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The litter was heavy, his back ached, and the rope was cutting into his hands. What he wouldn't have given for a cart, just one cart, a simple one with four wheels like a peddler might drive. He wouldn't even ask for an ox or a donkey. He wouldn't mind pulling, if there were wheels to ease the load. But a Pythian army traveled fast and light, with no more than the soldiers could heft in their packs. So here they were, wounded, stranded, with nothing better than stone age technology to help them along.

Bela said something, a few words spoken vaguely.

"What?" said Nirez, but there was no need for his partner to repeat himself. The dragon was down on all fours now, being sick, so that must've been it. Nai dropped the rope and called out to the other teams, "Ho!"

Replies came quickly, and with a certain amount of relief: "Ho!" "Ho!" The call to get moving might be met with reluctance from the exhausted, panic from those who were not yet ready, or impatience from those who already were, but they were always grateful to stop.

Bela was bringing up a goodly amount of half-digested pork and beans, last night's meal. Nirez took a few paces away and crouched down, elbows on his thighs, feeling rather sick himself. His stomach turned over once but did not move otherwise, and after a few moments his head cleared and he was able to go back and check on the blue-gold.

Bela was curled up on one side, nose in his mess, eyes glazed and unseeing. Nirez hauled him into a seated position and tried to clean his muzzle. "Bela? Hey. Wake up. Look at me. Are you okay? You know where you are?" This was a stupid question. Nai didn't know where they were, but his brief medical training had drilled it into his head as an appropriate one to ask. "What's your name?" This also felt like a stupid question, Nai had known Bela's name nearly as long as his own, but it was one the dragon ought to be able to answer.

He didn't, though. He just blinked a little, never quite managing to focus. Whatever had hit him must have hit really hard. God bless his thick skull; the blow hadn't cracked it, hadn't even knocked him out, just rendered him dizzy and slightly stupid. It was worse when he was tired. He shouldn't have had to pull the litter, he should have been lying on it, but there were hardly any of them left who could walk, let alone pull. Bela could pull, so he had to.

He was done for right now, though, Nai decided. "Okay, you need to lie down for a little. No, not that way. This way." He managed to get the dragon turned so he wasn't_right_ in the puddle, and that would have to do. He was too heavy to be carried. Nai lifted his head and called out: "Ree, come here and sit by." While the little silver made his way over, limping and leaning heavily on a sturdy branch, Nai gave orders to the rest: "Cam and Dulio, get the canteens and give water . . ." They were both ambulatory, in fairly good shape, they didn't need much rest. "Ciero, get in the air. If there's water you can reach, come back for the canteens and fill them. . ." He was a flyer, swift and agile, once you got him off the ground. He had one arm in a sling but it was better today, and not bad enough to stop him flying. "Fio, I want my kit . . ." There were four dragons on the litter and they all needed care. "Oziel . . ." A refugee from another squad. He was here because Baz was here, on the litter, and because he could pull. He had been pulling, though, before Nai and Bela took their turn, and he was exhausted. "Sit," the copper told him, and he did, with a grateful sigh.

Rial had finally made it over and Nai put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You sit, too."

"It's just a sprain," the silver replied. It was not a sprain, his ankle was broken and he damn well knew it, but the instant you even implied it he would dig in his heels and insist otherwise.

Nirez didn't have the strength for another argument, not now. "I don't care. I just want someone to watch Bela, and I know he'll talk to you."

"Is all that pork and beans?" Rial said, settling well away from it. Nai gave a little nod. The silver breathed a low whistle of admiration.

"Let him sleep," said Nai, "he needs it. But if he wakes up, try to get him oriented. Get him to talk. Ask his name, ask if he knows where he is or what's going on. Nothing complicated, just try to get him back with us."

Ree nodded to that and Nai left him when Fio stumbled over with his kit. It was not that heavy but they were all very tired; Nirez couldn't manage it himself, when he was pulling.

He clicked it open and had a brief look at the supplies. They had divided the med kits proportionately, between all three groups, but they were tending to different injuries and tended to run out of different things. He was going to need more fever medicine for Ana, soon. He was also low on sedative, but they were all low on that, and everything else that might be used to dull pain, even the cough syrup.

There were sixteen in the first group, including six on their litter, which took three to pull. The real medic was with them. Ideally, you would get one healer to every squad, a medic or even a doctor, but one to a regiment was more common, that being four squads of ten dragons each. Nirez had volunteered to take the basic training, bored with the standard drills and in vague hope of proving his worth to the others. He was not terribly good at it. He was not going to make it past medic, and he wasn't even close at the moment. There were eleven dragons with him, four on the litter. The last group, and the smallest, was only five: two on the litter and one pulling. They hadn't a clue, no one with any medical training at all. The real medic had given one of them a kit, basically at random, and if they needed help, they had to shout for it.

Nirez gazed into the bag. It all looked so neat and helpful and professional. Everything sorted and labeled and held secure. Dark bottles, paper packets, gauze and linen, needles and thread. Use us! they cried. Save lives! Heal wounds! End pain!

I do not know what I'm doing,_the copper dragon thought. _I am stupid. I am clumsy, and someone is going to die because of me. He thought it with no real panic, no emotion at all. He was used to it. He thought it every time he opened the bag.

He took a breath, clicked the clasp shut again, and approached the litter to tend to the wounded.

They were moaning. They were almost always moaning, but Nai could block it out, most times--for sanity's sake. Merced was outright weeping, though, so Nai went to him first.

The dark bronze was the oldest of them. A transfer, brought in to lend some experience to the core group of Nai and his five best friends, newly minted cadets. He technically outranked them, but he had little care for military discipline, far more interested in instilling discipline of the mind. Silence was his credo, not dumb silence, but attentive silence that listened and remembered. Merced was silence incarnate, and if he was crying, it was bad.

Blunt force trauma, Nai's teacher would have called it. Not a crushing blow, and certainly not being beaten half to death. Never say death in front of the wounded. It gives them ideas.

Nai hadn't said death or dying or anything like that for three days now.

Merced was felled by a series of heavy blows that broke his shield and shattered the bone in his arm. The dragons who attacked them had been a small, nomadic tribe, with simple weapons of bronze and iron: short spears, bastard swords and wicked little knives with a triangular blade that turned out to be poisoned. A dull mattock had done most of the damage to Merced: broken arm, ribs and collarbone; shallow, tearing punctures; and maybe worse damage deep inside. The medic had bandaged the wounds and set the arm, but he had no idea what to do with something as outre as a collarbone. Nai had never had anything to do with bones, so he was no help. All he could do was give medicine for the pain.

He tore open one of the paper packets and set a clear capsule between the dragon's teeth. "Bite," the copper told him. He waited there and held Merced's hand until the sedative took effect. The dark bronze didn't sleep--couldn't, really--but he did stop crying and that was all Nai had wanted. A mild effect was best, better than no effect at all if the medicine ran out before they made it home. Restraint, even cruelty, was required.

It hurt, though. God, it hurt having to be such a bastard about everything. And there was nothing for that pain at all. He felt selfish even thinking of it.

Cam followed up behind him and gave water, which Merced wanted badly. Blood is water. The wounded dehydrate immediately. Stop the bleeding, first, but then give water. Even if there's nothing else, give water.

"All right, old beast. Don't choke yourself, now." The yellow-gold spoke easily, smiling even. Cam was only a couple years older than Nai himself, but he seemed ages more experienced and composed. He had done his first few years in the 3rd, but some earlier disaster like this one had facilitated building new squads from the scraps left behind. Cam had joined up with the six of them at the same time as Merced. He had been older than them, but not old or stern like the dark bronze, and with just enough experience to make him arrogant, not yet wise or introspective. Young Nirez had decided the dragon was quite severely cool, and he had followed him along like a second tail, making a conscious effort to imitate him in motion and expression. The copper was older now, and not quite so inclined to hero worship, but he still thought Cam was quite severely cool.

Of course, Cam seemed to know he was quite severely cool, much cooler than Nirez, which was maybe why they weren't as close friends as they might have been.

He was all right giving water, though. Even if he teased, he made no withholding and he showed no pride. If someone happened to throw up or mess on him, it made no change to his demeanor. "Hell," he'd say. "It's all right. Shit washes off." Yeah, he knew he was cool.

Nai moved on to Ortice. He was done drinking, and Dulio was just getting him settled again before going back to Baz. They always gave seconds; thirds, even, if there was time. Ortice was semi-conscious. Sometimes he was able to converse, but he didn't seem up to it at the moment. He sketched a vague gesture, though, a bit of flight-sign; thumb and forefinger together, other fingers spread and touched to the chest. I'm okay.

Yeah, bullshit you're okay, Nai thought. If you're okay, get up and pull. Ortice had this really fucking awful thing going on, where when he took a breath, part of his chest went in instead of out, and when he let the air out, then it would pop back up while the rest of his chest caved in. Like he was a spoiled tin of meat and someone was squeezing him. God, that looked like it had to hurt. He was banged up and bloody, his sword arm lined with multiple rows of stitches (he'd managed to keep hold of his shield, one of a few lucky ones, and that side of him was only bruised), but he was on the litter because of that thing with his chest. It was hard enough for him to breathe, it would be impossible to walk, but as long as he kept breathing, he would probably make it home all right. Nirez gave him some cough syrup on general purposes. In quantity, it took the edge off pain, and God knew Ortice didn't want to be coughing now.

Oziel had stumbled over and was trying to negotiate use of the canteen. Dulio was understandably reluctant. Oz was trembling, on the verge of a physical collapse. If he tried to hold anything, he was just going to drop it. Nai should have caught him and told him to stop pulling, but he had been partnered with Fio, and Fio was strong enough to keep the litter going with only a little help. Nai hadn't noticed anything wrong until Oz was about ready to pass out. There was nothing broken in him, that they knew of, but he had lost a lot of blood, rendering his light scales dull and his limp crest parchment pale. The only thing dark on him was the bruised patches under his eyes. He looked so awful, Dulio couldn't even think of something ridiculous to say to him.

"No, no. That's all right. I've got it. You, uh, you go on and sit. It's okay."

Nirez heaved a small sigh. If someone needs to help, let them. Even if there's nothing they can do._ Find something. _In his mind, he saw it double underlined and in red ink. His teacher had been very firm on that point. There was almost always something that needed doing, and a task could be a mercy to a worried dragon. But Nai was not feeling terribly creative and the pale bronze really was not fit for any work. The 'prentice healer decided to fudge things a bit. "Oz, you come here and help me with him. Dulio can manage the water. You sit by and hold his hand. Let him know you're here." It wasn't much, but maybe if he called it helping, the dragon would go along.

Oziel gave an eager nod and scrambled over. He had only wanted some excuse to be next to Bazilo, it seemed. They were either very good friends or there was something else between them that was not entirely proper. Nai suspected the latter, but maybe that was just his own experience clouding his judgment. If Oziel would sit and hold the dragon's hand, then he would have to sit still, and he might be rested enough to go on when they had to. God only knew what they'd do with him if he couldn't walk anymore. There was no room on the litters. (The real medic had been after him to leave Ana behind since the very beginning, but Nai was not going to do that. Ever.)

Bazilo was awake after drinking, and he took Oziel's hand in a possessive clutch that was as much panic as affection. This was Baz's last battle, whether he survived it or not. The marauding dragons had effectively blinded him, one eye was totally gone, the other too damaged and painful to be used. It might heal enough to give him some vision, or it might not. Nai wasn't clever enough to tell, he just kept it bandaged and clean and tried to manage the pain. Baz didn't complain much. He didn't want help. He didn't want care. He didn't want people looking at him. He would take Oziel, though, and if you watched them you could tell he wanted him badly.

"I know he's here," the silver-green said. "I can hear, still, can't I?" He was trying to sit up and Nirez really wished he wouldn't do that. Damn it, that gash on his forehead had finally started to heal and he was going to open it up again. He opened his mouth to say so, but Oziel came forward and did all the work for him. He took the dragon's hand, put his other hand on his shoulder and spoke calming nonsense about patience and kindness and caution and told him that if he opened his Goddamn fool head up again--

"--I will fucking kill you myself, you understand me?"

"All right, nursemaid, don't nag me," Baz said, but he was smiling when he said it, and he had settled back.

"You want anything besides the water?" Nai asked him. He'd already ruled out a sedative. Baz was able to speak and move and he'd stop if you told him to, so he wasn't going to hurt himself.

"Hell," said the silver-green. "I'll take some of that Goddamned cough syrup, if you still have some. Just in case we don't stop again for a while."

There was one good thing about Baz's pathological hatred of attention: he was afraid of crying. He was more afraid of crying than he was of asking for medicine and he would ask for just enough to prevent that, which was exactly how much Nirez wanted to give. "You just like the taste of it," he said, giving a dose. He got up again to see to Ana, but he caught Oziel's eye as he did so and pointed down. Stay, he mouthed carefully.

Oz nodded, all silent.

Don't let him up, Nai added. This was a little more difficult to get across, but he felt sure Oz had the basic idea, even without being told.

Nai sat beside Ana, took his hand and touched his cheek. The fever remained, a low, constant heat. "Hey, Ana. How is it? You awake?" The red-gold twisted and fought a little, but he did not come up all the way. There was a damp cloth laid across his brow, but it was hardly cool anymore. Nai took his own canteen and freshened it. That brought him up a little more. "C'mon, Ana. C'mon, honey. I know you're there."

He didn't open his eyes, but he spoke softly, "So hot."

Nirez cracked a smile. It was bad, but at least he could still wake up, at least he could still speak. He even made a little sense. "Yeah, I know. I have medicine. I'm gonna sit you up a little bit . . ." It was only a few inches, Nai just slipped an arm beneath his head to be sure he wouldn't choke, but it hurt him terribly and he cried out like a wounded dog.

Dulio, nearby, flinched and dropped his canteen. Even Cam looked away.

Nai would have given anything not to be doing this, but he didn't falter and he didn't stop. He smiled. "Okay. That's okay now. You're all right." Ana needed some time to settle, he was breathing too hard, gasping. Nai did not want him to choke. Above all else, he did not want Ana coughing. Such a spasm would rack his body and bring another gout of blood from his side. It might also split or burst some organ that the blade had only nicked, and that might be enough to kill him.

"Okay, that's better. Now you can drink. Ana?" Shit. Gone again. "Ana, I have medicine and I need you to drink . . . Ana! Goddammit, open your mouth!" That, he did. Nai was giving him the fever medicine straight out of the bottle, at this point. About a quarter would do him, more than that and Nai risked running out. He'd be miserable by the time they stopped again, anyway. There wasn't enough in the kit to really repair him. Nai gave him some sedative, too. Small mercy. He had some painkiller, some really good painkiller, but only a little. Three vials of morphia and a syringe. He was hoarding it. At the pace they were going, they were still days away from home. There might come a time when Ana's pain was worse than this. There might come a time when Merced's tears would not be stopped with a sedative alone.

They were just about out of cough syrup. That stuff in the paper packets was weak, and if he had to rely on it entirely it wouldn't last for long. Maybe the morphia could be divided up and stretched with a little help from the other stuff in the kit. He'd have to ask the real medic what he thought about that.

He let Ana back down on the litter, slowly and carefully. The dragon hardly stirred. Nai didn't know whether to be relieved or worried about that.

Ciero had gone off with some canteens to refill, and he wasn't back yet, so Nirez had a little time to look over the others. Cam was all right, still bleeding in a few places, but only slightly, and his smaller injuries were starting to heal. Dulio, on the other hand--

"Dulio, you need stitches," Nai told him. Again.

"Bullshit!" said Dulio, happily. He slipped the stained bandage back up over his shoulder and tugged it tight. "It's stopped bleeding, hasn't it? I told you it would."

"Yes, but it's not going to _heal_without stitches. It's too deep . . ."

"It will, too. I'll just have a bitchin' scar." The rosy-gold made an evil grin. "You're_just jealous. No one's going to look twice at _you when we get home."

Nai self-consciously touched his own few injuries. He did not care for any bitchin' scars. The wounds that needed it were neatly stitched, and the ones he could reach he had done himself, as soon as he could. There had been pain--a delicate, maddening tugging and pulling that he did not wish to experience again--but an improperly-treated wound might open more or get infected and take him totally out of commission. They couldn't afford to lose his skill, inept and tiny as it was. He didn't want to lose Dulio, either, especially not the dragon's ability to pull. If he screwed up his arm, that was it, he'd have to follow them in the back with Ciero, and he wasn't even a fast flyer.

You couldn't tell him that, though. You couldn't tell him anything, he'd just laugh at you. Nai didn't know if Dulio was afraid of the pain or if Nai's admitted incompetence was making him antsy. Maybe he was just being an asshole. At times like this, Nai was leaning towards asshole. He was still going on.

"--I suppose Baz will have a better one. He'll have an eye patch, and a big, twisty slash peeking out behind. That's the best scar, but he's not our squad, and anyway, he might get a glass eye. That's what I'd do, only a green one so they don't match, or all black . . ."

"Ana will have one," Nai said softly.

"What, a glass eye?" cried Dulio, faintly hysterical.

"Yes! A glass eye!" Nirez turned away from him, disgusted. "Why don't you and Bazilo work out what sort he ought to have? He thinks you're funny."

Baz had been smiling, now he dipped his muzzle like a scolded child. "Only slightly," he said.

Nai didn't want to deal with either of them. Oziel needed looking at, but he was sitting there between the two. Bela was sleeping, with Rial busy watching him, and Ree did not react well to attention. Just to be doing something, Nirez went over to Fio.

Fio didn't need much, not physically. He'd done the clever thing, when they were attacked he ran and hid. Nai had to wonder if they wouldn't be in much better shape if they'd all had the sense to do that. There had been nothing to win, not slaves nor land and certainly not prestige. If they'd _all_turned tail, maybe the nomads would have let them alone. But together, as a regiment, they were all too experienced. They never thought about fighting anymore, they just did it, and when it was done they didn't think about it either. Fio was young, the youngest of their squad. He thought about it a lot. So far as Nai could tell, he was the only one who thought at all.

He was still thinking, though. That wasn't so good. He was ashamed of himself. He was desperate to help, to make up for it all, and he pulled like an ox. In quieter moments, like this one, he seemed incredibly depressed. Nai sat beside him and cinched a wing around his shoulders.

"Hey. Thanks for carrying my kit."

The young gold gave a little shrug. "I could take your pack, too, if you'd let me."

"You're kind of supposed to be resting up, when you're not pulling," Nai reminded him. "You know, so you can go again when we need." He considered his own small hurts, the ache in his back and the growing welts on his palms. "Hey, Fio, let me see your hands."

Fio winced and held them away, but at last he displayed them, knowing Nai wouldn't very well leave him alone now.

"Aw, geez . . . Fio!" His hands were blistered and raw, not yet bleeding but wet with pus. His_wrists_ were red and weeping, because he'd been wrapping the rough hemp around them to spare his palms. Nai delved into his kit and went right for the antiseptic. He used up the rest of his canteen washing the dragon's hands then bound them in strips of linen. "You are done for today," the copper said. "You might be done for the whole trip!"

"I can pull," the gold said weakly. "It just hurts, is all."

"No."

"I could tie the rope around my waist, or . . . like a harness . . ."

Nirez was horrified by the thought of such welts and blisters, not just on Fio's hands but over his entire body. "No."

"I can pull," said Fio, looking down.

"You can carry packs," Nai told him. "Go to Oziel and take his now. And you'll carry for whoever's pulling, so they can pull longer. If we have to, if we absolutely_have_ to, we'll get something together so you can pull without your hands. That's it. That's all."

Fio bobbed his muzzle, he already had his feet. "Thanks, Nai."

The copper was much slower rising, feeling ages older. He did not deign to reply, having no strength for it. Not yet mid-morning and they were already down one dragon, the strongest of them. It did not bode well for the rest of the day. He went to Ree and Bela, hoping for some good news. Bela was sitting up. He looked more focused.

The blue-gold sketched a small salute. "My name is Bela," he said. "This is my third day in hell. I don't know where in fuck I am, but I'd like very much to go home now,please."

Nirez let slip a laugh and he covered it with a hand to keep it from getting out of control. "Okay-okay. We're just waiting on Ciero and the water, I guess. And me." He reached into his kit. "Ree? Medicine."

Rial didn't want medicine, but the little white pills Nai was giving him weren't much good, so it was kind of a compromise. Dulio had mostly shut up, so Nai was able to get a look at Oziel. He wasn't any worse, at least, and maybe a little better. Nai encouraged him to drink and, after some consideration, gave him a mild stimulant. Hell, he was young enough, his heart could take it. What they couldn't take was dragging another unconscious dragon around. By then Ciero was back with the water and Nirez was tasked with dishing out a few drops of iodine to each canteen. He took one aside for special and dissolved some sulfa powder inside. He'd use that for washing Baz's eyes, Ana's wound and Ciero's arm, until he ran out, then he'd wait for a fresh canteen to make more. Ciero's arm was going to have to wait until they stopped again. They'd taken enough time already.

"We need another team to pull," Nai informed the group wearily.

"I'll have a go," said Dulio. "I'm all right."

Nirez put a hand to his head. The rosy-gold seemed strong enough, but there were other issues with Dulio. In acid tones, Nai asked the others, "Anyone here want to partner with the Mouth that Walked?" Dulio snickered a little, Nai didn't. He didn't say it to be funny.

Cam lifted a hand and smiled. "I'll put up with him a while, I guess. I don't mind."

"Thanks," said Nai, and he very much meant it.

They had called the stop, it was their responsibility to call a start. When Cam picked up his rope, he cupped a hand to his muzzle and sang out in fine voice, "Yo-oh!" Always two syllables, the second on a lower note, so it wouldn't be mistaken over a distance.

The first group echoed readily enough: "Yo-oh!" but from the last there came a shriek, "Wait! Wait! Wait!" so panicked that they couldn't remember the proper call for aid.

"Oh, shit," said Nirez. He hefted a sigh. "Sit. Everyone, sit. Rest. Eat, if you can. I have to go." The real medic was already on his way, but that urgent scream demanded the both of them. The medic was running. Nai ran, too.

---

When he came back later, he came back slowly, dragging his tail. So tired. From the sun, it wasn't even noon yet, and all he wanted to do was curl up under his blanket and sleep, and hide.

"Leto's gone," he told the others.

He did not say "Leto died," and above all else he did not describe how.

He had died hard, clutching and shuddering, with eyes rolled up to whites and staring blindly at the sky. There was nothing they could do for him. In the end, they just dragged him off the litter and on to the ground, so he wouldn't injure Taliendo with his thrashing. Tal never woke, could not wake, and hadn't since the day of the fight. He was comatose.

The last group had no healer. It wasn't their fault, but they could not be expected to provide real care. The medic had given them Tal and Leto, both of them with head wounds, not bad knocks like Bela's nor simple gashes, but complicated fractures matted with blood. They could be given no care, not even by someone with a doctor's skill. They might live. They might not. All you could do was tend to their other injuries and wait for them to wake up or die.

In a different situation, Tal and Leto might have warranted a mercy kill. But they were unconscious, out of pain, and the medic had decided it would not be mercy, but murder. He had done three others that day--two of them gut-wounded, awake and screaming, another with a shattered window in his skull that showed the gray matter behind--so maybe he had just been sick of killing altogether. That was probably why he let Nai keep Ana. A real doctor would have called them weak and irresponsible, wasting time and resources on Pythians who might die, when there were others who might live. But they didn't need much, and they were hardly any bother.

Now Leto wasn't any bother at all.

The medic had followed Nai back, perhaps in hope of reasoning with him. Nai was in no mood to be reasoned with.

"Damn it, Stitch, don't you start with me." They called him Stitch. His real name was Anastacio, but Stitch obviously suggested itself. They couldn't very well call him Ana, they already had one of those. Stubbornly. Still.

"If you'd put him off," the medic said, "the others could join up with us now. It would be better for them."

Nai turned on him with a snarl, wanting to hurt him, "If you'd put Tal off, they could have joined up with us, too!"

"Tal isn't suffering," Stitch said, so gently that Nirez could not meet his gaze, ashamed.

Bela came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder and he was able to look up again. "Hey, lay off him," the blue-gold said. "We said we'd carry him, didn't we? And we have been. We haven't asked you for a bit of help!" Dulio had come up, beside Bela, and Ciero was on his way over. Even Ree was glaring at the medic with open hostility.

Stitch hung his muzzle low, submissive pose, exhausted, too. "I thought it would be better, is all. I'm sorry. I can't make you."

"That's right," Bela said, voice low and dangerous.

Stitch approached the litter. They allowed him, but Ciero rumbled a stern warning. He touched Ana's brow and peeled back one corner of the bandage to have a look at the wound. Ana cried out and Ciero had to be restrained from having their medic's head off.

"That needs another dressing," Stitch said. "It's soaked through. Do it now. Call another stop, if you have to."

Nirez knelt beside him and delved into his kit, coming out with linen and gauze.

"There are some plants you can use, if you run out. If I see some, I'll show you."

"Thank you, Stitch," said Nai.

The dragon just gave a shrug. He left them with slow steps, head hanging. Nai guessed maybe he knew how he felt. Not sad, not helpless, not anything. Just tired.

The others helped him, and they got the bandage changed quickly. Ana had to be held down. Weak though he was, he could not stand to be touched there. Nai was burying the bloody bandage in the dirt when the last group, only four of them now, called a start.

"Yo-oh!" It was shouted, not sung, and the voice cracked on the second syllable.

"Yo-oh!" Dulio replied for them. He took up the ropes on one side of the litter. Cam took the others. Nai wondered if they were blistering, too. Maybe harnesses weren't such a bad idea. They might be necessary soon.

The copper kicked the rest of the dirt into the hole. They were not being followed, the battle had routed both sides, but animals might come. It was more superstition than sense. They buried bandages, but whole dragons were left out to rot. The living needed care, even their blood should be respected. The dead, well, there was no point, was there? The dead were trash, only bodies left behind. Leto, whatever he had been, was gone. He wasn't the first, and he wouldn't be the last. There would be room for Tal on one of the litters, soon. Or Tal himself might die, and be discarded.

It was not yet twelve o'clock on a warm, spring day. The moon was waxing, almost full. They would have eight or ten more hours light enough to drag, and stop, and drag again. Nai took up his kit and followed with the rest.

---

They stopped in the late evening, long before moonset. One of Stitch's, delirious, had begun to struggle and thrash, and refused to be stilled. They couldn't drug him and they couldn't hold him down; he was big, and he thought he was fighting for his life. Eventually Stitch gave him a shot of the morphia, because there was no other way to give him anything. That shut him up, but he'd torn all his stitches and they were hours piecing him together again. By then, Stitch and Nirez were too exhausted to go on.

Stitch gave out the call before he sent Nai back to care for his own people, "Lay by!"

"Lay by!" came the replies, plus a smattering of applause from Nai's group. It had to be Cam and Dulio. They were the only ones with enough energy to be such unrepentant assholes.

The group of them had begun to settle as the likelihood that they might start off again grew less and less. No fires had been lit, but this was more out of politeness than utility. If they did get going again, fires had to be doused and kicked out, and no one wanted to be the dragon who delayed them. Blankets and even some bedrolls had been unpacked, and dragons were sitting and eating cold food. Bela had an open tin of something and was pasting it on biscuits. Now that the call had been given, fires would soon be lit, and someone would get a hot meal started. Beans and something was the usual. After that morning, Bela probably wouldn't want any of those. Nai certainly didn't.

Nirez checked the litter first. Ortice and Merced were sleeping and he let them. Baz was awake and gasping rapid, painful breaths. Oziel claimed the 'prentice healer's arm and dragged him over. Oz's eyes were huge and terrified, reflecting the scant light.

Tapetum lucidum, Nai thought deliriously, and couldn't remember how he knew that.

"I don't . . . want . . . him!" said Baz.

"No, but Oz seems to, so let's compromise." Nai had knelt and was already checking the silver-green's bandages. The light was bad, but he might catch the scent of infection. Otherwise he was going to have to wait until there was some firelight to work by, and Oz didn't look like he could stand that.

"Not there . . . you . . .fool!"

"Oh," said Nai. Yeah. Of course. He lifted the bandage around the dragon's eyes. Baz hissed at him but managed not to bite or claw him. One eye was gone, the socket gnarled and clotting. The other was bloody red, dilated and unseeing. The flesh around it was red and feverish, irritated and sore. It looked worse.

"He was itching," said Oz, unable to contain himself. "I shouldn't have let him--"

"You didn't claw it, did you?" Nai demanded of Baz.

"No! I--"

"All right." It didn't matter if he did or didn't, not as to treatment. Nai uncorked his canteen and poured a long stream of doctored water over Baz's eyes. The silver-green relaxed immediately and he breathed a grateful sigh.

"Don't do that," Nai said. "It itches because it's healing. Let it."

"It burns," Baz said softly. "It's like ants." He tried to dry his eyes with the back of one hand and Nirez stopped him with an irritated tsk.

"I will bind your hands if I have to," said the copper.

Baz flinched back from him, horrified at the thought.

Nai replaced the bandage and tied it tight. "Sedative," he said. "I'm not doing this again tonight. I want to sleep." He gave Baz two, to be sure. That ought to have him out well into the morning, and then Nai would ask Stitch about what to do for the itching. Maybe there was something topical, he still wasn't sure what half of these medicines were.

Oziel, with nothing better to do, tucked Baz in fussily, down to his toes.

The silver-green twitched a little. "Oz, how am I supposed to move?"

"You're not," the bronze replied.

Nai left them to each other, they would probably be all right. He cast his eyes heavenward and made a small prayer, God, let everybody be all right. Let me sleep tonight so I can help them tomorrow. He crept over to Ana's side. The red-gold's eyes were open, but that didn't always mean awake, not now, not with any of them on the litters. He stroked the dragon's cheek; he got a blink and Ana refocused on him.

"Hi, honey. Does it hurt?" Stupid question. Stupid, and he let it fall by the wayside. "Can you drink?" Ana was getting medicine whether he could drink or not, and Nai opened his kit.

"Wh-where are we?" said Ana.

Oh. Great. That. Nirez brought his muzzle up to look, but that was no help. "Um, I'm not sure, exactly. We've come a ways."

"I wanna go home," said Ana, voice breaking.

Oh. Oh, no. It seemed it didn't matter much what Nai had answered, Ana wasn't quite with him. Nai sat forward and dried his eyes, ready to hold him down if he needed it. "It's okay, honey. We're going home. We're going home, remember?"

The red-gold nodded vaguely but could make no other reply.

"Okay. We'll be home soon, I promise."

"Tomorrow?"

Nai winced in real, physical pain. His heart hurt. He shut his eyes and forced the emotion back down. It didn't matter. Ana would never remember, anyway. "Yeah. Tomorrow. First thing, okay?"

Ana nodded again. He settled, and he took medicine when Nai gave it. Drank water, too. Nai tucked a blanket around him. He was still feverish, but Stitch said that was fighting the infection, so it was sort of good that he was running a fever. Stitch said not to make him fight the cold off, too.

Nai thought he was already sleeping, but before the copper could move on, he spoke, "I-I want my mom."

Nai's mouth fell open. He didn't know how to respond to that at all. He couldn't just leave. Finally he managed, "Okay."

Ana sighed. Slept.

Nirez wandered off with no real direction, staggered. His mother? Why would he want her? And with such weird familiarity? Nai had never known his own mother, no Pythian really did. It was just a name noted down in the records. If he ever happened to merit access to the females, someone might pull him aside and say, "Hey, don't fuck her." They all grew up together. There were nurses and teachers, skilled people who did nothing more than care for them, not parents. The very idea seemed so . . . so primitive. Brutal. Having parents . . . Wouldn't you be lonely? What would they do with you when they didn't want you? Who could you go to if they were bad? Above all else, why would you_want_ a mother?

Maybe she's dead, Nai thought, and that gave him a start. His head came up, eyes wide and vacant. Calling The Dead. Even Pythians who weren't healers knew about that. It was bad luck to do it on purpose. If the wounded did it, it meant they courted death itself. Not that they would die, but that they wanted to, which was often much the same.

He shut his eyes and shook his head. It was superstition, nonsense.

But, that didn't make it untrue.

He went to Ciero. He didn't know where in hell he was, but he wandered around the camp, increasingly upset, until he found the tall bronze at the outskirts, crouched beside a fire of his own.

Everything else fell away, and Nai smiled. "Ciero," he said. Then he had no idea what to say, or what to do. He wasn't going to tell the dragon he thought Ana was dying, was he? He didn't think that, did he?

"Ciero . . ." he said, fumbling. "I . . ." What? Nothing? There had to be something. "Let me see your arm," he said. "You've been ducking me all day." It might not have been on purpose. Nai's attention was so divided that you wouldn't get any if you didn't ask for it, or at least start screaming.

The tall bronze heaved a sigh. He stood and began to undo the knot that bound the sling against his chest. Nai caught his hand and helped him, really doing it for him, and the knot that made the sling, too. Ciero was built for flying, but not for anything else. On the ground he was scrunched and awkward, all angles and elbows, and he would twitch or snap with little provocation. He was apt to do himself an injury, or someone else, even under the best of circumstances. If not with the awkwardness in his body, then with the sharpness of his tongue.

Now he was tired, subdued and still. He held his arm stiffly against his body, nervous without the support of the sling. Nai unwound the bandage carefully, not all of it, just enough to expose a few inches of the incision. They had cut Ciero with one of those fucking triangular blades, the poisoned ones, and it showed.

The blades were not meant for slashing, they were made to stab. Ciero had avoided such a wound, and Nai was certain it was by luck alone. Their flyer found hand-to-hand combat especially difficult. He did not have the rhythm of it, the counterpoint of dodge, slash and shield. He didn't even have a shield, just a hide-covered wooden buckler, like all the flyers carried. A real shield was too much of a hindrance in the air. Pythian logic, cold and merciless, said that flyers, aerobatic, should be able to dodge. Apparently most of them were, or else the carnage would've wrought some change in policy. Nai often thought Ciero might do much better with a length of hardwood the size of a door. He could hide behind it, and then, if someone wasn't looking, come out and whack them over the head with it. He'd be sure to hit something, with a slab that big, and his strength was never an issue.

He was strong, at least. That was good, Nai guessed, but strength alone wouldn't pull him through this.

The dragons who had been stabbed by those poisoned blades were dead, both of them, back at the site of the battle. They were dead when Stitch found them, so it must have come on fast--the battle hadn't been that long. Even if they'd lived a little longer, there was nothing to be done for them. A triangular wound was merciless. Evil. You couldn't stitch it up and a bandage alone was no good. That alone would've killed them.

Ciero had been lucky, but not terribly lucky. The cut had festered and pulled back from the stitches like a snarl. His entire arm ached and swelled and could not be jostled without intolerable pain. The first day, he had barely been able to walk. He had been feverish and distracted and he wanted no care. Even washing the wound, which had to be done, hurt terribly. Knowing nothing but the pain, Ciero had lashed out at him; a couple of blows had landed. One had needed stitching, and Nai did that himself, with a strange, furtive shame. He didn't want anyone to think Ciero had hurt him, because he wouldn't do that. Not on purpose. Not really.

This morning, for the first time, Nai had found him cool to the touch, and he had found a little hope. Over the rest of the day, he had forgotten about that. Now he remembered and he smiled to find it again.

Though the firelight painted the wound in angry reds and yellows, the snarl was beginning to draw shut, in some places the lips of the incision even touched. The swelling was down, too; the bandage was loose, and Ciero's hand and fingers, where it had been most obvious, seemed almost normal. Nai could see the bump of the wrist and the joints of each digit again.

"Can you move it?" Nai asked him. "Just a little. Try."

Ciero clenched his teeth and hissed in anticipation, but he did try; reluctantly at first, then with quiet amazement. He had almost full motion in his wrist and fingers, and he even budged the elbow a bit, though he could hardly stand it. Nai stopped him and steadied him, washed the wound and bound it up quickly. Ciero sat with a thump, dizzy and panting pain. He was flushed from the exertion but he was not feverish and Nai was overjoyed.

"You're gonna be okay," he said.

"Hooray," said Ciero, flatly.

Nirez felt his smile shrivel, ashamed. It was not right to be smiling. Ana was dying, in pain. Merced might be dying, too. They were miles away from home and any one of them might die before they made it. They were vulnerable to attack and would not survive another opportunistic assault like the last. They had already lost a dragon from their own squad--Jiacinto, called Jee for brevity, _Golly Jee_for clarity. Jee had been with them from the start, another transfer, and he had helped them through that awful thing with Nace. He earned himself a beating that way and helped the squad earn their sobriquet, the one that stuck.

Now he was gone, felled by one of the same blades that had wounded Ciero.

It was not right to be smiling, but . . . He felt a little better. That was allowed, wasn't it? Appropriate?

By the same token, he scolded Ciero, "Well, you don't have to be so unhappy about it."

"I'm not unhappy," the tall bronze said. "I'm just . . . I . . . I'm fucking tired, Nai. I'm not anything. I'm numb."

Nirez would have hugged him, but Ciero did not like to be hugged, and now it could only bring pain. "Did you eat?" he asked instead, hands clutched useless against his chest.

Ciero gave a diffident little nod, ashamed now, too. They had been sitting here, talking, eating and resting, for a good three hours, while Nai had been . . . Not.

"It's time to sleep, then," Nai said. The copper helped him with his bedroll, as someone had undoubtedly helped him with the fire. It was not banked terrifically well, but Nai thought it would last them until first light, a few hours hence.

He didn't bring his own bedroll over. He asked first, hesitantly, knowing Ciero would not scruple to hurt him with rejection, "Is it okay if I . . . If I stay here? Just . . . beside you? Just . . . Just a little while?"

Such formalities usually went unobserved. On this hellish trip, there had been more than the usual amount of dragons setting their bedrolls together. Ree and Bela had an implicit arrangement, as long as the blue-gold wasn't too tired. Even Dulio, who tended to abstain on long excursions, had crawled into bed with Cam this night. There was something about sex and death, maybe being so near the one made you cling to the other. If nothing else, a quick fuck was a great reminder that _you_were still alive, and that made it a little easier to get to sleep. Nai had no such inclination himself--just a little warm, comforting contact--and he added, weakly, "Just to sleep?"

Ciero considered for a moment. "Yeah, all right," he said. He curled up in his own bed, on his side, not waiting for Nai. His entire body was gathered up around his wounded arm, protecting it. His wings were furled at his back, and his nose touched the tip of his tail. He was just the dearest thing, tired and hurt. He looked all of four years old.

Nai wanted to touch him, pet his back and the fabric of his wings, but he didn't. He unrolled his mat and set up on Ciero's right, his good side, so he wouldn't jostle the arm if either of them moved while sleeping. He could have lain down facing the bronze, and maybe even put an arm across, to hold him. He didn't. He was too scared, too clumsy, too shy. What if Ciero was sleeping already, and Nai woke him? What if he hurt him?

He curled up on his side, his back to Ciero's back, the wings touching, but only because you couldn't _help_but touch them, lying this way. Just that little bit of contact was enough to make Nai feel flushed and faintly giddy. The wings were so, so delicate. Sensitive. He could feel the thrum of his pulse in the veins, and the radiant heat of Ciero's body, trapped by the blankets. It was heavenly. How fine it would be to feel Ciero's hand there, or the warmth of his muzzle. He was at pains not to demand any more contact than this, though. He kept his tail close against him so that wouldn't touch and seem like a presumption. He shut his eyes and clutched his hands against his chest and tried to be still, tried to stop thinking and sleep.

-Ana's dying.

The thought came unbidden and unasked for, as clearly as if it had been spoken.

Oh, no. No, I am not doing this.

He covered his eyes with a hand and drew the edge of his blanket up over his shoulder.

-Ana's dying, and there's nothing you can do about it. You're making it worse.

No. No. Stop it, you stupid thing. It's late, and it's more walking tomorrow, and I have to sleep! He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut all the tighter. _Stop it, now. Just stop it. Go to sleep._His determination earned him only a few moments of peace.

-His mother is dead and he called her to take him . . . away from all this pain. Away from you_._

Oh, Goddammit.

The copper dragon sat up, his blanket puddling at his waist, then at his feet as he drew his knees to his chest. He needed the sleep. It would only be a few hours and he needed them badly. This was so fucking stupid. Why couldn't he just_shut it off_ like the others did?

Ciero stirred beside him, rolled on to his back and then sat up as well. "Nai? Wha's happen . . . ?"

Nirez flinched and apologized, "Oh, I didn't mean to wake you."

"'Sn't sleepin'." He had been snoring. "Time?"

"Late. Go back to sleep."

The tall bronze seemed to understand that Nai required something more from him. Nai always seemed to need a lot more out of him than he needed from Nai. He had been made aware of this some time ago but he still didn't know quite what to do about it. Most often he did something stupid or hurtful, and he was always afraid he would find some way to shut this tenuous relationship down altogether and never get anything out of Nai ever again. Ciero did need some things. Acceptance. Love.

He extended his undamaged arm and put one hesitant hand on the copper's shoulder, took it away and then put it back again.

Nai felt ridiculous, but also strangely touched. He wondered if the bronze thought that was _patting_him. He gave a quiet snicker, reached up and covered Ciero's hand with his own. "Okay."

Ciero took his hand away and put it back under his blanket. He shifted his wings, looking down.

Nai shifted so he was facing Ciero entirely and took the bronze's hand in both of his. Ciero looked up, sighed and shifted again, now more confused than chagrined. Nai gave him a little nuzzle. "It's okay. I'll be okay."

"You don't look okay."

Nai shrugged. "Ana . . ." He didn't know how he was going to finish that and wasn't even sure if he should. "Ana said something funny."

Ciero snorted. "I bet he's said a lot of things funny. Yesterday he wanted ice cream, Bela said."

"No. I know, but . . . I mean, that made a little sense. He's hot, and he doesn't really understand what's happening now. This didn't make any sense, and it bothers me. I can't stop thinking of it." He shook his muzzle. "I can't stop thinking at all."

"Hell was it?"

"He said, 'I want my mom.'"

Ciero considered that for a moment, maybe even with a little concern, but a moment later it was gone and he dismissed the copper with a toss of his head. "You must've heard wrong." He took his hand away and curled up again, trying to arrange himself under his blanket.

"What else could it be?" Nai demanded of him, helpless.

Ciero turned back towards him with an irritated huff, as if it didn't matter. When he saw Nai's expression, saw that it very much did matter, he shut his eyes and tried to come up with an answer. "Dog. He said 'I want my dog.' Now go to sleep, you little fool."

"Dog?" said Nirez. Well, that could be. Ana hadn't come to their fortress until his fourth year of primary school, a good time to transfer if you intended to take cadet training and your old home didn't offer it. He could have had a dog, might have shared it with the other boys or even been allowed to keep one all his own. Hell, he could have had two or three dogs, in all that time. Nai could see wanting an old, beloved dog. Dogs were nice. 3rd Regiment had a dog. Buttons or Mittens or some damn thing. He knew 'fetch.' And if you pretended to fire a crossbow at him, he'd roll over and pretend to be dead.

Of course, given canine lifespan, Ana's dog was probably dead now, too.

Nai pressed his palms to his eyes and rubbed until bright abstracts blossomed on the inside of the lids. "Oh, Ciero, I'm so damn tired."

"Go to sleep," Ciero reminded him and gave his wing a tug.

Nai curled on his side and pulled his blanket up over his shoulder, same side, same position, and expecting nothing but the same thoughts. Ciero turned towards him and unfolded a wing, slipping it carefully between the dragon and his blanket, disturbing but one. The copper flushed warm, brought both hands to his muzzle and bit his nails. Oh, no. Oh . . . Oh, no. I'll never sleep now. I couldn't!

But, as he lay there, frozen in terror of disturbing Ciero or hurting his arm, moment by moment his mind quieted and he found himself drifting away.

Dog, thought Nai. Huh. That must've been it . . .

---

He dreamed, not badly, but in fragments. He was dreaming, as dawn broke over the horizon, that Ana had given him an orange, cold and porous like a stone, but soft and real and once alive. Not like the tinned segments they usually had, cooked into submission and sick with syrup. He could smell it, feel the spray of its moisture over his hands, hear the muted crunch of the peel as he tore it away. He was just about to bite when Fio shook him awake and nearly shook away the memory, too.

"First light," said the gold.

"Firs' li'," Nirez replied, flinching, and Fio left him to wake the others. Nai sat up. It was a near thing, but he made it and he did not thump back into bed. It was rude to require a second waking. A third, if necessary, entitled you to a backhand and if that didn't wake you, it was time to check for a pulse. He woke Ciero rather more gently, touching his shoulder and giving a warm nuzzle. "First light."

"First light!" the bronze replied automatically. He tried to sit up, but he didn't quite make it. His left hand was his smart hand and it was bound up in a sling. The right's stupidity overbalanced him and sent him on to his back with a thud. Nai helped him up and helped him get his bedroll back together before starting on his own.

When the beds were put away, Nai pawed into his pack for an appropriate (fast and cold) meal. All he was finding, in the faint morning light, was the same tin of chopped chicken over and over and he didn't want that. "Ciero? You got any canned orange?"

"Juice?" asked Ciero, as if he were out of his mind. They'd been out of that after the first day. The wounded loved it, and it seemed to revive the ambulatory ones better than water alone.

"No. Segments."

Ciero had an awkward look in his pack. He had to undo one of the strings with his teeth. "Fruit cocktail?" he offered.

Fruit cocktail had nothing to do with oranges, and it had only a nodding acquaintance with fruit. Nai took it anyway. "Trade you chicken?" He had another look through. "Or tuna?"

Ciero was visibly disgusted at the last. "Just keep it." He slung his pack over his shoulder and went to join the others around the litter.

---

Merced had gone in the night. Quietly, as was his nature. His eyes were open, clouded and dusty-looking, and his lips made a snarl. There was blood around his mouth, as if he'd seen death coming and managed to bite it. Not that it made any difference.

Baz, Ortice and Ana were still sleeping. That was good. If Nai and the others were careful enough, they'd never know how many hours they had slept beside a vacant body. They wouldn't have to think of death, or get comfortable with the thought.

"C'mon, you guys. Don't just stand there. Help me with . . . With what's left of him." It wasn't Merced, not anymore. It just looked like him, that was all. He was gone, and the body was in Taliendo's space on their litter.

Cam and Dulio were the most help. Bela was never much good in the mornings, Ree could hardly walk and Fio had bandaged hands, but they all made an effort. Oziel wasn't their squad, hadn't known the dark bronze as well as the rest of them, and they excluded him almost without thinking of it. They set Merced down gently, beneath the shelter of a tree. He was gone, but it still looked like him, and Nai felt squeamish about just dumping him--it--someplace. No one else made any suggestion that they ought to roll him into a culvert or just shove him aside. No one folded his arms or closed his eyes or made like he was sleeping, either. There were limits. There was respect, and then there was wacko pagan bullshit.

Duty tended, the others wandered back towards the litter, though Cam broke off to tell the third group about moving Tal. Rial paused a moment and unslung his pack. Nai stopped right were he was, saw what he was doing, and grit his teeth. It was stupid, meaningless, but it got up his ass more than Dulio's unstitched wound, more than Fio's blistered hands and even more than the medic's constant insinuations about Ana.

Rial had a little book of homilies. Not prayers or parables, just short and pretty words to live by. He treated it with no great respect, and when he took it out now, he made no attempt to read any. He flipped to the back cover and the blank pages there, then he took a stub of charcoal pencil and scratched another notation with childish care.

Nai had already closed the distance between them. Now he snatched the book from the silver's hands and held it away. "You don't have to write it down, you fool! It's all in the records. It's all back home. As soon as we get there, they'll_know_."

Ree stowed his pencil in a convenient pocket and demanded his book with both hands open. "I want to know," he said.

Nai tore open the book and folded it backward so the spine crackled. On the last page, a comprehensive list was scrawled. Jiacinto was first. Merced was last, and somewhat smudged. There was room for lots more. Ree could move on to the back cover, if he needed. "Of course you know!" cried Nirez. "You just got through dragging him off the litter, didn't you? Even Bela knows, and he's fucked in the head!"

"Give it back, Nirez."

Nai threw it at him and stalked away, not turning to see if Ree caught it or had to go after it.

I should've torn it up. Next time, I will. I swear to God, I will.

Dulio caught him by the shoulder and impeded his progress. "And where are we off to, small, pink and handsome?" Nai was a copper-green, not that reddish shade they called pink, but pink was nice and insulting and it snapped Nai around like a kinder word wouldn't have. He turned, wanted to shout, and could only find the energy for a sigh. Sparring with Dulio was pointless at best, and too much noise for five o'clock in the morning, dark, cold and sepulchral with another dragon dead.

"Noplace," Nai said. He glared back at Ree and spoke with blatant hostility, "He knows I hate that. He's doing it just to piss me off."

"Yes, because we all know that's the important thing," Dulio replied with a smile. He went on, more seriously, "Nai, he's doing it because . . . it's something. We can't all be useful, you know. We can't all be you."

"Me?" cried the copper. "I can't do anything. I can't fix anything. I can't do shit!"

"Think what it's like for him, then. He can't even pull."

Nai looked over at Rial again. He was sitting next to Bela with an open tin, trying to keep the blue-gold focused long enough to eat. Nirez turned back to Dulio with an acid frown, "Let me stitch your shoulder."

"Fuck you," Dulio replied. His smile showed clenched teeth. He tightened the stained linen around his shoulder, slung his pack over the other one and walked off to take his morning meal with more pleasant company.

Nirez sat alone and considered his tin of fruit. He didn't want it. He'd missed his supper, though, and if he didn't eat something he was probably going to pass out. And Rial would scrawl his name in that blasted book, just to be sure. He found his knife in its holster and began to hack at the soldered lid. The blade had a hooked tip that could be used to puncture a lid and, used repeatedly, was meant to remove one. Nobody had enough patience for that. The tin gave out after several blows and spattered thin syrup all over his hands. Rather than get his entire pack sticky looking for a utensil, he upended the can and drank from it, chewing as necessary. Fruit cocktail didn't require much.

Fio minced over to him while he was eating, looking both hesitant and ashamed--but curiously pleased with himself. "Hey, Nai. Hey. Look." He held, in his bandaged hands, a rope harness. It was really badly made, frayed and knotted and held together in places only by a few errant strands. He was right to look ashamed of it. It might serve, though, if someone more agile took a minute to shore it up. Nai probably could have done it himself, if he really wanted to. He licked his hands, getting most of the sugar, and had a closer look.

"Fio-mi-adoro," Nai said. Fiodoro, the proper name, meant something like Goldflower or_Golden Flame_. Entirely too precious, even as it was. With a little alteration, it became Fio, My Darling! or Light of My Life!, and Nai and the rest of the squad were never going to let Fio forget it. "Did we sleep at all last night?"

"Some," said Fio, happily lying. "Enough. I can pull today, can't I? If it holds?"

"I think maybe you'd better let me have it for a little bit, or get someone else to see to these knots." Nirez tugged at one that was particularly ragged. It held. "Did you tie this with your teeth?"

The gold shrugged. "But, I can pull, can't I?"

"We'll see, okay? Just let me . . . Oh, hell. There's Cam with the others." They'd brought the litter with them, with Tal on it. Evidently there had been no miraculous recovery over the night. Nai gave the harness back. "Take this to Ree, he must be done with Bela, by now. He can fix it. I've got to see to this."

---

Tal's eyes were open wide and staring.

"Shit!" cried Nirez, recoiling. For a moment he thought they had brought him a corpse.

"Creepy as all hell, isn't it?" Cam put in. "They said he's like that sometimes."

"Stitch said he's not awake." Nadio, a pure copper, came forward and demonstrated. "He doesn't follow anything, see?"

"Noise doesn't get him, either," Selez, a silver-blue, added. He blew a sharp whistle of the sort they used to call each other's attention in the air. Tal didn't even blink. While they were watching him, his eyes closed again, slowly.

"Yes, thank you," Nai replied.Thank you for showing me how screwed he is. Shall I get the blade out now, or shall we continue to pretend he can get better?

Nai shook his head, suppressing the thought. It wasn't like that. Dragons did get better. The body could handle a lot. Their medic held that the mind retained an incredible capacity to heal itself; a dragon might show improvement weeks or even months after such an injury, might even be almost normal again. Or, he might wake up shattered and never get better, never be able to speak or respond or even feed himself. You might wish the medic had done a mercy kill when he had the chance.

Nai had never done a mercy kill. There was a blade in each kit, honed sharp and used for nothing else. They came in a little leather case with a whetstone, so they would stay sharp, and so you wouldn't slice off your fingers fumbling around in the bag in the dark. They all knew where the blades were, everyone knew how to use them (unlike the rest of the supplies in the kit) but nobody wanted to. The job usually fell to the medics, because you could point at them and go, There! He knows what he's doing. He'll know if this one is suffering. He'll know if he can get better or not. Even if knowing was just a matter of common sense. Nai's training had hardly begun. No one had imposed upon him to make the decision yet. Stitch said Tal might get better, and Nai was willing to believe it, especially if it meant not having to make the decision himself.

"I don't suppose you can get him to walk at all?" Nai asked. His three new team mates shook their heads. "Okay. Let's get him closer, then."

---

Nirez bent over the bag, gloating. He put a hand in and ran his fingers through, feeling a multitude of little paper packets. Mine. All mine.

They'd gotten into the bandages, of course, and they'd been into the paper packets, but those were all single dose measures of those pathetic little white pills and there were a lot of them. Stitch had lost two dragons last night, one on the litter and one off, but it made no matter. Cam had gone over first, so Nai got Tal and his three little friends and all their medicine, including two more doses of morphia. Now he had almost as much as Stitch, and fewer dragons to look after. Even if they didn't need the medicine, they would be in a splendid position to trade. Oh, Stitch. That big guy is gonna need more painkiller, and I'm gonna take all your fever medicine if you want it.

I am a horrible, horrible person,_Nai thought, with only a faint twinge of regret. These dragons with him were _his squad (most of them), his friends, and he couldn't bring himself to give a good God-damn about any of the others. He would lie, cheat and steal for them, and if that meant more death in the real medic's group, then so be it. He knew the others, knew their names, their likes and personalities. They were his regiment, and he knew them all, but he would fuck over every last one of them if he had to. If it came right down to the wire, he would fuck over everyone except Ana and Ciero, and maybe not even Ciero, because he was doing better today. The tall bronze could take care of his own damn self.

I am a horrible person, Nai thought, resigned to it now.

He clicked the bag shut and slung it across his shoulder with the other. Cam and Nadio were pulling this morning (_Ha! I have three more dragons who can pull, now, too!)_so Nirez had to shift his own weight for a while. An extra kit was quite a welcome encumbrance.

Nai gave his litter and its new arrangement a cursory check. Ana was out. Bazilo was out. Tal was beyond out, but at least his eyes were closed. Ortice had awakened and was looking around, to the extent that he was able without lifting his head. He caught the fabric of Nai's wing as he passed.

"What's . . . ?" His voice was always soft, his breathing shallow. It hurt. "Where . . . ?"

"It's first light," the copper replied. "We're going. I can give you a little medicine if you need, but it has to be fast. Do you think you can wait until we stop again?"

Ortice pawed at the comatose dragon on the litter beside him, Taliendo. "Merced?" he asked.

Oh. Nai had forgot all about him. That seemed like days ago. "Gone," he answered simply. "This is Tal."

Ortice gave a little nod. There was no point in asking more. Every breath was an effort and there was nothing he wanted to know that badly. "Tired," he said, by way of apology.

"Sleep," said Nai, and he yawned himself. Even the word made him tired.

Bela stumbled up beside him and almost fell on top of him. "Nai?" he said, peering through the dim light.

"Yeah?" said Nai.

"We still here?"

"Yeah. We're going now."

Bela looked around them, as if seeing it all for the first time, seeing the cold and the dark and the wounded and their situation in general. "Fuck!" he said.

"Yeah," said Nai.

Stitch's group called a start. Nadio answered it. There was no third echo now. They walked, leaving the third litter empty and abandoned behind. Leaving Merced, and Diavo, and Niedo, too. More names in Ree's book.

---

It rained. It was spring, with cold mornings and strong winds that blew the clouds in fast, and it rained. Mercifully, or perhaps not-so-mercifully, no one called a stop for a good four hours. Dragons unpacked their bedrolls on the move and held them upside-down above their heads, the oilcloth making some small protection. Those who had a free moment shook the extras over the dragons on the litter, covering them entirely. Better to be suffocating and warm than wet and cold, even if it left them looking like a pile of dead bodies, with faces covered in pagan style.

During some nocturnal crisis, Oziel had decided he was dreaming, perhaps delirious or even insane. He was remarkably cheerful at the prospect, confiding to the others that simply no one would believe him when he woke up. They would laugh at him, he said, or maybe pat him on the head in a pitying way and say, There-there. There-there. It's over now. When it started to rain he turned his palms up to the sky and laughed, "Of course!"

Nai let him be. He was happy, quiet mostly, and he didn't refuse care or otherwise act stupidly, which was more than Nai could say for the others. The copper even tried on Oz's idea for himself, but he couldn't commit to the fantasy. If I was dreaming, his conscious mind insisted, I wouldn't be so_tired._

Dulio was being a fucking nuisance. He wouldn't let Oz be, he wouldn't let anything be. He thought the pale bronze was hilarious. Whenever he got bored, which seemed to happen in five-minute cycles, he would fire off some manner of philosophical question. Brilliant things like, "Hey! Oz! Are you dreaming me or am I dreaming you?"

"I'm dreaming you," Oz replied placidly. "Of course."

"Okay, so what happens to me when you wake up?"

"You're not really there. You'll go away. Poof! Like smoke."

"Oh, God, let it be so," said Cam. He had been pulling since first light. He was hurting and he was_pissed_, but he wasn't going to call a stop, not before Nadio. He'd rather fall and be trampled.

"Oh, gosh!" cried Dulio in mock horror. "Then I don't want to wake you!"

"Then shut up!" said Cam.

He did. For about five minutes.

Cam won, in the end. Nadio called a stop. Nadio called a stop because Cam fell, snarling and swearing and clutching at a muscle spasm in his back.

"Oh, fuck!" said the yellow-gold, tears in his eyes. "Oh, fuck me! Oh, fuck!"

"Lie still!" Nai demanded of him. "Stop kicking me, you stupid bastard! Don't curl up like that! Lie still!" Nai had to physically force him into a better position--back flat, knees up and wings out--and then sit on him to keep him that way. "It's gonna let go," he promised. "Just wait now, damn it, it's gonna let go."

It did let go, and when Nai was sure of it, he let go.

Cam was still, remarkably still.

"Nai," he said, "I don't think I can get up."

"Don't," the copper told him, irritated. "Give it a rest, for God's sake, will you? I've got the others to tend to, you don't have to get up now." He ripped open two paper packets, put the contents in Cam's hand and opened his canteen for him. "Chew these. Yeah, that's bitter," he admitted to Cam's wounded expression. "Makes 'em work faster. Drink your water. Now, listen, when I'm done with the others, I'll come back and help you so you don't bitch it up any more. So just wait," he pointed each word with a finger. "Don't move until then."

"What if I can't--"

"Let's worry about that when we come to it, shall we?" Cam had brought his muzzle up and Nai shoved it back down. "Stay, dammit!"

Cam breathed a little laugh, and when Nai left him, he stayed.

---

There were some trees here, evergreens with sparse branches and skinny needles. They weren't enough to stop the rain, only to slow and collect it into large, icy drops. The dragons arranged themselves under them anyway, because . . . Nirez had to stop and think about this. There was no reason. Maybe it was hardwired: if it was raining and there were trees, you stood under them, at least until it thundered. And there was little chance of that with these early, spring rains.

Nai chose Dulio and Fio to help him shift the bedrolls and get a look at the wounded on the litter. You couldn't even hear them under all that cloth, and they needed looking at, even if it was going to get them soaked.

Baz was still too soupy to tell if he was going to start clawing his eye out again. Nai gave him back to Oziel, who was conveniently near. The pale bronze might have been dreaming, but he accepted the responsibility with seriousness and quietude. It was a very realistic dream, after all, and he couldn't ever allow Bazlio to come to any harm.

Tal was no better, and no worse. He didn't react to a loud sound, and his eyes were closed, so there was no way for Nai to test if he was tracking motion (not that Nai had any idea why he ought to be testing that, but Stitch had evidently done so before).

Ortice gasped a ragged breath when his bedroll was peeled back and cried out from the motion of his ribs. He looked dreadful, practically blue, and he kept gasping in spite of the pain. No one, Nai included, had given a thought to the _weight_of the bedrolls, and Ortice was in a fine condition to feel it.

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry!" cried Nirez, hands to his mouth. "Oh, my God, Dulio, let Ana out. Quick!"

Ana came up clawing and gasping, like a builder escaping a cave-in. He sat forward, despite Dulio's best effort to prevent that, clutched a hand to his bandaged side and then began to weep.

Nai felt pulled in two directions at once, and for a moment he couldn't do anything at all. "Oh, God. Oh . . . Oh, God. Oh, crap. Oh, crap on burnt toast. Oh . . ." He finally chose Ana. He would've liked to tell himself that he had done the math, that with lightning-quick intellect he had deduced that the thing that was harming Ortice had been withdrawn, whereas Ana was still hurting himself, but he really chose Ana because . . . It was Ana. That was all.

He wrapped both arms around the fiery-gold at shoulder-height and began to pull him down. "No, Ana. No, no, Ana . . . Lie back. Lie back. It won't hurt so much if you lie back . . ."

"Dark!" the dragon cried out, voice breaking. It hardly sounded like a word at all, just more pain.

"No. No, it's not dark. It's just a bedroll. I'm sorry. It's just a bedroll. Look. See it? It's raining . . . It's just raining, that's all, and I'm stupid. I'm sorry." Ana hardly knew where they were, or what was happening. To wake up in suffocating darkness like that, he must have felt he was being buried alive. "It's all right. It's not dark. I'm here. Lie back, now. Just . . ."

Ana had been relaxing into his embrace, now he tensed again and coughed, only once but very hard, more like a bark than a cough. A fine mist of blood flew from his muzzle. Nai almost dropped him on the ground.

Oh, God, no. He's hurt inside . . .

Nai had known that before, but not the extent. He wasn't hurt in the mouth, or in the throat. That was blood from the lungs.

He's hurt inside like Merced. He'll drown in his own blood.

He wanted to cry.

Instead, he shouted. "Quit it, Ana!Just fucking quit it! Don't you cough anymore, you hear me? You fucking breathe!"

Ana breathed. Nai held him upright for a long while, and still he breathed.

"Fio," the copper said at length. "Where's my kit?"

"You've got it, Nai," the gold replied.

Nirez shifted experimentally. "Well, I can't get it." His arms were full of dragon. "Dulio, take him from me, will you?"

The rosy-gold was staring, dazed. There was blood on his muzzle. Ana's.

"Dulio!"

The dragon blinked as if waking. "What?"

Nai lifted Ana slightly, offering him. Dulio came around and took him with great care. Nai delved into the kit and came out with . . . practically everything. He gave Ana cough syrup, sedative (two kinds), fever medicine. He checked the bandages, tied them tighter and added more. He considered the syringe and wanted very badly to use it, but that was only because it was there. Ana didn't need it. He was quiet again and breathing softly, even after Dulio let him back down on the litter. Nai shifted the branches beneath him so that he lay a little more upright, to make it easier for him. After considering a moment, he moved on to Ortice and did the same for him.

"Thanks," the dragon whispered.

"How is it?" Nai asked him. He looked better, had most of his color back--what there was of it, silver with mottled dark spots. Still a little pale, maybe, but that was probably the pain.

"Hurts like fuck," Ortice said, the last word both vehement and hardly audible. "What . . . on me?"

"Bedroll," Nai said. He gave some sedative and measured a generous helping of cough syrup. "Sorry."

Ortice managed a faint smile. "Felt like . . . Bela . . . sitting . . ."

"It was raining," Nai said, considering the cough syrup. He only had one, maybe two helps left of that, if he was stingy. "It was stupid, though. I didn't think."

"Like . . . rain," Ortice said. "S'lighter." His hissed a little, but his expression said it was meant as a laugh.

"Sorry," Nai repeated. He clicked open his new kit, his extra kit, and put a hand in. Cough syrup. Two whole bottles.

Hardly done wanting to cry over Ana, he now found himself with an irrepressible grin. He could've kissed Tal, though that was borderline necrophilia. I hope you live, fella. I sure owe you a favor, if you do.

"The hell was all that noise?" Baz said. He was slurring a little, but he was a lot more awake.

"Blind panic," Nai said. Oziel shot him a pointed glance and, upon reflection, he regretted the choice of words. Baz didn't seem to notice, thankfully. "How's the eye?"

"Sore." He touched the bandage gingerly. "Itches." Oz pulled his hand down before he could rub or scratch, if he were so inclined.

"I'm gonna get Stitch over to take a look. Maybe he knows a better way to help it."

Bazilo gave a little nod. "'Preciate it." By his relieved expression, Oz did, too.

---

Nirez made his way to the farthest edge of their group, back where Cam was lying. Someone had helpfully thrown a bedroll over him, and Cam had dragged a corner of it over his head, to keep the rain out of his eyes.

Pagan dead everywhere, Nai thought absently. We'll be hanging them in the trees, next.

He cupped a hand to his mouth and called out, "Hai! Stitch! Hai!" He'd repeat it in a few moments if there was no reaction, but the medic looked to be getting his shit together, so he had undoubtedly heard. _Hai_was for attention, not aid specifically, but that seemed best in this situation. It brought the dragon over at a reasonable pace, without panic or screaming.

Stitch stopped at Cam, because he was obvious and weird, sprawled out in the open that way, and Nai had to go over to him.

"What's his deal?" the medic said.

"Fucked up my back," the yellow-gold answered for himself, somewhat muffled. He pulled down the bedroll and left it that way, as the sky was clearing. "Resting."

Stitch looked at Nai. "Give him anything for it?"

"Acetyl-analgesic," Nirez replied, because that was exact and Stitch would know what it meant.

"Oh," Stitch said, blinking. "Sali-whaddyacallit or propa-whatsis?"

"I have two kinds?" Nirez cried out, diving into his kit headfirst.

Stitch gave a little snicker, dipped his hand in and drew out two packets. "Look, they're labeled. S and P, like salt and pepper. They work about the same, but you can take both kinds at once if it's bad. They work for pain and fever, too."

"Fever, too?" said Nirez, and he almost fell over.

Stitch lifted a finger and frowned. "Not for Anatole, you hear me? They thin the blood. You'd kill him."

"Oh," Nai said quietly. He nodded.

"So did you give him S or P?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"Ah," said Stitch. They taught medics to say, 'Ah' to practically everything, especially if it was bad. Stitch had another look through Nai's kit and came out with a third packet, labeled 'C.' "Well, let's have some of our friend the codeine, then . . ."

"He has to walk," Nai said. "Won't that make him sleepy?"

"Nah, just give him one. Save the other for when that wears off."

"One?" said Nirez. "But . . . Will that do anything?" In his experience, anything in a paper packet was for shit. Acetyl-analgesic was a shitty painkiller, and codeine had proven to be a shitty sedative. Even four or five at once was not enough to knock a dragon out.

Stitch shrugged. "Kills the pain. Maybe not all of it, but enough to get him up again."

"Is codeine not sedative, then?" the 'prentice healer asked pathetically.

Stitch gave him a cockeyed look. "It's narcotic. It's the same as what's in the cough syrup, Nai. There's other stuff, too, but . . . Didn't you know that?"

Nai looked at the ground. "I said I was stupid. I said I wasn't finished. I said not to give me a kit."

"You're doing okay," Stitch said firmly, as much to himself as to Nai.

"I gave Ana codeine," Nai said. "Is that okay?"

"Yes. You should give him _lots_of codeine. If it were just him, I'd say give him _all_of it, and the morphia, too . . ." He gestured helplessly. "But, we can't play favorites, not when it's this bad."

Nai thought this was a fine time to play favorites, maybe the best time, when it really mattered. "I'm not gonna put him off," he said, so soft he could hardly hear himself.

"I know you're not. It's . . . It's _not_okay, but none of this is okay." Stitch shook his head. "Was there anything else? I mean, that you wanted?"

"Yeah . . . Bazilo is going to claw his other eye out if we can't figure something to keep it from itching."

"Ah. Well, let's have a look at that, then."

---

It wasn't until he was bandaging Baz's eyes again that he realized Stitch had gone off with a packet of S, a packet of P, a jar of numbing salve and Cam's extra codeine tablet. Nai considered the information well-worth the price, anyway. He had a look through his kit and quizzed himself on his new knowledge.

Sali-something . . . Pro . . . Prota-something . . . Acetyl-analgesics. Codeine, not a sedative . . . Narcotics_, not sedatives. Cough syrup_ (which was helpfully labeled Cough Syrup, simple and to the point)with codeine in it. Morphia. Laudanum. Fever medicine . . . Come to think of it, what was that called? He knew it from the color, bright red. The label said: Ethoxy-phenylacetamide.

Good Lord, I'll never remember that, Nai thought. He put the bottle respectfully back in the kit.

"Nai . . ." Ciero touched his shoulder. "D'you have a minute?"

"Oh? Uh-huh," said the copper, getting back to his feet. The med kit, bulging and awkward, went 'clink.' "Is it hurting again? I can fix it better now . . ."

"No," Ciero said. "Just want to show you something. Leave that."

Nai did so, gratefully. Despite his ever-increasing affection for the med kits and the items in them, they were heavy as hell.

Ciero led him a small distance away, into the clearing where Cam lay. It was the higher ground Ciero wanted. He gestured to the jagged horizon, where trees and hillocks were evident through the clearing mist. "There. Do you see it?"

Nai saw . . . Trees. Lots of them. Blurring into more trees. Certainly none of them worthy of note.

"No," said Ciero. "Higher. See the treeline? Okay, now go up from there. You catch it now?"

"It's . . . another tree?" Nirez offered weakly. "A taller tree?" It was little more than a black line, to his eyes.

"That's Lone Pine," Ciero said.

"That's_Lone Pine?" cried Nirez. He had half an urge to get into the air, just so he could get a damn good look at it. Just so he could be_sure.

Lone Pine was the nearest camp, a large, convenient clearing with a tall tree in its center. It was only a day's flight east of the fortress, an _easy_day's flight, meant for Pythian infantry loaded down with full kit. There were no permanent shelters, nor any residents, but they cached firewood there, and there was a well and a water pump. Nai had known they were heading towards it, that they were retracing their steps and that they must hit it eventually, but he hadn't expected to see it like this.

He hadn't expected this strange mixture of relief and anguish, either. They were halfway home. They had taken nearly four days to come nearly one day's flight. That meant four more days. More pain, more walking, more dragging, and more dragons dead. Four more days, when they had lost four more dragons in the last eighteen hours alone!

Ana couldn't last him four more days, not if he was bleeding into his lungs.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Nai said.

"What?" said Ciero, and the copper sat with a thump. Ciero crouched beside him. "Listen, Nai . . . I want to make a try for it. Tomorrow. First light. We'll be nearly there, by then, anyway. I want to try for home. I can get help. Healers, real ones, and strong dragons to pull. They can come on the wing. I'm fast, and I'm hardly hurt at all. I can make it, I know I can! I could have doctors here, tomorrow, before dark."

Nirez was reeling. He could hardly absorb the import of what Ciero said. What, was this_hope_ of some kind? A solution? What was he supposed to do with that? He'd only just found room in his head for all this despair. "Tomorrow?" he said thickly.

"It's, what, twelve hours to Lone Pine? And that's slow dragons with walking breaks and hot meals and grab-assing around. I can do it in six, I'd bet you. I've done it in six. I've even beat Eladio."

Eladio was in the 3rd, another flyer. He and Ciero were always after each other.

"But . . . You're hurt," Nai said slowly. He was only able to take this in small increments. Ciero wouldn't be able to do what he said, Nai was sure of it. Ana would die, and lots more. This was . . . a trick somehow.

Ciero tossed his muzzle. "Feh. It's nothing to do with flying. That sling you made doesn't even bind my wings up."

"You'd be alone," Nai said. "If you were hurt, hurt more, or just too tired, and you_couldn't_ fly anymore, you'd be alone. No one could get help for you. You'd be too far to even get back to us. You could die."

"Oh, don't be stupid. I'm not going to die!"

"You have to take Aracel with you," Nai said. He blinked and shook his muzzle. His head was clearing. Aracel. Yes. That made sense. Aracel was a flyer, the only other who could still fly. Cadiz was on the other litter. Oracio was dead.

"Aracel?" Ciero gave a snort. "Huh. Why?"

"So that it's not just one of you! So if one of you is hurt then the other can go get help!"

"Nai, _he'll_be the one who needs help! He's all fucked up, you know that." Aracel had taken a leg wound, a deep one. He was terribly weak and he could not pull, but he could fly and he had been flying, making runs with empty canteens for Stitch's group. When Nai emphatically reminded Ciero of this, the tall bronze gave another snort. "He'll slow me down," he said.

"Yes," Nai admitted, "but only a little. And I'd rather you be a little slow and a lot more safe. It wouldn't just be help for you, Ciero. If one of you can't go on and the other can, then that's another flyer who can still get help for us."

"I'll _ask_him," Ciero said. "But I'm doing this, Nai. Whether he comes or not."

"I know," said Nirez. "I won't stop you. I want you to go. I'm glad. I'm_grateful_." He pulled the bronze into a tight embrace, a stupid thing to do. Ciero stiffened immediately and Nai let him go. "I just . . . You know. I don't want you to die."

"Oh, for God's sake, Nai. I'm not gonna die. Even if I get grounded, there aren't many things out there that'll mess with a dragon."

"How about another dragon?" Nai said.

"Yeah. Well. Whatever." Ciero shrugged that off. But if he met another dragon--a savage dragon, not a Pythian--they would most surely fight to the death. One look at that crest and they'd know what he was, and they'd_hate_ him, even if he was alone, and hurt, and no threat to anyone at all. And if Ciero met more than one dragon, another group of nomads like the last, that would be the end of Ciero. Aracel, too, probably.

"Two is better," Nai said, assuring himself as well as the bronze. "I know Aracel isn't best, but he's fastest and I know you need to be fast."

Ciero's expression softened, grew concerned. "I do, don't I?" he said. He had decided such for reasons of his own, but if Nai thought so, too, thought so independently, then it really was that bad. Ana really was that bad.

Nirez nodded once, firmly. "Yes."

"Tomorrow morning," Ciero said. "First light. I promise. Back before dark . . . Next morning at the latest, if that asshole passes out on me." He gave Nai a shove. "Look, I'll talk to him, you go back and get the others ready to go. I'd like if we got a bit closer, you know?"

"Yes, I . . ." Nai stumbled a little, trying to get himself pointed in the proper direction. "Yes." He looked back over his shoulder and said it, because he couldn't remember if he'd said it before, "Thanks. Really. Thank you."

Ciero waved him away. "Idiot. Go on!"

---

Nirez collected Cam on the way back. The yellow-gold did not come easily, but once he had his feet he was only a little stiff walking.

"Hey, let's hear it for codeine!" Cam said. Something in him went 'click,' and he winced but that was all. Nai gave him to Fio, told the pure gold to give him a hand if he needed. Not a literal hand, but Fio probably understood that. Cam could hang on to an arm or a shoulder, and if Fio had something obvious to do, maybe he wouldn't keep asking to pull.

At the litter, Baz was sitting up and demanding to be allowed off to pee. "God damn it, that's my shield under there!"

Oz regarded the rough weave of branches beneath the silver-green. "I don't think you're going to want it back anyways," he hedged, but Nai could tell he was losing the fight, and he left them to it. Baz was all right, either way.

Ree was at Ana with a damp cloth, swabbing his muzzle. The red-gold was flinching and he didn't seem to want it but he did not wake. Dulio was standing nearby in an unguarded moment, looking both tired and concerned.

Ree looked up. "Nai, he's so hot. Don't you think it's worse? He's so hot . . ."

Nirez knelt and had a feel of him. "No, Ree. I don't think so." He did think so, but Ree didn't need to hear it. "Anyway, if the fever's spiking, that means it'll break soon, so that's good." That sounded true. Nai didn't know if it was or it wasn't but it sounded true and he said it with conviction.

Rial made a little smile.

Nai tugged on his shoulder. "C'mon, now, let him alone for a little. Let him rest. Ciero's just seen Lone Pine, you know. He's going to make a fly for it tomorrow. We're nearly home!"

---

They walked. For most of them, that was quite enough. For a few, too much. For Nirez, it was just something to do in between pills and syrups and bandages, and shouting and moaning and tears. There were more stops, all of them shorter than the first. Calexto stepped in a divot and twisted his ankle, needed a pressure bandage. Aracel fainted (which did nothing good for Nai's nerves) and had to sit down for a while. Baz started pawing his eye and needed another dose of salve. Oziel bolted his noon meal too quickly and threw it up after an hour's worth of walking. Lucero had a crying fit, which was bad. Ana had a coughing fit, which was worse.

By moonrise, Nai was operating in purely mechanical mode. When someone needed something, he'd do it, and in the between times he just sort of shut off. Glazed expression. A stumbling gait. Long strings of disconnected thoughts that he couldn't remember from one moment to the next.

"You know what'd be nice?" he said, staring at Taliendo with dazed fixation.

"What's that, Nai?" Dulio said.

"To be in a coma. You'd be alive, but you wouldn't have to do anything. They'd be like, 'Hey, that guy's on duty in a half-hour.' 'He's in a coma.' 'Oh. Okay. Never mind.'"

The red-gold gave a little snicker but Nirez made no reply. He couldn't remember that he'd said anything particularly funny.

"Hey, Nai?" Dulio loomed large in the copper-green's hazy vision. "You want a cup of tea? Let's sit down and have a cup of tea. Let's sit down before you fall down, what say?"

"Tea?" said Nirez. He could scarcely remember tea. Everything was all wounds and stitches and blood. He went where Dulio took him and sat when the dragon sat with him. Dulio's hands were on his shoulders, warm, and they kept him relatively upright. Someone relieved him of his pack, and his kit, and the other kit. They made muted, somehow tired thumps on the ground around him. There was a fire here. If there was a fire, that meant they were stopped for the night. Was it moonrise or moonset? He gazed up at the sky distractedly.

Someone gave him a tin cup and he drank. Tea. It was good, hot and strong with a little powdered milk mixed in. That was just how he took it at home. Someone on the other side of him kept handing him little cracker sandwiches of cheese and minced chicken and he ate them because he couldn't come up with anything else to do with them. The fire was warm. The low drone of voices was senseless, soothing. Eventually he dropped his teacup, losing what little remained inside. He knew he had done it but he didn't care. He closed his eyes and leaned his muzzle against the nearest thing. Someone. Some dragon. A shoulder. A wing.

"Nai?" said Dulio. "Love?"

Nirez made a soft sound, and then a sigh. Dulio folded a wing around him. "All right, love," he said gently.

Nai remembered nothing more.

---

"Nai?" A whisper. "Nai? I'm sorry. It's Ana."

Nirez sat up. He was under a blanket. It was cold, out from under the blanket, and he bundled it around him for comfort's sake. "Is he coughing?" Nai said. Rial helped him to his feet.

"No. Talking." The silver shook his muzzle. "But he's not making any sense and he won't stop."

"It's all right, Ree. I'll see to him."

Ana wasn't just talking, he was trying to move, that was the bad part. Bela and Dulio were beside him, trying quietly to reason with him, but they didn't seem to be making much headway. Every time he would twist or kick, Ortice would hiss over at them, "Please!"

"Oh," said Nai. "Oh. Let's have him off, you guys. Okay?"

"But he's--" said Bela.

"I know," said Nai, "but he's hurting himself anyway, and if we don't have him off, he's just going to hurt everyone else. Just . . . Real quick-like. And careful."

Dulio gave them a three-count and all four of them lifted him out and on to the ground. Ana cried out, but he had been crying out, and soon he subsided to a low, feverish mutter.

"Okay, Ana. Okay . . ." Nai said. "Open, now. Open. Ana?" He didn't seem to hear. Ree and Bela helped get his head back and Nai poured medicine in. At first he choked and spat but at last he swallowed and they were able to set him down again. Nai took the blanket from around his shoulders and and tucked it around the struggling gold. That settled him, a little. Nai sat beside him and stroked his muzzle. He was hot. So terribly hot. "Ree? Where's that wet rag you had?"

"Mother . . ." Ana said faintly. He drew a gasp. His right hand clasped at his side and he moaned.

They all stared at him. Nai wouldn't have been surprised if Oz and Baz and Taliendo all woke up and stared, too. There was no mistaking him this time.

"Is he . . . Trying to swear?" said Dulio.

"Mommy," Ana said, very high and thin. ". . . hurts . . ."

"Shh," said Nai. He washed Ana's muzzle, hoping to cool it. "Hush, now, Ana. It's going to be all right. It doesn't matter," he said to the others. "The medicine will have him out, soon," or the fever itself would, but that was knowledge he did not share. The last dragon he had held this way, trembling and on the ground, had died in his arms, and he did not share that either. "Let him talk if he wants to. He doesn't have to make sense."

"Is he gonna be okay?" Rial said.

Of course he isn't gonna be okay! He didn't say it. He shut his eyes and drew a long, slow breath. "He's okay for right now. He'll sleep. You three should sleep, too. I've been, already. I'm done for a little. I'll look after him."

"Nai, are you sure?" said Dulio, leaning near. "We'd be all right for a little bit . . . And we've got tomorrow to lay about all day."

"No, it's all right. You sleep now. You can have him back in the morning, then I'll rest." That was a lie. You can have him back in the morning, then I'll have everyone else to look after, would have been more to the point.

"Okay, but . . . We won't be far. Just over there. You come get us if . . . anything.Anything." You come get us if he's going to die, the rosy-gold's expression said.

"Yeah," said Nirez. Another lie. If Ana was going to leave them now, Nai wanted him to do it quietly, with as little pain as he could manage for all parties concerned.

Ree and Dulio helped Bela, who seemed a trifle dizzy, and they left Nai and the litter for the comfort of the fire.

Nirez spoke softly, answered Ana's painful words. He stroked the dragon's muzzle and his crest and held his hand. He dampened Ana with a cloth and gave him small sips from his canteen. Maybe the fever would break. Maybe it would only lessen, but Nai would take that. Nai would be thrilled to have that.

"It doesn't hurt," he offered weakly, when he was certain the others would neither see nor overhear. "It's all right, Ana, it doesn't hurt. Sleep . . ." It did little good, no better than any other words. Nai did not have the trick of it. He couldn't take Ana way from the pain.

Ana had always been able to do it for him. That was how they had met him. Nirez had taken a dive down a short flight of stairs and cracked the bone in his arm. It hurt like crazy, hurt like fire, but then Ana had come. He made it go away, just like that, like it was nothing. It didn't last long, mind you, but Ana didn't mind doing it over. Young Nirez barely made a dent in the medicine the healers prescribed him, which was just as well because the teachers would make him do maths or spelling if he wanted some. Doubtless, they wouldn't be leaning on the . . . on the narcotics so heavily now if Ana had been awake and able to help them.

He'd let Ana put him to bed every night for nearly a month, until the fiery-gold got smacked for falling asleep in tactics and Nai had realized _Ana_needed to sleep nights, too. It was just . . . the comfort of it. Having someone tuck you under a blanket and stroke your back and talk to you--all for you, just you--until you drifted off to sleep, all safe in knowing they'd still be there when you woke up.

Maybe, Nai thought, maybe that was what Ana wanted a mother for.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Ana twisted on the ground beside him. He was trying to come up again, to wake. "'Way," he said. "Go 'way."

Nirez clutched the cloth in his hand and drew back. "I'm sorry!"

Ana opened his eyes and looked at him kindly. Kindly, though with such pain. "Tell . . . Nai, tell them to go away."

"Tell who?" said Nirez, flummoxed.

Ana gazed past him. "Jee," he said. He closed his eyes again and turned his muzzle against the grassy ground. It was cooler there, damp, and he liked that. "Merced."

Nai made a nervous little swallow. It felt like he was trying to gulp down a whole, sticky mouthful of honey, bitter honey. Ana had unerringly picked the dead ones. He must have been close, so close he could see them . . . but he didn't want them and that was good. That gave Nirez a little hope. He twisted and looked back over his shoulder, looked where Ana had looked.

Go away, he thought. He did not quite dare say it. He doesn't want you. I won't let you have him. Go away.

He felt cold. Ana, beside him, burned like fire. Nai dampened the cloth with his canteen and went back to washing Ana's muzzle. The red-gold seemed to sleep.