and they had added tactics. Next year, more tactics, and they'd start drilling. The teachers seemed to understand that they needed a little time to engage in the social graces, though. Like spitting, and fighting, and basic vandalism.

And sometimes revenge.

They had staked out the space outside the dining hall as their own. There was a hierarchy to these things. As fourth years they were kind of in the middle. The little kids wouldn't bother them, and if bigger kids came along then they_would clear out. The bigger kids preferred the ball courts and the arena, though, so most of the time they were left alone. Only that weird kid, the transfer, was hanging around, and he was in the dining hall with a book. Books were for _study, for God's sake, and study was only for when it was absolutely necessary. If he tried to stick his nose in, the five of them would look at him in a certain way, and if he had any sense he'd clear out. If he didn't, they'd thrash him. That actually might be kind of fun, if he did bother them. At least it would be something to do.

Bela had a rubber ball and was bouncing it, but he didn't seem inclined to share yet. Rial was sitting on the top step. Every once in a while he'd spit. One time, Dulio made it all the way past the broom closet, but he'd been drinking milk all day. Ree would be happy just to make it as far as the door. Ciero was hacking his name into the banister with a claw. He was quiet, sullen, pissed off about something, and the others wouldn't quit ragging him about it. It would serve until they got a game of handball started, or found some other distraction.

"Betcha it's maths," said Dulio. "It's always maths. Poor thing can't count to twenty if he's got socks on."

"Nah," said Bela. "Look at him. He's tormented, like. He's got, whaddyacall'em, inner demons."

"That's 'demented,'" Rial said knowingly.

"He looks demented!" Nirez laughed.

Dulio shook his muzzle, "Oh, we're gonna need a priest."

Bela gave a little grin, "Or a physic."

Dulio seized the blue-gold by both shoulders and cried out, "Quick, Bela! Storm the commissary! We need prune juice! Prune juice and oatmeal!"

That broke them all up.

"And a funnel!" Nai shouted over the resulting chaos.

"Hoop," said Ree, bent double and gasping. "Hoop!"

Bela leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down it, hand over his eyes as if he might faint. Dulio leaned against him, one hand on Bela's chest, the other whacking him repeatedly on the shoulder. "Oh, God," he said. "Oh, God! For which end, though?"

Ciero bore it stiffly, head bowed, both hands clenched around the banister. He hated them. Oh, how he hated them. It was all so easy for them, and they never understood. They didn't know how much it hurt. They didn't know how much _they_hurt him. He couldn't tell them; they would only laugh. Laughing so hard while he stood here and wanted to die.

Nirez danced over to him, giggling, dizzy, and put a hand above his tail, leaning on him. "Oh, dear," he said. "Oh, dear . . ."

A funnel, thought Ciero.

He turned on the copper and shoved him, snarling, "Get OFF of me!"

Nai staggered backwards, put a foot behind him and found . . . Nothing. There were stairs here, only a few of them, compensating for some minor error in planning. Three on the left side, increasing to four on the extreme right. And Nai went mincing right over the edge.

He had barely a moment to think--o,I am fall--and then he had. Something twisted up beneath him and went crunch.

The pain blossomed in his arm, dry, hot and searing. A fire of pain. He wanted to scream and couldn't, couldn't. It was too large. It filled his throat. It ached in his chest. He couldn't breathe.

This is how I die, he thought, and he was afraid. He gasped and got nothing. Gasped and got nothing. It seemed to go on for ages. Years. He didn't know how he could still be conscious, still be living. Maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was hell.

Nai went crunch when he fell, and he didn't get up, so right away the others knew something was wrong. Dulio shouted his name and started quickly down the stairs, almost falling himself. Bela turned on Ciero and shoved him back towards the wall. "Hell is wrong with you?" he said, or started to say. He never finished. Nai started to scream.

"Oh, no," said Dulio.

Nai heard him. He couldn't move, couldn't lift his muzzle to look, couldn't even turn over to get the weight of his body off his arm, but he could hear. He could hear all of them, their words, their footsteps, even the nervous rustle of their wings. He could hear himself, too. He was crying. Screaming. He sounded like a baby, like a big, stupid baby, but he couldn't stop. He was afraid to stop, afraid the pain would block his air and kill him if he stopped.

"Is that bone," Bela said rapidly, with no inflection. "Oh my God is that bone. Is that a bone_there . . ." He broke off quite suddenly and something went _thud. He either fainted or fell.

"Oh, no," Dulio repeated, quieter now. He sounded like he might be sick.

Ree was mewling, hysterical. He was digging at the fabric of Dulio's wing, a sound like rain on a tarpaulin. "Make him stop doing that! Make him stop screaming like that! Dulio, make him stop it! Make him stop!"

I wish I could, Nai thought distantly. I'm sorry, guys. I really wish I could . . .

Someone touched his shoulder, touched carefully, and then his chest. Nirez drew in three sharp gasps--Hurts! That hurts! It hurts!--and then he was on his back, looking up at the ceiling, with his broken arm lying on top of him. An unfamiliar face in a brilliant shade of orange looked down on him.

Dulio's muzzle, paler and pinker, intruded. "Get away from him! Don't touch him! You're _hurting_him!"

"No," said the stranger, "I'm going to make it stop."

Orange, thought Nai, somehow apart from himself. Oranges. That weird kid, the transfer . . . They called him Oranges. It was that goofy-ass color of him. Nobody cared what he was really called. He had green eyes, dark, clear green, like bits of broken bottle.

He leaned in close and stroked Nai on the muzzle, a gentle touch, comforting. "It's all right," he said. "It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt now." And he was so soft, and certain, and sincere, that for an instant Nai _believed_him.

It doesn't? How come I'm crying, then?

That confused him so much that he stopped.

Given a moment to think, he would've started crying again, and harder, because it did hurt. But the new dragon didn't give him a moment. He kept talking, low and gentle, so that Nai had to be quiet to hear. And he said such nice things. Kept saying that it didn't hurt, that he didn't have to feel the pain, that he could just feel the other things. Touching. The dragon kept touching him, petting his muzzle, his hand, and he could feel that, and that felt really nice. There was something else, something really bad, but he didn't want to feel that and the dragon said he didn't have to, if he'd just listen and be very still. He tried to be.

The dragon's gaze was steady, unblinking, calm. So calm it just had to be all right, didn't it? It felt better just to look at him, and Nai did so with rapt attention. He said such pretty things.

Nirez spoke without meaning to speak. The thought came, and it just came out of him, "You've got pretty eyes." So clear and deep and green. A green like that you shouldn't find in nature. You ought to have to make it in a lab.

"Do you think so?" the dragon said. "If you look really deep into them, sometimes you can go away somewhere nice."

"Nice?" Nirez said doubtfully. He peered into the dragon's eyes. He didn't see anyplace nice, just green. Pretty green.

"Yes. It happens slowly. First you start to feel sleepy. You do feel sleepy, don't you?"

"Yes . . ." He was exhausted. He had been scared, crying . . . Couldn't think why. Didn't matter now. His eyelids drooped, and he almost lost focus entirely. He saw his arm against his chest. It looked funny, twisted, and there was a white bit poking out. It felt like . . . Nothing. Could've belonged to someone else, someone very far, and sleeping. So sleepy. He gazed back into the dragon's eyes. He wanted to go somewhere nice, if he could find it.

"Good," the dragon told him, and that made him smile. "That's good. It's nice to feel so sleepy, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"And everything is starting to go really far away. It's not scary, and it doesn't hurt. It's just nice . . ."

"Green," Nirez protested, rousing somewhat.

"Yes. It's nice and green. You can close your eyes now, and you'll be able to see it. Let's go there. It's nice there, and you can sleep . . ."

Nai nodded, eyes closed. He could see it, and everything else was very far. There was just . . . green. Pretty green. And a nice voice talking to him. It made him sleepy, so sleepy, like a warm bed and a soft blanket, and a hot cup of tea with honey. He liked to listen to it. He liked to do what it said. And when it told him to, he slept.

---

"The hell . . . ?" said Bela. Oranges looked up at him and went, Shhh.

"How do you do that?" Rial said, more quietly.

The dragon shrugged. "I dunno. I just know how."

"We've gotta get him to the infirmary," Dulio said. "Can you, uh, can you get him to walk like that?"

"Maybe," said Oranges, "but I wouldn't like to. It'd . . . Y'know, it'd move, if he stood up."

They all flinched and looked away, picturing that. Bela had to sit down again.

"There's a stretcher in the closet!" Ree volunteered. "Remember when Narro hit Crusario in the head with a rock?"

Dulio gave the little silver a shove. "Go on and get it, fool!"

It was simple thing, light, two stout poles and a canvas sling. Miles too big for Nai, of course. Dulio and Bela sort of lifted him, sort of dragged him. Nai went, "Ah," once, softly, and they almost dropped him on his tail. Oranges scrambled forward and pet his muzzle again until he settled.

"Geez, that's weird," Dulio said. "I mean, it's good--_the, the part where he's not screaming . . . But it's _weird."

Oranges backed off and stared at the floor, self-conscious.

"Oh, no, don't go away!" said the paler gold. He snatched the bright orange dragon by the arm and dragged him nearer. "Don't let him wake up! Keep doing it, whatever it is."

"Um. Okay," said Oranges shyly.

"You're coming with us," Dulio informed him, pointing a finger. "Bela!" he turned to the blue. "Are you all right to help carry him or are you gonna go all funny?"

"I'm fine," said Bela. "It's only that . . . that white bit . . ." He swallowed audibly and turned his head away.

"Well, you stand in front and you don't have to look at it." Dulio didn't want to look at it, either, but he had enough sense to look away. Mostly. "Where the hell is Ciero?" he demanded of them all. He should be helping. He should at least show his ugly face so they could shout at him.

"Run off," Bela said.

Dulio shook his muzzle, disgusted. "What a wash out."

"Loser," said Rial, with an appropriate gesture.

"Psycho," said Bela. "Head case."

Dulio and Rial nodded agreement.

Oranges just looked confused at them for a moment before he turned his attention back to the dragon on the stretcher. The taller two hefted it, and all five of them went off like a little parade, with the silver in front to open doors and make way.

---

"Ahh. There it is!" The healer accepted the pasteboard file in both hands. It was skinny yet, with only ten years worth of accumulation, but with paper and parchment and notes of all sizes that were easily lost. He spread it open on the foot end of the bed, which made a convenient desk, given the size of the patient. "Hmm . . . No allergies or interactions. Good!" He turned to the cadre of children grouped before him. They were squirming with uncomfortable urgency and none of them would look him in the eyes. "Now, which one of you can tell me how this happened?"

A flurry of glances. Oranges lifted a brow, asking honestly. Dulio shrugged and looked over at Bela. Should we tell?

Bela shook his head and shrugged. I dunno. He inclined his muzzle and looked back at Dulio. Do you want to?

Dulio shrugged then shook his head.I dunno. No. They both looked at Rial.

The silver frowned darkly. Yes!_But then he shook his head. _No. You didn't sell out to an adult, not a friend, not even an _enemy_if you could help it. If there was to be justice, you'd have it on your own terms.

Bela gave assent, a tiny dip of his muzzle. Yeah. No.

All this in the space of a few seconds, while the healer looked at them and tapped his quill expectantly.

"He fell," said Oranges.

"I fell!" Nai announced, as if it were all his very own idea. He settled again with a sigh.

The others all nodded agreement. Bela caught the bright gold's eye and quirked a brow. Did you get all of that? Really?

The dragon just shrugged.

"Uh-huh," said the healer, with doubtful inflection. He made a swift notation, then added a star and wrote at the bottom of the page, Probably a fight. "There! That ought to do it." He spoke with good cheer, in satisfaction of a job well begun. "Well now, let's see to your friend, then, shall we? You needn't stay," he added, expecting they would be anxious about the blood. The big one, the blue-gold, practically bowled the other two over with his readiness to leave.

One of them, though, an oddly-shaded gold, stayed right were he was and even sat on the edge of the bed. He had been the most protective of the lot of them, hardly willing to stop stroking the young copper's hand, just like a little nurse. His gaze was steady, and calm . . . And vaguely disapproving.

"You really ought to blink more, young one," the healer said, unnerved. "That's bad for your eyes."

He did blink. Once. Then he said, "If I leave him, he's gonna scream."

"Oh, now why would he do that?"

"Because I'm the only thing making him stop," the gold said gravely.

"Well . . . That's very kind of you, but we have plenty of medicine here--"

"Then hadn't you better give him some?"

The healer sputtered a few moments, now more than unnerved, actually a little scared. There was just a hint of menace about this child, and an eerie sort of certainty. It occurred to him belatedly that the copper should have been screaming, if he were awake enough to shore up his friends' lies. That was a compound fracture. Ordinarily, they would've given him something right when he came in, just to be able to hear themselves talk.

"What is it exactly that you're doing to him?" the healer asked, eyes narrowed.

"Nothin'," came the reply, which he supposed was the only thing you'd ever get out of a child after that sort of question.

Just to make done with it, the healer pawed into his kit and drew out a syringe.

"Is that a shot?" the gold said, with surprisingly appropriate timidness.

"Ye-es," said the healer, measuring against the light. The young gold stayed until he had given it (the copper made not a sound, but the gold flinched and hissed) then he scurried off after the others, as cowed and squeamish as any child.

The healer gave a low mutter and a shake of his head, "Weird."

---

Ciero sneaked in. He had to sneak out, first, and that was especially hard because he was scared of the others. He skipped evening meal, found a dark corner near the dorm entrance and remained there, quietly, until everyone quit paying attention to him and went away; after evening meal, after lights out, after he wasn't supposed to be anywhere but bed. Maybe they would cover for him, maybe they'd try to get him in trouble on purpose, but they didn't know where he was, so that didn't matter.

He had to keep low, in the shadowy places. He was tall for his age, but without a crest he'd never pass for an adult. If anyone saw him they'd know he shouldn't be there. He had to crouch and stay under the line of sight--that was one good thing they taught in tactics, he guessed. He felt clumsy, stupid, obvious and loud, but no one seemed to notice him. Maybe they didn't care. Good, if they didn't, for once.

The infirmary was dark, quiet, and there were lots of places to hide: raised beds and cloth dividers. He ran into one of the dividers and racked it back on its wheels, almost knocked the fucking thing over, but he caught himself and he caught it, too, and the wheels were slick and silent with oil. Unbalanced, half-panicked, he put his hand in a cold, metal pan and yanked it out again, horrified at what he might be touching. He upset the pan (empty) in the process and it fell with a clatter.

It sounded like a lot of noise, a lot a lot a lot of noise, but nobody came. One of the dark shapes on a nearby bed stirred, muttered, slept. Ciero made a quiet swear, under his breath.

It was cold in here, all metal and tile. It smelled of disinfectant, and pee--despite the disinfectant. And blood, a little, too. His toe claws clicked on the tile floor, made him nervous.

He looked at the dragons in the beds. They were all too big, obviously so. He didn't have to look for faces. He didn't have to get so near that maybe they might notice him, or wake. He looked at their feet. At last he found a bed that was occupied, made up with a blanket, but with the shape of no toes at the end, and then he knew.

Nai was propped up in the bed, not with pillows. You had to bring your own pillows, if you wanted some. In the infirmary, they'd slip a wedge under your mattress and call it good. The shape he made beneath the covers stopped just halfway down the bed.

He looked so little. The bed was too big, that was part of it. The cast was too big, too white. His arm, where it emerged above the elbow, was stick thin in comparison. He was drawn, curled, with bruised hollows under his eyes. His eyes were open but glassy, distant.

Ciero wondered why they left him sitting up like that. Was it to help his arm get better? Were they scared he'd throw up? Did they just forget about him?

He crept a little closer. Nai was . . . awake? But didn't seem to notice him.

Ciero felt a nibble of fear, one that might grow to full-blown panic if not quickly addressed. Maybe he's dead.

No, he told himself, and he almost said it aloud. You didn't die from a broken arm, and even if you did, they would put you someplace, they wouldn't _leave_you like that and just . . . and just . . . They wouldn't do that!

-Sure they would. Because you're a bad, bad person and it's to punish you.

That's crazy! You're crazy! Stop it!

He stepped up closer, put a hand out, but could not bring himself to touch. (What if Nai was cold?) He spoke instead: "Nai? Nai . . . ?"

Nirez blinked, lifted his muzzle, smiled faintly. He looked awful. "Oh, hi," he said. His voice was small. Everything about him was small. Just too . . . fucking. . . small! It offended one. If he'd been a bug, Ciero would have stamped on him. There. That's the end of it. He's in bug heaven.

"Did you come an' visit me?" Nai asked.

"Yeah," Ciero managed, voice low.

"Were you here a long time? Did I go to sleep?"

"No."

"Good," said Nai. He gave a little sigh and his focus drifted to the middle distance. He thought about . . . not much. He felt nice. That was . . . better. Better now. "I . . . I had a shot!" he declared, almost too loud. Ciero tried to shush him, but he didn't need to. Nai didn't have the energy to go on like that. "There," he said. He tried to lift his free hand and indicate, but it was too heavy, too slow, and quite a long way away. He lifted it and let it drop. "I waked up," he said. "An' it hurt a lot a lot a lot, an' I 'as cryin', an' I 'as scared . . ."

He was slurring and Ciero didn't like that. It was like he was sick, or poisoned somehow. Like the healers did something more to him, on purpose. Ciero could just see them, conspiring over Nai's little body. Hey, as long as we've got him here, let's scoop his brains out and replace them with taffy. It'll be funny.

Ciero curled both hands into fists and tried to banish the thought, but the offended anger remained.

". . . An' they said I could have a shot an' I said no, I said no no no, but they held me down." Nai nodded to himself. Yes, they did. He remembered that. He had that exactly right. "Held me down. An' I had a shot. They said I'd sleep," he confided, "but I'm not sleepy, I just feel nice. I feel niiice . . ." He yawned, in spite of what he'd said, and made no motion to cover it. Then it was like someone hit a button and reset him. "Ci-Ciero?" He blinked heavily. His head was swaying above his shoulders, as if he heard faint music. "Were you here a long time? Did you come an' visit me?"

Ciero swore. He turned from the bed, reeling. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to cry. He couldn't do anything, because if he did anything, someone might see him and hear him and take him away. He wanted someone to take him away, and comfort him, and tell him it wasn't his fault, and it would be all right, but they wouldn't do that. They'd shout at him, and he'd cry, and they'd shout at him more because he cried . . .

And clearly, clearly, it was not going to be all right!

He darted an accusing finger at Nai. "This is all your_fault!_ Why wouldn't you leave me alone? Why wouldn't you just, fucking, leave me alone? You had to push it. You always have to push it. I never would've hurt you! You made me! I hate you!"

Why am I doing this? he wondered quietly to himself. Why am I shouting at him? I hurt him. I'm_hurting _him. What if he dies? What if he dies, and the last thing I ever did was shout at him?

But that made him even angrier. The little bastard, he had no right to die! He had no right to be so hurt, just from a little fucking shove! Why wasn't he stronger? Why wasn't he bigger? How could he just sit there, so pale and tiny and fucking helpless, just inviting somebody to hurt him again?

Ciero was about to start hitting him, blaming him, hurting him for hurting himself. Either that or he would scream and bring a nurse, a healer, a guard, or someone. He had reached the point where being punished was the best thing that could happen to him. Someone would have to stop him, because he couldn't stop himself.

"Oh," Nai said softly. Ciero hushed to hear him. "I'm sorry."

Sorry? thought Ciero. He could not speak.

"You were sad," Nai said, considering the memory. It seemed like ages ago. There was a lot of pain between now and then and he was awfully tired. "I thought maybe you'd laugh. I'm dumb, I guess. I dunno." He couldn't shrug. He shifted.

"You're not dumb," Ciero said.

"No?" Nai brightened a little, as much as he was able. "Is it okay?"

Ciero put a hand out, touched him. He wasn't cold. He wasn't dead. He was hurt so badly he couldn't act right, but he was still Nai. And maybe he might get better, and this didn't have to be forever. "Yeah. It's okay."

He wanted to cry. Maybe he already was, a little. Nai was in no condition to notice, though. That was good. He'd just have to be quiet if he didn't want anyone else to see.

Nirez made a contented sound, not quite a word, not quite a sigh. He closed his eyes and settled back against the angled mattress. "'M sleepy," he said. "I want my blanket."

Ciero pulled it up over his chest and carefully, carefully, over the cast. Then he tucked it around Nai's shoulders so it wouldn't slip down.

"Ohh. Nice." Nai's muzzle drooped; it touched his chest, and his head lolled against his shoulder.

Ciero stretched a wing over him, and an arm, protecting him. He put his head in Nai's lap, closed his eyes, and that was where the nurse found him.

---

They woke him for morning meal. Ciero was gone, and the pain was back, all bad things. He didn't want food. Given his own choice, he would've wedged himself in some small, dark space, cradled his wounded arm against him, and cried himself to sleep for breakfast.

They put the tray in his lap anyway and he had to look at it.

They said he couldn't have a shot. They said he couldn't have anything until he ate something.

He couldn't think of eating. He couldn't even think of moving to eat. The pain would be . . . greater. Awful. Prohibitive. He just sat there, limp, and tried not to move, tried not to even breathe, as his arm cranked up to a mindnumbing howl and his cereal grew cold and congealed before him.

A nurse peeked in on him. Maybe it was hours later. Maybe it was days. He saw Nai's brimming dish and frowned. "Won't you eat even a little?"

Nai made no answer. His head was bowed.

"Your friends are here to see you," the nurse informed him with calculated indifference.

"My friends?" Nai managed, looking up. Oh, no. He shouldn't have done that, but it was too late to take it back.

The nurse smiled at him, an awful smile. Adults were vicious. If you gave them any advantage, they'd hit you over the head with it until you broke. And then they'd dry your tears, and they'd smile and assure you gently that it was all for your very own good. They were so evil, they probably even believed it.

The nurse said, "I'm not letting them in until you eat something."

Nai felt himself beginning to cry.

"--And you'd better be quick about it. It's almost time for school. They won't be back for hours."

He did cry. He cried and begged and pleaded, but eventually he ate. Huge, sticky spoonfuls between each sob. He got about halfway through before he felt sure he was going to be sick and he said so, and though the nurse pressed him, he could not stomach another bite, not even for the sake of his friends.

"All right. My goodness," said the nurse, with the air of one who is merciful. He took the dish away and wiped Nai's muzzle with a dry cloth. "Now, young one, stop this foolishness. You don't want your friends to see you this way."

Nai said no, he didn't, and he allowed the nurse to clean him up. He had some water, and a spoonful of bitter medicine, and then some more water, and then he felt a little better. Then and only then did the nurse allow his friends into the infirmary.

"Aw, geez!" said Bela. He turned immediately and disappeared behind the cloth divider. Dulio had to grab his arm and drag him out again. Rial came over in the mean time and stood there simpering at him.

Nai touched his muzzle with his free hand. His mouth found a claw and instinctively chewed. Oh, I must look bad. Somehow that made him feel worse. Pathetic. Ashamed.

"Hey! There he is!" Dulio said, too bright and too loud. He wielded a quill pen with nervous importance. "Where's that Goddamn cast? I'ma sign that bad puppy!"

A nurse peeked over the divider and hissed at him, "Quiet!"

Dulio brayed startled laughter.

Nai drew his arm out and lay the cast across his blanket, willing sacrifice. If he didn't do something to keep the red-gold occupied, he was going to get the three of them thrown out. Dulio dipped his quill and began to scratch letters with care. The plaster was rough and uneven and did not readily accept the ink.

D . . . U . . .

"Does it hurt?" Bela asked him.

"Yeah," said Nai. "It's . . ." It wasn't sharp. It wasn't dull. It was a crackle of pain, like crumpled wax paper, or a raw pine board that bristled with slivers. Beneath that was an exhausted sort of soreness that started in the arm and radiated through his entire body. It made him feel weak and somehow unsound. Like a little pressure in just the right place would break him utterly. And he wouldn't break cleanly, he would splinter. Like dry, rotten wood. Like the hollow bone in his arm.

But he couldn't say that, and if he even tried he was gonna cry again. He swallowed. "It's kinda bad."

"Can't they give you something? You know, medicine?" The blue-gold glanced around them, offended at the lack of attention. It was an infirmary, wasn't it? There should be nurses hovering over him and attending his every need. If they were just going to let him lie there, he might as well come home!

Nirez started to shrug, couldn't, and had to speak, "I dunno. I had a little. They said I can't have too much or I'll be sick. They said, 'suck it up.'"

"Can you?" said Bela.

"No!" Nai admitted, and dissolved into tears.

"Aw, geez," said Bela. Dulio quit writing, stumbled back a pace and knocked into a cloth divider with his tail. Rial came forward and tried to hush the copper with a hand, "No-no-no, don't cry. They'll come and make us leave. Please . . ."

Nai knew that, and he was trying to do it very softly, but he just couldn't stop. It hurt, and he was miserable, and they were making him eat and they didn't want him to have his friends and he didn't want to be here! "Wanna . . . I wanna . . . I wanna go home!"

"Okay-okay!" said Ree. "I know! Look, you want some water?" He offered it because it was there. If there had been a plate of squirming beetles, he would've offered one of those, too. "Here. Here's some water. Here, that helps."

Nirez drank, choked a little, drank some more. It did help, a little, but it still hurt. He sniffled, rubbed his muzzle, wiped his eyes, then dried his hand on his blanket. "What happened to the dragon with the pretty eyes? He made it stop."

The three of them glanced at each other, silent with embarrassment. It had been so weird.

Bela shrugged. "Dunno. He's been around, I guess."

"I saw him at evening meal," Rial said. "He takes two sugars in his tea."

"We should've said . . ." said Dulio, but he let it go. Nobody had wanted to say anything, not even just 'thanks.' It was too weird.

"He was nice," the copper said. He wiped his eyes again, though they were dry. "Is Ciero okay? Did they say he couldn't come back?"

More silence, more glances. They had all been rather annoyed at Ciero, to put it mildly. They certainly hadn't expected Nai to be worried about him. Now they didn't know what to say, because nobody wanted to make him cry again.

"Aren't you, uh," said Dulio, "uh, a little upset with him?"

"No. It wasn't on purpose. An' he came last night an' said sorry." Maybe he hadn't exactly said_sorry_, but Nai was a little hazy on that and he didn't want to have an argument about it.

"Are you sure you weren't just sleepin'?" Ree asked him gently.

Nirez turned his muzzle up. "No. He came and said sorry. He said he was really, really sorry and he was really nice to me and if you guys were mean to him I'm gonna be mad at you."

"We haven't seen him, really," said Dulio. "So we weren't mean." They still felt mean, Bela especially. He was silent and agape at the very idea of 'sorry.'

"Well, when you see him, you have to be nice to him."

"Aw, Nai, come on!" said Bela. "I mean . . ." He threw an exasperated gesture. "Just look at this awful mess!"

"It wasn't on purpose," Nai affirmed. "You know that, you guys."

Mutters. Grumbles. A general consensus of Yeah, I guess.

"And he said sorry, so that's the end of it. Now you have to be nice."

Mutters. Grumbles. Another consensus of _Yeah, I guess,_even more reluctant this time.

Nirez hefted a sigh. That would have to do. He was tired, and he hardly knew what he was saying anymore. He could hardly think what he'd said in the first place. "I'm sleepy," he said. "You guys have school, don't you?" He tried to rub his eyes again but this time he bonked himself in the head with his cast.

"Dulio!" cried Rial. "What did you write?"

The red-gold giggled reflexively and shrugged. "What?" he said. "Nothin'."

Nai had a look for himself. Though the letters were wobbly and he could only get them upside down, it was clear enough: D-U-M-A-R-S

"He has to wear that around!" Rial insisted, incensed. "He has to wear it to school!"

"It's not even spelt right," Bela said.

"Well, I had to quit," said Dulio. "'Cos, y'know . . ." He dipped the quill again and added an E.

Bela peered at the result. "That's _still_not right."

Dulio made a pointed gesture. "Sit and spin, Bela," he said gravely. "Sit and spin."

Nai flopped back against the angled mattress. It didn't matter. He'd scratch it out if he had to. He was too tired to do it now. He was too tired to even laugh.

Dulio seemed to realize, at least the last bit. He frowned. Well, if Nai wasn't going to laugh at him what the hell else could he do? "I guess we better go. I mean, we're gonna get our asses beat anyway, but . . ."

"Yes," Nai said weakly. "Thank you. I'm glad you came, I'm just . . . I . . ." He was just hurt. He was just miserable, and he wasn't strong enough to keep it from them. He wanted to cry again, but this time he wouldn't. He wouldn't. "You could come back after," he offered. "That'd be nice."

He looked awful, he could see it in their faces. He looked away.

"Sure, we'll come," Dulio said.

"'Course," said Bela.

Nirez could only nod. He was going to cry again, he knew it, but he could keep it back until they left him. If they left quickly.

Ree hooked Dulio by the arm with urgency. He was the nearest of them, maybe he saw the gathering tears. "C'mon, you guys. We're late already. C'mon."

Even when they were gone, the little copper could not let go entirely. He didn't want a nurse. He didn't want them to _smile_at him, and tell him not to be so foolish, and tell him to be brave. So he put his head under the blanket, stuffed some of it into his mouth and bit, and cried that way. It didn't make anything better, it didn't help, but at least no one came. Eventually he stopped on his own. He was tired.

But he couldn't sleep.

There was not much to look at, not much to do, not much at all except to curl up and feel pain. The cloth dividers blocked his view of anyone beside him, and across the way the bed was empty. Sometimes he heard them, a harsh call for a nurse or other noises of discomfort. In his own little cell there was the bed, a blanket, and a small table with two folded handkerchiefs, a vase of water and a cup. Ree knew how to make a rabbit out of a handkerchief, but Nai didn't, and he wasn't liable to figure it out one-handed. He didn't like to disturb them, anyway, they were just laid out so neatly, folded into perfect little squares.

There were cracks and stains in the plastered ceiling above him. At first they bothered him, set against the smooth, white walls and tiled floor. Later, bored stiff, he studied them and tried to make pictures and stories. There was sort of a bunny . . . or a duck. And maybe an old, old dragon's face with lots of wrinkles.

Noon meal came and he refused to touch it. His friends wouldn't be back for hours, anyway. They tried to bribe him with medicine, they said he'd be sick if he had it on an empty stomach, but they were lying. Adults were terrible liars, especially medical adults. It only stings a bit! they'd say. Yeah. Sure.

They finally gave him some medicine anyway, because he was crying. It was a stupid, babyish way to get what he wanted, but it helped to remember that it really, really did hurt. A lot.

He did kind of feel sick after, and everything got very swimmy, but he sat quietly and admitted nothing.

I will not ask for help, he thought to himself, with resolve beyond his years. I will not ask for help. He took tiny sips out of his cup of water and waited for the swimmy feeling to pass, and eventually it did.

The pain came back, too.

---

Three dragons peeped around the cloth divider, one-two-three, like robbers in a fairy story. Ree the shortest, Dulio in the middle, Bela on top.

"Hey, Nai," said Bela, "look who we found." He reached back and unceremoniously shoved Oranges out in front of them. The dragon nearly fell.

"Bela!" cried Nirez. He was happy to see the nice dragon who took the pain away, but this attitude bespoke extortion. "Be nice to him!"

"I'm nice," Bela said. He patted the orangy-gold companionably on the shoulder. "He's fine! You're fine, aren't you?" No pause for a reply. "He's fine!"

"He's awesome," Ree said, looking worshipful.

"He's bad ass," Dulio proclaimed. He gave the red-gold an encouraging elbow to the rib. "Hey, tell him what you did!" Again, no pause for a reply. "So the nurse is, like, this ugly old bastard--ex-soldier, I bet--and he takes up the whole friggin' doorway . . ." If he meant the nurse Nai thought he meant, the dragon wasn't particularly ugly or old. Nai wasn't going to argue with 'bastard,' though. "And he said yooou," here Dulio wagged a scolding finger, "had been an evil little dragon today and you didn't drink your soup. And he said weee," an expansive gesture, "weren't gonna set a single foot inside the infirmary until you were a good little boy and ate up all your supper. And this one, this one," he gave Oranges a little shove, "comes over all calm, like, and he says," Dulio applied tones of great patience and refinement, "'You don't understand the situation, here. Allow me to explain . . .

"'There are four of us, and only one of you. We are young and small and very quick. We wish to pass, and we will pass. The only question is whether you want us polite, and quiet, and orderly, or if you want us kicking and screaming and upsetting all the chairs and tables. Even if you get two of us, one in each hand, that's still two more making havoc that you'll have to clean.'

"And the nurse tries to look all high-and-mighty, only he can't because he's so butt-ugly, and he goes, 'Oh, yeah? Well, there's more of us, here. If you make a racket, they'll come on the run, and when I catch you, I'll beat your little gold hide.'

"And this one, here," another shove, but a friendly one, "this one says, 'That scares me, mister, I'm real delicate. One good pop in the muzzle and I'll bleed all over everything.'" Dulio threw his head back and laughed. "Shit fire an' save matches! Nurse took one look 'round at all that white bedding an' let us in. Can you believe it?"

Nirez smiled thinly, though ordinarily this would be a case for high hilarity. It was a good story, and he'd like to have it again when he felt a little less like a crapstain on a crumpled tissue.

Oranges crept up beside the bed, head tilted in an appraising manner. "Pretty bad, huh?" he said, the first thing he'd been _allowed_to say.

"Oh, it's . . . oh . . ." Nirez couldn't lie to those big green eyes. He felt he'd be caught out in an instant. His muzzle twisted into a frown. "They want me to eat and I don't wanna eat, and I'm tired and I can't sleep because it hurts, and they wouldn't give me medicine until I cried and then I almost frowed up all over the place." Frowed up. Oh, no. He hadn't mangled it that badly since he was in baby school. What was it about being hurt that made him act so stupid? He tried to turn away, but Oranges touched his muzzle and turned it back.

"It's okay," the dragon assured him. "One time, in school, my other school, I said I had to go sissy. That was to Teacher."

Nai snickered a bit. He still felt pretty dumb, but at least he hadn't been dumb in front of people. Dulio might rag him a little, but he thought the rosier gold might only remember the bit about 'going sissy.' Pee was funnier than puke. A story involving_poo_, of course, would be remembered and cherished always.

The orange-color dragon touched his muzzle again and stroked it gently. "Those guys said you were hurting pretty bad, and they thought you'd like to go away for a little bit more. Is that all right with you?"

"Oh, yes," Nai said, nodding. "I'd like to . . . I'd . . ." Gosh, it was awful nice being petted like that. He stilled his head so the dragon could do it more.

"Oo, I wanna see!" Rial said, scrambling over. Nai didn't much notice.

The red-gold smiled at him. Didn't look away. Didn't blink. "You're good at this, aren't you? You know how to look deep."

Nirez gave a faint little smile in response. He guessed that was a good way to put it. You couldn't just look at the bright gold's eyes, you had to look into them. That was where all the nice things were. Deep in. The dragon touched his shoulder, stroked his arm (his okay arm) and his chest. That was even better than just being pet on the muzzle. He wondered why the dragon didn't do that always. It made him feel good all over. He wanted to say so, but he thought he was starting to go a little and he didn't want to mess it up.

"That's good, Nai. Go deep. Every time you breathe out, go down a little deeper. That's it. Slowly. Breathe. Let go. Let it all go. Sleep . . ."

Nirez gave a faint sigh as he sank back against the mattress, utterly limp. He was smiling vaguely. He looked like he was having the best dream of his life. Oranges didn't let up petting him just yet, and Nai seemed to enjoy it. He sure didn't stop smiling.

"Wow," said Ree. "I almost went to sleep." He turned to the others, "I really almost did, you guys. He talks so soft."

Oranges snickered and went shh at him. The little silver certainly didn't talk soft. "Nai," said the bright gold, "you can hear me, and talk to me. It won't bring you back. And it's just as nice as anything."

"Nice," the copper echoed. He liked that word. He liked anything to do with that word.

"Is there anything you'd like especially to do, now that it doesn't hurt anymore? Anything nice?"

"Oh, sleep," Nai said fondly. "For-real sleep. I'm awful tired."

Oranges regarded the others. They seemed liable to go along with him, whatever he did. That whole business about not wanting to eat bothered him. If you didn't eat, how were you supposed to get any better? You had to have new stuff to make the new bits, that was simple logic. "Do you think you could eat something?" he offered as an alternative.

Nai squirmed on the mattress and tried to come up a little. He _wanted_to say yes, but he still remembered that bowl of cold cereal. "Have to?" he asked.

Oranges saw the reaction and gave in immediately. "Uh-uh, you don't have to. It's okay." Getting him to eat was one thing, a good thing. Making him throw up would be quite another. If he got in trouble with these dragons they were going to beat the living crap out of him. "You can sleep, Nai. For-real sleep. But you'll be hungry when you wake up, okay?"

Nirez accepted this compromise with a nod. He didn't mind doing anything after he woke up, that would be forever-later. The dragon--the dragon's voice--talked him to sleep, defined a comfortable little space for him and led him down to it. Tucked him in and made him safe and comfy, too. He had half an urge to request a story, but he was much too sleepy. Everything was getting very far, pleasantly far. He was falling away. When the voice left him, too, he didn't mind it. He didn't even notice.

---

"Can we talk, now?" the silver said, very soft.

Oranges gave a nod. "Yeah, he's out. You could shake him, like," he made a frantic gesture with both hands. "That'd do it. But talking's okay."

Rial looked down at the sleeping body, suppressing an incredible urge to poke it. Nai was still smiling. Ree wanted to wake him and ask him how come. "I guess we better leave him alone, though."

"I guess we better, curious one," Bela said, taking the silver by both shoulders and guiding him away.

"It's better to talk where we can shout at each other anyways," Dulio opined, already too loud. They weren't even out of the room yet. "How in the hell do you do that?" he asked the orange-gold. "What is it? Is there a name for it?"

"Nnno," said the dragon, considering. "I don't think so. I just kinda figured it out. People would ask me to do it. They said it felt good."

"Does it?" Ree asked.

A shrug. "I dunno. I can't do it to me."

"What about, like, in a mirror?" Dulio said.

"Uh-uh. I tried, one time, an' I fell asleep in the sink . . ."

"Couldn't you have told him to eat something?" Bela broke in. "I mean, we could've brought something, if the healers wouldn't give out."

"I could've," Oranges hedged. "He didn't want to, though, and I was scared he'd puke."

"Couldn't you say 'Don't puke'?" Ree said.

"Yeeahh . . . But what if he had to, you know?"

They all paused for a moment and thought about that, frowning.

"Good call," Bela said.

The orange-gold gave another shrug.

"What if," Dulio said, giggling, "what if, what if you said something crazy? What if, instead of 'it doesn't hurt,' you said, like . . ." He lowered his voice to a spooky whisper and fanned his fingers on either side of his face, making mystical eye beams. "'You aaare a jaaam doooughnuuut!' What if you said that? Would that work?"

"Work?" said the dragon. "Uhh, I dunno. How would you tell? I mean, a jam doughnut doesn't do much . . ."

"Could you do it to me?" Ree interrupted. "I mean, nothing with doughnuts, just make me go away like that?"

The orange-gold stepped forward and peered into the silver's eyes. "Maaaybe I could . . . I guess I could try later, if you wanted."

Rial gave an eager nod.

Bela overrode any audible response the little silver might have been considering, "Hey, what the hell is your real name? We can't just keep calling you Oranges."

"Someone will try to use a tin opener on you," Dulio added with an evil grin.

"Oh," said the orange dragon. "Anatole."

"That's an L name," Rial said knowingly. "I got an L name, too. Mine's Rial."

"It's an E name, actually," Anatole said.

Rial tried to envision this in writing. "Oh, yeah. 'Tole. Long O." They were all supposed to learn the old tongue, at least to read it if not to speak it, but young dragons rarely absorbed more than the meanings of their own names--and all the cusswords, of course.

"Bela," said Bela, extending a hand.

"Belacio," Ree added, with sweeping gestures. That was handsome, but with a superlative on it, which added up to most awesomest handsomest ever. Those swirly blue scales had made quite an impression on the nurse who named him.

"Mine's Dulio," the rosy-gold said, before anyone else could say it for him.

Anatole gave a shocked little snort. "What?"

"Dulio," said Dulio. "D-U-L-I, damn it. Means ardent."Dulio, the name, was entirely too close to dulceo, which was one of those old words that still got used. It was a term of endearment, an irritating, babyish term of endearment. You might as well call him Sweetie Pie.

The orange-gold smiled, but he managed suppress a laugh. "Ah. Okay."

"S'not funny," Dulio muttered, eyes cast aside. He brightened and looked up, "Hey, now if you wanna hear something funny . . ."

They had been stopped for some minutes now, in the long hallway that led to the infirmary. Ciero had just come out of a doorway and almost ran into the whole lot of them.

The tall bronze swore and backed up a pace. His eyes were wide and terrified and he swung his head from side to side, wanting to bolt. He had, in one hand, a small, white, crumpled rose. He looked down at it with startled shame and then hid it behind his back.

"Ciero?" Ree said. "Is that a flower?"

The bronze took it out again and turned it in his hands. "It's tissue," he said, which was not precisely a denial.

Rial felt all his animosity dry up in the back of his throat. He swallowed it, audibly. A paper flower. They all knew how to make them. It was a baby game, something they were taught as soon as they had the dexterity to twist a piece of wire. Whenever the nurses or the baby teacher wanted a moment's peace and quiet, they'd give you a roll of toilet paper and some scrap wire and say, "Here. Make flowers." Gosh, what an awful, pathetic thing to do.

Ciero frowned at the silver's sympathetic expression and hid the flower away again.

Dulio was not so easily pacified. He took a step forward and demanded of the bronze, "Did you say sorry to Nai last night?"

Ciero twitched a little, considering that. He hadn't really, but maybe Nai said he had. Or maybe Dulio was asking him just to see if he'd lie, and if he did lie, they'd all shout at him, and hurt him . . . But maybe if he said he didn't say sorry, they'd shout at him, too.

"Yeah," he said at last. "I didn't think he'd remember. He was real screwed up."

Dulio accepted this with a nod. "He said you were nice to him."

Ciero shrugged, studying his toes on the floor. "I dunno. I just gave him his blanket, that's all."

Dulio was quite willing to put an end to it there. Bela was not. He shoved the rosy-gold aside and pointed a finger. "You're stupid, you know that?"

Ciero accepted that with a nod. He did not rankle, nor did he react otherwise. 'Stupid,' had been the least of the terms he had applied to himself over the last twenty four hours. He would have nodded to a lot worse.

Bela stood silent for a moment, mouth open, finger still pointed. He couldn't escalate this to a richly-deserved beating if Ciero was just going to roll over and play dead after "you're stupid." The others weren't backing him anymore, either. Left to his own devices, he couldn't even make it so far as "and you're a psycho." It just seemed . . . Excessive. Like smashing an ant with a hammer.

And there was that stupid paper flower. That was too pitiful. Bela couldn't punch a dragon holding a paper flower, no matter how stupid that dragon had been.

"Well, you don't do that again," the blue-gold said lamely. A little fire returned to his voice, "Ever."

"I won't," Ciero said softly, head bowed.

"Yeah, well . . ." Bela fumbled for more words. "We just got him to sleep, just now. Nai. He was tired. So you better not wake him up."

"Won't," the bronze muttered. "Just wanna see him." He looked up. "Is he any better? Did he talk normal and stuff?"

The four others considered it, shrugged and nodded. "He talked okay," Ree said. "I think maybe he wanted to cry 'cos it hurt, but he didn't talk wrong. Didn't he talk normal to you?"

Ciero shook his muzzle. "But he was real tired and stuff." He hoped the others would not ask him to elaborate. Just thinking about it made his throat ache.

Anatole spoke up, "He had a shot, for the pain. Maybe that was it."

"Yeah, he said . . ." Ciero said. He paused a moment and reflected. "You guys? Who is this?"

"Anatole," Ree said. "With an E."

"Isn't Anatole with an A?" Ciero said. He was bad enough at maths. Would spelling turn on him, too?

"Two of 'em," Anatole said, showing fingers.

Aanatole? Ciero thought, mystified.

"He can do this really weird thing!" Dulio said. "It's really cool. Nai was screaming, and he came up, and he kept saying, 'it doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt,' and Nai stopped screaming and went to sleep. He said he'd try to do it to Ree, later, so you can see."

"Uh, okay," Ciero said. "Later." He clutched the tissue rose against his chest. "I just . . . I gotta . . . You know. I'll just leave it. I won't wake him." He gestured helplessly, "I can't be walking around with this stupid thing." He pushed past them and made desperately for Nai. He was glad they didn't hate him, or hurt him, but he wanted so badly for this to be over. Maybe they wanted that, too, because they didn't try to stop him.

"You wanna go hang out by the dining hall?" Rial asked of the remaining dragons, Anatole included.

"Not especially," Bela hedged.

"Oh, yeah," said Ree.

"That's a really dumb place for some stairs," Anatole opined, to the agreement of all.

Dulio unfurled his wings and stretched theatrically. "Aw, I was bored of that old place, anyways. We need a new place."

"How about here?" said Anatole.

They considered it. Spacious, yes, and far enough away from the infirmary that they wouldn't get yelled at for being loud. No steps to sit on, but at the moment the wide, level expanse of floor seemed much an advantage.

"Betcha get wounded dragons coming down this hall," Ree noted with morbid delight. "All bloody, and guts hangin' out."

"Ooh," said Bela. They were all interested in blood and guts hangin' out, Nai's unfortunate injury aside.

"We could play handball right there," Dulio added, indicating a likely spot.

"Yeah," said Bela. He leaned experimentally against the wall, shifted his wings and made himself comfortable. "After a bit."

"I bet I can spit farther than you," Rial said to Anatole.

It was after school, and about two hours before evening meal, a good time for doing nothing.

---

Nirez woke lazily in the evening hours, yawned and itched. The rough plaster on his arm was scratchy and uncomfortable. The pain was kinda better, though. When he reached to the side table for a sip of water, he found a paper rose sitting there, coiled, in his cup. He plucked it out with an eager grin. Yes! Physical proof! Now they'd _have_to believe him when he said Ciero had been, and that he had been sorry. That would smooth things over just perfectly.

He straightened the wire and hid the rose under his blanket, in case the nurses were inclined to steal it from him.

When they brought him a tray, he drank every last bit of his soup, then he begged until he got some cheese and crackers, and then a cookie.

Everything, he decided, crunching, was going to be okay.

*A Note from the Author: * Hi, new readers, and anyone who has read before. I have a website now. This is a sample. Everything on the website is free, too, though. There is more from The Bound Ones, and also some more from these guys here. I am sorry to have been gone so long. Some stuff happened, and I am really not in love with the interface here (not for long stuff like I come out with, anyways). I hope you like these and will come looking for more.