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Ana was quieter, though not entirely still. Nai sat up with him for the rest of the night--at least, for the scant handful of hours that counted as night. Ortice made no further complaints, now that Ana wasn't kicking him anymore. Bazlio had Oz to look after him. Tal was so fucked up even if he did need something he'd never know it. Nai saw false dawn approaching, then true, first light. The camp of dragons around him began to stir. Stitch's group and his own had done a merger sometime late last night. If they weren't going to be traveling today, there was no point in breaking up to manage the litters. There were even some tents set up, by the few dragons who hadn't discarded them to be rid of the weight.

Fio got going without being asked and began to wake the reluctant ones. A good dragon, Fio. Careful, sensible, responsible. He'd grow into a fine soldier if the guilt from this experience didn't kill him.

"Hot meal this morning, Nai," he said in passing.

Hooray,_thought Nirez. _Porridge! No, if he had to have something, he would eat out of his pack. At the moment he didn't feel much like food of any kind. There was too much to worry about and too much to do. Ana had started to shiver about a half hour ago and Nai didn't know if that was good or bad or even just okay. As he was contemplating a visit to the fire for some comfort and maybe a cup of tea, Ciero came up behind him and gave his nerves another good zing.

"How is he?" asked the bronze.

"Better," said the copper-green. "It was bad last night. I thought maybe we'd lose him." He just didn't feel clever enough to lie. "I wish he wouldn't shiver like that but I don't know what to do."

"Maybe get him up off the ground?" the bronze suggested acidly.

Nai didn't have it in him to rise to the sarcasm. "Maybe," he said. "You heading out?"

Ciero nodded. "Yeah. Just getting our shit together, you know . . ."

"You'll have Aracel, then?"

"I'll have him until he conks out on me, I guess."

Nirez nodded to that. He stood and wrapped both arms around Ciero's waist. He didn't squeeze, because Ciero didn't like that. Ciero was clearly uncomfortable with even this level of contact but Nai had to do_something_. "Be okay, okay? Be safe."

The tall bronze gave a snort and a diffident toss of his head. Nai made himself let go. He crouched down and dug into his kit. "Wait, now. I have things for you. They won't be too heavy, you have to take some things. You have to take water, at least, and these are lighter than that . . ." He glanced up, frowning. "And you have to take water. Take lots of water. Drink a lot. Make Aracel drink a lot and then he won't conk out on you."

"Yeah, okay, I_know_," said Ciero.

"Okay," said Nai, "you know. But you better believe it." He pointed a finger. "Like religion. Okay?"

"Okay!" said Ciero, warding him off with a hand.

"Gimme your pack," Nai said, taking it. Its bulk was much reduced. No tins, no bedroll, no tools or utensils, just some dried meat and a couple packs of crackers. Ciero wasn't even taking his belt knife. Nai made small additions. "This is for pain," he said. "This is for pain, but more. This is for staying awake. This if for staying awake, but more. This is smelling salts. Do not drink this. It says poison on the bottle and it smells like stale piss and vinegar and you're not fucking stupid so don't fucking drink it."

Ciero laughed at him, which made Nai frown. "Fuck's sake, Nirez. You act like everyone's as dumb as you are." The tall bronze slung his pack over one shoulder and fussily adjusted the sling across his chest. "Thanks," he added, as an afterthought.

"Don't say thanks," said Nai. He looked away. "Just say you'll remember. And say you'll be safe."

"Fuck's sake," Ciero muttered to himself. "I'll be fine. I'll be careful. Really." The frustration was still there, but he was trying so hard to be kind. He cast a reluctant glance at Ana, blanketed and shivering, with grasses matted beneath him from his heat. Then he promised, "I'll be fast."

Nirez gave a little nod, nothing more.

I'll love you forever, Nai thought, as Ciero turned and left him. But that was better left unsaid.

Sometime in the night they had come to . . . Not really a meadow. Sort of a largish clearing with tall grass and not much leaflitter. There were some rocks and stumps and things, but it looked a good place for takeoffs and landings. Nai honestly could not remember if anyone had asked his opinion on that. Probably not, Ciero and Aracel had better knowledge of such things. They couldn't be too far from Lone Pine, ten or fifteen miles, nothing from the air. They might have gone on without Ciero, maybe covered the distance and met him there on the way back, but there was no guarantee of it, and if they left this place they would be lost under tree cover again. The most important thing was to remain visible and get found.

Ciero and Aracel were standing and talking, inaudible over the distance. The grass was gray in the dim light, and at knee height on the two tall dragons. They were obviously flyers. Nai was obviously not. If he walked out there, it probably would have brushed his waist.

Ciero waved at him, cupped a hand and gave a call, "Hey, Nai!"

"Yeah?" said Nirez, embarrassed to be so loud.

"Fly the flags, wouldja?"

"Oh! Yeah! Okay! Sure!" He made Okay in flightsign, very broadly, though it probably couldn't be discerned over the distance and in this light.

The flags! Who had the flags? Holy crap, did they even still have the flags? They weren't terribly heavy, but by the same token they wouldn't have seemed terribly necessary. Nai grabbed the nearest dragon blindly and asked, "Who's got the flags? Do you have the flags?"

"Uh, I dunno," Oz said. "I don't . . ."

"Fio! Do you have the flags?"

"Uh-uh," replied the gold. "I think Cam had ours, but I'm not sure."

By the time Nai had hunted down Cam (and the two bundled flags he had in his pack) Aracel and Ciero were gone.

He did that on purpose, the copper thought, gazing sullenly at the sky.

-Well, what were you going to do, anyway? Wave a hankie? Cry?

He didn't know, but he still felt cheated.

Nai poked around the camp, because it was good to have something to do, and managed to find four more flags. Six out of eight, not bad. One of them was being used as a sling, but he gathered the rest and began looking for someone capable of getting them up. There were pines here, at the edges, and the orange fabric would show well against the dark green. Thank God it wasn't fall. They carried pure white standards then, to show up against the turning leaves, but the truth was that nothing showed well in that riot of color. You'd look for a tall evergreen and pray for the best. Orange against green showed a lot easier, and they had one for each direction, plus an extra.

They were giving up stealth entirely now. It had never been a priority, but now they were making themselves easy to find, and a sight worth investigating if strange dragons came on the wing. Nai touched his right hand to his left side, but he knew the sword was missing. He'd left it back at the battle, without a care for more killing. They were wounded, routed, small. Their shields were under the litters, for God's sake, acting as skids. There was no point in preparing for defense.

There still wasn't, but it did nothing good for his nerves.

Fio quickly got hold of him and volunteered for flag duty. There was no way he was tying the requisite knots with those bandaged hands, and when Nai told him so he volunteered to find someone who could . . . Which was what Nai had been doing, but he gave Fio the flags anyway and let him have at it. The 'prentice healer went back to the litter. If anyone needed him, they'd be looking for him there.

"Bela threw up again," Ree told him, pointing.

"Nai said I could," the blue-gold protested dizzily.

Nirez touched him on the forehead and peered into his eyes. "I said you would," he corrected. "I didn't say you should make a habit of it."

"What?" said Bela.

"Oh, never mind," said Nai. The blue-gold was only tired, no worse. "How's Ana?"

"Sleepin'," Ree said. "So, okay, I guess."

Nai had a look at him. The fever seemed less, maybe that was why he shivered. He wasn't now. He might later. The morning was cold and damp, but not yet rainy. Nirez got the others organized and lifted Ana on to a bedroll for the warmth before tucking him under blankets again. The red-gold moaned but did not wake. Nai let him sleep. It was quieter, easier, to do so, and if Ana slept (even fitfully) perhaps his pain was less.

"Is Oranges gonna be okay?" said Bela.

Nirez stared up at him. He might've been the only one who heard. Ree was nursing his swollen ankle. Dulio was eating out of a tin and gazing into empty space.

Bela was awfully tired, hollow-looking. He must've been too sick or pained or worried to sleep.

"We don't call him that anymore," Nai said gently.

"What?" said Bela.

"I said take these and then go get some sleep."

Bela accepted the scant handful of pills and stared at them, mystified. Nai had to open his canteen for him, but then he got the idea and took his medicine.

"Dulio," Nai said, "watch Bela and make sure he gets some sleep. Don't let him wander off, sometimes I don't think he knows where he is."

"I know_where I am," Bela said, but he didn't elaborate and Nai thought probably he didn't really. If he was back to calling Ana 'Oranges' he might think they were in _school.

Dulio took hold of him gently and walked him a small distance away, away from the litter and closer to the fire. He had probably intended to settle by the fire altogether, but Bela sat down before they got there and Dulio sat with him and bundled him in a wing. Nai was overcome with mad, stupid affection for the rosy-gold--for all of them.

They had been so_lucky_. Three years as soldiers and none of them killed or lost or maimed. They had lost a squad mate last year and two more now, but the six of them . . . Still whole. Still together. Hell, they hadn't even lost Nace, and he was a slave. If there was any job more dangerous than soldier, that was it.

He wanted to snatch them all near and keep them and love them . . . and tell them he loved them. He didn't do that nearly enough and now it made him feel so guilty and petty and stupid that he wanted to cry.

He couldn't do that, not any of that, especially not cry. He'd scare the crap out of them. If he loved them, really, the best way to show it was to shut the hell up and do his job, even if he was really fucking bad at it. Be helpful, and normal, and strong, and not go all to pieces like a crazy person.

He took a great, deep breath and let it out slowly. He smiled. "Ree, will you kinda keep an eye Ana for me? I've gotta check the litter. Then I should probably find Fio and get a look at his hands, and Cam . . . Will you just give me a shout if he needs anything? I'd really appreciate it."

The little silver sat forward--surprised at the phrasing, or maybe just surprised to be necessary for something. "Oh? Uh-huh. I had some cereal already, so I don't hafta . . ."

"You don't have to hover," Nai said. "Just check on him sometimes in case I forget."

"Yeah. Okay, Nai."

"Thanks." Nai thought probably he would hover, but at least he could do that sitting down.

Ree had Ana. Dulio had Bela. Ciero undoubtedly had plenty to keep him busy, wherever he was. Nirez had to make do with looking after everyone else. He filled his hours judiciously, made frequent checks on the litter, gave medicine and water and food. Whenever he had a moment free to worry, he would wander off and seek employment elsewhere. Oftentimes, dragons would seek him out. There were lots of cuts and bruises and blisters that hadn't seemed important when they were walking, but now were painful and bothersome. There were a lot of hurt hands, though none as bad as Fio's, and a lot of popped stitches. Seferino (who had a bright, orange flag cradling his broken arm) displayed an absolutely hideous, long, red welt where the strap of his pack had been rubbing between his wings. There was nothing for it but to clean it out and plaster a bandage over it and tell him that, for God's sake, if he couldn't carry his pack properly he ought to ask someone to carry it for him.

He still found time to look up at the flags (they'd put them close together in a line rather than spaced out around the clearing and he didn't know why but he kept forgetting ask) and he would think, Ciero. Then he would think, What time is it? and look for the sun. It seemed to creep, sometimes a smoldering yellow ember, sometimes a pale white circle like the moon viewed through gauze. At around ten o'clock it rained and they huddled beneath trees and tents and bedrolls. He saw Ree bodily shielding Ana with both wings spread. Ortice, as he had said, preferred to be rained upon and slept peacefully through most of it. Afterwards, the whole camp stank of wet dragons and wet wool, a dank and somehow furry aroma. At around three o'clock, not without irony, they ran out of water.

Of _course_they ran out of water. They weren't moving, Ciero and Aracel weren't flying out to collect more, and there wasn't any water here, apart from some mucky puddles left by the morning's shower. Dulio volunteered and he got some of the others together who weren't too banged up and they took off in the direction of Lone Pine. There was a pump there, if they happened to find no nearer stream or reservoir on the way.

It seemed hotter, with no water to drink. Ana seemed hotter, if that were possible, and Ree at last dampened a cloth in a puddle and used that to cool his brow. Dragons were scratchy and bitter, quick to snap at each other. They ate canned fruit, those that had some, and drank the syrup, upending the cans to get every last drop. Nai himself had been in the habit of taking small sips out of his canteen when he felt particularly nervous and now that there was nothing to sip or fidget he was even more nervous. He found an old, soldier's talisman in one of the med kits and he tried playing with that but it didn't help as much.

Sometime after six, with the sun already well behind the trees, the half-assed lookout they had posted cried out and pointed above, "Flyers! Due west!" They all dropped what they were doing and looked, even Nirez, who had been in the middle of re-bandaging Baz's eyes.

"Well?" the silver-green demanded, unable to see for himself.

Nirez squinted up at the darkening sky, until the shadowed shapes resolved themselves in color, and at last familiarity. "It's Dulio," he said. "It's water. They're back."

"Oh," said Baz. That seemed all he could manage.

Dulio landed heavily near them, took a few unbalanced steps forward and folded his wings away. There was a distinct lack of fanfare, only low talking and muttered thanks, a few embraces. Ree hobbled upright and gave Dulio one. He got a smile and a canteen in return, one of which he applied immediately to Ana.

"How is he?" asked the rosy-gold.

"He won't wake up," Rial said, very soft.

Nai touched the silver on the shoulder. "He's tired, Ree--"

Ree snapped at him, literally snapped. With teeth. "We're all tired!"

Nirez nodded. "Give him some water, Ree. Then let him rest." He stood and took Dulio aside, addressing him behind the shelter of a wing, "You didn't see anybody, did you?"

The rosy-gold shook his head.

It was full-on sunset now, no denying it. You could hardly see the flags, and that was if you knew where to look. Any rescuers would have to wait until morning, not just first light but full light, to begin looking for them again.

It was only another night, a few more hours. Ana would last them another night, wouldn't he? Just a few more hours. The couldn't come so near and lose him now.

He was shivering again. Ree and Nirez tucked him under his blanket. Ree even laid down beside him and covered him with a wing. He moaned a little. He did not wake.

---

It wasn't even an hour later. It couldn't have been even an hour later, because he was still wandering around giving everybody water and there was still a blush of light in the sky. The flags wafted lazily in the breeze, burnt brown against pitch black.

"Flyers! Due west!"

It was the proper direction--towards Lone Pine and home--and in the nick of time, but Nai still felt his right hand reach for his nonexistent sword. It couldn't be, could it?

The entire camp was tense, silent, watching. Some dragon, panicking, doused one of the fires. It made a desultory hiss.

There were so many. Five. Ten. Twenty? So many dark shapes against the sky.

The lead dragon, cutting a path through the wind for the others who rode in his airstream, seemed black in the twilight.

From his hands there trailed two long, orange streamers.

The cheer came out of them, came through them, as one huge voice. Nai felt it in his throat and in his chest and in his entire body, out to the tips of his wings. From that first, united swell of sound, they broke into madness. Some shouted and waved arms. Some jumped and flapped, clawing small distances into the air. Some ran, towards the clearing to meet the first landers, or just in frantic circles, unable to contain themselves. All of them waving, all of them hollering, demanding attention--all of it, now--in terror that they might somehow be missed. Somewhere near him someone began to softly cry.

As the first few dragons pulled up and dropped down from the sky, Nai found his attention drawn to one of the last. He was dangling far behind, lower than the others and falling precipitously, even as the others flew circles and gracefully landed. He was clawing the air, the reflexive motion of one who was drowning, and it seemed he might not even be able to clear the trees. Despite his obvious distress, he was using only one hand, the right one.

Oh, no,_thought Nirez. He mouthed the words. _No. No way.

He wasn't going to clear the trees. He was going to fall and tear himself to pieces.

Nirez dropped his canteen. It snubbed the strap against his shoulder and sloshed water down his side. He was already running. "Ciero!" he cried. "Ciero!"

He didn't make it, not really. When he scooped air with his wings to land he left maybe three dragon's lengths of treetops wobbling behind him. But, by the same token, he didn't get caught up in the branches and die so Nirez was thrilled . . . and angry. And happy. And about seven other things all at once that were very confusing.

Ciero landed _into_him (even half-dead from exhaustion, Ciero could land on a toenail) then he just sort of collapsed. Nirez couldn't hold his weight and therefore went down with him, first to his knees, and then he sat back on his tail with Ciero's head in his lap.

"Water," the bronze said, barely a whisper. "Water . . ."

Ciero had a canteen, it was the only thing he was carrying, and Nirez went for it, but the weight of it instantly told him it was empty, so he unhooked his own and gave that. Ciero had half of it at a swallow and Nai snatched it back away. "All right. Now, let's sit very still for a little while and try not to be sick, okay?"

"I'm so tired," Ciero said. "I'm so tired. I'm so tired . . ." His eyes were closed, his body limp, but he was twitching. Whatever Nai had given him for staying awake he seemed to have had all of it, and maybe more besides.

"Of course you're tired!" the copper-green shouted at him. "Why in God's holy name did you make the turn-around? What the hell were you thinking?"

"Aracel . . ." Ciero sucked a breath. He could only talk with every other gasp. " . . . couldn't."

"Of course Aracel couldn't! Why did you?"

"Wanted . . . be sure . . ."

"We had the flags up, didn't we? Did somebody tear your tongue out? Had you suddenly been struck dumb over the past fifteen hours? Couldn't you draw them a fucking map?"

Ciero didn't have the air for a reply and he just shook his muzzle.

"You're crazy," Nai said. "You're fucking mental."

"I was scared," Ciero managed, and he must have been tired because he wouldn't have said that at all otherwise. "Ana. They would've stopped. They would've stopped and waited all night, so they could see. They would've been slow. I couldn't let them."

"He would've been all right," Nai said softly. Ciero shook his head again. Nai couldn't gather him together enough to really hold him, but he curled around Ciero's muzzle and hugged his head. "You're some kind of hero or something, I guess," he said.

"No," said Ciero. "I dunno. Is he okay?"

"Pretty okay," said Nai.

"Can I have s'more water?"

Nai handed back the canteen. "Not all of it. Have half again."

Ciero took two swallows, smaller this time, then set the canteen, thump, on the ground. He was quiet for a time, eyes closed, breathing. Resting. "Aracel was amazing," he said, hardly moving to say it. "Aces." He made 'okay' in flightsign, weakly, to emphasize. "We stopped one time. He started bleeding again and he needed more bandage. Then we were fast. We did it in five hours. He didn't even know where he was, by the end of it. I don't think he even knew who he was. He just kept saying, 'They need help. They need help.'"

"What'd _you_say?" Nai said.

"I said, 'We have to go now.' And I said, 'I know just where they are.' And they got everything together and they came. Then I don't remember . . ." He opened his eyes. They were focused past Nai, on the darkening sky. "Did I really do it? Am I here now?"

"Yes, honey," Nai said. He bent and licked Ciero on the side of his muzzle. "You're here. You did good. You were amazing. Rest now."

Ciero shut his eyes again. "Stay," he said.

Nai stayed. Ciero curled against him and Nai covered him with a wing. The bronze took little snatches of sleep. He would relax for an instant and then snort and jerk awake until Nirez coaxed him to settle again. It seemed such a little time.

Someone called him from the direction of the camp, "Nai!"

The copper brought his muzzle up, wide-eyed, looking around.

No, that was a 'Hai!' he told himself. _That's what that was. That's all._He settled again. Ciero was drooling on him. He must've been sleeping better now. Nirez carefully stroked his crest.

"Nai!"

He fisted his hands. No.

"NAI!"

That was a scream. Oh, God, that sounded bad. He tried to squirm out from under Ciero's head, and he found himself trembling as he did so. Oh, please, not that bad. Nothing that bad. Oh, please . . . Please, God . . .

"Nai?" said Ciero, and that sounded so much more loud and needed and urgent. Nai stopped right where he was.

"I'm sorry," he said painfully. "I have to go now. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He had withdrawn and was preparing to stand when Ciero said, "No."

"I'm sorry," he said again. "I'll come back, I promise. I'll bring you another canteen," he added, sure that this, if nothing else, would grant him release.

Ciero curled on the ground. Cold. Alone. He bundled in his wings, holding himself. He didn't care about a canteen. "Please don't go."

"NAI!" It was Ree's voice. Ragged. Desperate.

"I'll come back," he said. He was nearly crying. "I promise. I'm sorry."

He ran. He didn't want to, but he fucking ran.

---

There was a dragon here, crouched beneath his wings and sobbing. In the moonlight, he seemed silver. It was too dark for colors here.

Nirez stumbled to a halt in front of him. "Ree?" He bent and put out a hand to touch . . .

The dragon looked up at him, eyes wide and shining.

"Stitch!" said Nai, and he staggered back a pace.

"We could've all gone home," Stitch said. He sounded drugged. His expression was stupid, slack-mouthed horror. There was no recognition in it. "They're killing," he said. "The healers are killing. Why are they killing? We could've all gone home."

Ana . . .

For an instant, Nai was reeling. All hope fled, and with it all purpose. He couldn't even find the strength to breathe.

The cry refocused him, "NIREZ!" Dulio's voice this time, a rising inflection. Nai turned towards it and ran, claws tearing the earth with every step.

Behind him, Stitch spoke numbly to no one, "We could've all gone home . . ."

---

Tal was off the litter, but not far. He lay on his belly, limp. The ground was sodden with his blood. Ree and Bela and Dulio were standing in it. The healers did, too. They were three: a red-gold, a yellow-gold and a bronze with blue. The yellow-gold had a syringe. The red-gold had a blade, a mercy-kill blade.

Bazilo was trying to rise, snarling and struggling against Oz's attempts to keep him seated. "I'll get up and walk!" the silver-green said. "You hear me? I can walk! He can have my place!"

"I think I can handle the big one," the yellow-gold said, never once averting his eyes from Ana and his three protectors. "And I'll have him out soon enough. Can you two take the others?"

"The little one won't do much harm," the blue-bronze put in. "If he's any trouble we can kick him in the ankle."

"Try it!" Rial snarled at him. His claws and teeth were bared. His back plates bristled. They did little to make him look more threatening; he could hardly stand.

Nirez barreled into this scene like a swallow crashing through a barn window. "Stop it!" he cried. "Stop it, stop it! I won't let you hurt them. I won't let you! Get away!" He threw himself between them and spread his wings wide, a living barrier.

"Oh, great," said the yellow-gold. "Another one."

"Now what?" said the red-gold.

The yellow-gold slipped the needle back into his kit, not even bothering to box it or take it apart. One way or another, he was going to need it. "Look," he said, "will you just listen, please? Your friend is dying. He's shivering, because his body is so weak it can't even keep the fever going anymore. He won't wake up. He's suffering. Just look at him."

Rial, behind Nai, put his face in his hands and began to weep. Bela and Dulio were silent, stunned.

"This is the best thing we can do for him," the yellow-gold said, and he nodded to the red-gold, the one with the blade. "He won't even feel it, he'll just slip away." (That was a lie and Nai knew it. He narrowed his eyes.) "If you want me to, I'll use the morphia. It's . . . It's_cleaner_."

The medicine? But that was for helping people! You were supposed to use that to make them better!

Nirez had his belt knife in his hand and he had no idea how it got there. He folded his wings back and made himself small, and slipped one foot slowly backwards, digging claws into the dirt. This was how he fought, not in formation with sword and shield, but in a knock-down drag-out brawl. This was how he fought his own kind. "One more word out of you and I'll kill you," he told the yellow-gold. "You're a serpent. You don't come near." He glanced at the others, the red and the bronze. "You two. You can either help him, or you can fuck off."

The red-gold put the blade back in its case. He was about to slip this back in his kit but he thought better of it and tossed it aside, into the tall grass. He showed both hands, palms out. "All right?"

Nirez nodded to him and shifted aside, but he did not come out of his stance.

"Leo--" the yellow-gold began. He took a single step forward and Nirez _hissed_at him.

"I don't think he's kidding, Aciano," the red-gold said.

The yellow-gold retreated, silently.

The blue-bronze clicked open his own kit, found the killing-blade, showed it, and then threw it away. "I want to help, okay? Please don't kill me."

Nirez allowed his approach. He backed up towards Ree and Ana, but he did not take his eyes off the yellow-gold. "Bela," he said, "Dulio, you watch him," he pointed with the knife. "I'll see to these others."

Dulio nodded. He drew his own knife and Nirez put his away.

Nai did not aid the healers in their examination. He watched them.

Ana cried out when they moved his bandage and both healers withdrew and gazed up at Nai in terror.

"Go on," said Nirez. "I know you're not killing him. Do something. Help him."

The two dragons settled a little. They spoke quietly to each other. One of them brought a lamp in closer and prodded the wound with a careful claw.

"Double-edged weapon," the red-gold said. "Barbed end."

"Shit, yeah, look how it's torn," the blue-bronze said. He was young. Not younger than Nirez, but young for a healer. He had either never learned, or had just now forgotten, that he was supposed to say, 'ah.'

"We can suture these, " the red-gold replied. "Stop the bleeding. Slow it, at least." He turned to Nirez, "Has he been bringing up blood?"

Nai nodded slowly, secretly terrified, because he knew what that might mean.

The questions came faster: "Coughing or vomiting?"

"Coughing."

"A lot or just a little?"

"A little. Like spray." It had seemed like a lot, it felt like a lot, but that was only because he coughed so hard and it was so scary. Merced,he had been bringing up a lot.

"Broken rib," the blue-bronze said.

"Probably," said the red-gold. "As long as he's clearing it, that's okay. Did you try to stitch this?" he put to Nai.

"Uh-uh," said the copper-green. It was too ragged and too wet. It had never occurred to him to try.

"Cauterize?" the red-gold said.

"No . . ."

"Excellent," the red-gold said.

The blue-bronze shook his head. "He's lost a lot of blood."

"Yes, but at least we're not clearing up more damage. We'll stop it now."

They tended him, with salve and syrups and needles and thread. (Nai found he trusted them so long as they weren't coming at Ana with a blade or a syringe, though whether that was logical he didn't know and he didn't care.) Ana cried out a few more times, and was really crying, with tears running down his muzzle. Nai thought maybe that was good. Tal hadn't cried, or cried out or blinked or anything. Ana, at least, could feel them. Rial and Nirez sat on either side of him, holding his hands and talking to him, just in case he might still hear. Rial was crying, too, but not very loudly. His eyes had got very stary and Nai wondered if he mightn't be going into shock. He didn't understand very much about shock, just that it was someplace you went when the pain and trauma got too much to bear, and sometimes dragons fainted. Ree didn't have it as bad as Stitch, at least.

When they were through with Ana, Nai felt all right leaving him with Ree and the others, and he went with the healers to have a look at Ortice.

The mottled sliver's eyes flew open wide, and he started to gasp as soon as he saw them, before they even touched him. "No. . . No . . ." Ortice said. He was scrabbling at the branches of the litter, trying to drag himself away. "No, no, no, please, no . . ."

Ortice, evidently, had seen what they had done to Tal.

Nirez caught his shoulders and pressed him down. "They are not going to kill you," he said. "I won't let them. I won't let them kill any more."

The wounded dragon still needed drugs to calm him to the point where he would allow himself to be handled. Bazilo required much the same. Though he hadn't seen a thing, he knew. All of them knew, and they never would trust healers quite the same as before.

Not even Nai.

---

Later, he gave Rial ten drops of laudanum in a cup with some water and made him drink.

"Will I sleep?" Ree asked him, bundling in a blanket.

"If you let yourself," said Nai. "But it won't make you." He'd had laudanum himself, when his arm was mending, and a few times since then. It was nice, but for a tendency to make one slightly queasy. He hoped Ree would like it . . . but not too much.

"I want to sleep," the silver said.

"Try, then," Nai told him.

"But will Ana be all right?" Ree cried.

Nirez shushed him and tried to get him settled down. There were others trying to sleep, whether Rial could or not. "Yes," he assured. "He'll be fine. I'll look after--"

"No!" said Ree. And then, much quieter, "He's dying. They said so."

"No," said Nirez. He took Ree by both shoulders and shook him. "That was a lie. They were lying so we'd let them kill him. You understand?"

"Lying," the silver repeated. "Yes." The words were distant. He looked dazed. That might have been the medicine, or just the shock. Stitch had proven to be rather suggestible, too. (Which was just as well because they never would have gotten him to bed otherwise.)

Nirez gently disentangled himself and pressed Rial down on to his bedroll. "Get some sleep, Ree," he said. "It's all right. It's fine."

"Fine . . ." said Ree, then nothing more.

Nai left him and headed toward the nearest fire to get something to eat.

He wasn't really hungry, he hadn't been hungry all day, but he wanted to be around people. He wanted to do something normal.

There were maybe ten dragons gathered around the fire. Some of them were singing. He wanted to sing.

Cam plucked at the fabric of his wing as he approached and drew him aside.

"Listen, Nai . . ." He considered for a moment, then he pulled the dragon into an embrace, not to hold him but to whisper to him, "That was an incredibly brave thing that you did back there and I hope to God no one ever finds out about it."

Nirez nodded sickly. He'd had plenty of time to think about it himself. Threatening to kill a healer, a dragon who was tasked with treating/saving his entire regiment. Almost actually doing it. That was beyond insubordination. That was, like, treason or something. The sort of crime where another dragon could walk right up to you and lop your head off with a sword, and then be awarded a medal for it.

"I'm sorry we didn't . . . That nobody . . ." Cam said, apologizing not only for himself but for the entire squad, maybe the entire species.

"No, it's all right," Nai said. He knew they couldn't have helped him. Well, they could've, but they couldn't have, really. It was enough that no one had tried to kill him.

"I'll never tell," Cam said. "And the others won't either." This he said with eyes narrowed and voice lowered, saying without saying that he would make certain of it.

"Thanks, Cam," said Nai. There was nothing to do about whatever the healers might say, especially the yellow-gold one, but he couldn't bring himself to be very worried about that just now. There were too many other things to be worried about, and he was tired.

Cam gave him a bracing thump on the back and left him with a nod.

Dulio was by the fire and that was good because Nai wasn't sure he could bear to talk to anybody else. "What's on?" he asked the rosy-gold.

"It's a, uh . . . It's a, uh . . ." Dulio called to the red-gold healer, "Leocadio!" (Trust Dulio to get right to casual names, not even Doctor or Sir.) "What's on?"

"It's a tisane," the dragon replied.

Nirez nodded to him. "Tea."

"No, not really," said Leocadio, but not unkindly.

"There's some chili left, if you want that," Dulio said. "It's still warm."

"That sounds good," said Nai. It did sound good, surprisingly. Dulio dished him out a large help and handed him a metal plate with a spoon in it. It was beans, mostly, but someone had added a can of peppers and it had a little kick to it, which Nirez liked. He ate a few bites.

Some dragon nearby stood abruptly and took a few paces away. Nai caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and he turned and looked because . . . Well, he supposed because that was the way eyes worked.

Ciero was holding a tin cup, not drinking. His eyes were cold.

"Ciero . . . ?" Nai said.

Then he remembered.

Oh, shit.

-I'll come back. I promise. I'll bring you another canteen . . .

Oh, shit!

He dropped his plate, then he kicked it because it landed in his way. He reached out for the bronze, meaning to catch an arm, a wing, something. "Ciero!" The dragon stopped him with a gaze.

"Don't talk to me right now, Nirez," Ciero said, then he turned and stalked away.

"Oh," said Nirez. Not even Oh, fuck, just Oh, miserably.

He suddenly didn't want people at all. No dragons, no food, no companionship, and he certainly did not want to sing. He turned and headed off in the opposite direction, blindly seeking darkness, away from the light.

He didn't stop. They might've called him, Dulio might've called him, but he didn't listen and he didn't stop. He came to the outskirts of the camp, into the trees, where the darkness was thickest. His eyes adjusted slowly, and they darted around him, searching for a good, dim place to cover and hide . . . Because they might come after him, they might, and he didn't want them. Not Dulio. Not anyone. There was kind of a thicket here, some low brush or maybe a bramble. He couldn't see any thorns, but he stuck a hand in and pulled a branch to be sure.

_That was stupid,_he told himself, but he didn't get hurt, and he wouldn't have minded if he did.

There were eyes in this thicket. Shining, animal eyes.

Nirez let go the branch and stumbled backwards with a cry.

"Shh-hhh-hhh-hhhsh," Fio said, rising. That went on waaay too long and he giggled quietly to himself. "Nobody knows I'm here." He staggered and sat down again, resting his back against a convenient tree.

While Nirez was still processing this, and before he had a moment to speak, the young gold drew out a shiny, metal flask and had a sip of it.

"Don't tell Nirez," Fio mouthed at him, a stage whisper. "He'll make me throw it away."

Nirez looked at his own scales in the dim light. He looked dark, maybe bronze or mottled silver. He wondered who Fio thought he was.

Though, given the state of the dragon, Fio might not think he was anyone at all.

I should_make him throw it away,_ Nai said to himself. He shook his muzzle and sat down instead, joining Fio against the tree. "I won't tell anybody. Can I have some?"

Fio passed him the flask and Nirez sipped. Brandy. He was not a great drinker of brandy. Usually he preferred something with fizz in it--beer or hard cider, nothing too strong--and he nurtured a secret affection for iced blush wine, but that was more for the memory than for the taste. This was strong, though, and that was all he wanted now. He sipped again, more this time, then handed it back.

Fio drank and grimaced. He didn't like the taste. He liked the effect, though. He liked being drunk and he didn't want to stop.

"Cyrilo is dead," he said.

Nirez gave a little jump. That word. He had spent so long and so much effort working around that word. Dead. It was just so flat and final that it stunned him. Dead, like the thump of a hardwood door.

"He was . . . Was on the other litter." Fio gestured with the flask, then he handed it back to Nirez. "There were only nine of us," he said. He paused, blinking, and considered that. "The class. In class. They made us one squad--to train, like--and we knew we'd get split up. Cyrilo was flyer. He was fast. Not fast-fast but fastest. We used to do relay. You know? Relay?"

Nirez nodded. Yeah. They used to do relays, the six of them, two by two. But it was a big class and they knew they probably wouldn't get split up, at least not at first assignment. He gave back the flask.

"We used to win, always, 'cos he was fast. Faster. And . . . We got split up, but Cyrilo was the same regiment, so that was all right. He was on the other litter. He was . . ." Fio drew a finger across his lower belly. "He couldn't walk. But it was just little, though. Not like . . . I thought . . ." He shook his muzzle. "What was I saying?"

"Drink more," Nai advised. Fio did and then Nai did, too.

"He was awake," Fio said. He fisted his hands and tipped his muzzle back against the treetrunk, towards the branches above. He screamed at them, "They're not supposed to do it if you're awake!"

The ones that Stitch had done, the ones gut-wounded, they had been awake, but Nai did not mention this. He just drank, and that was a little better.

"He was choking," Fio said. "He was trying not to die . . ."

Nirez put a hand on him and shushed him. "Don't think of it. It won't do any good."

"No," said Fio, head bowed. He sobbed, once, then he was quiet. "We used to do . . . things."

"Relays," Nai said.

"Yeah. Those. Stuff." The young gold wiped his muzzle. "I loved him a little, I guess."

Nirez leaned sideways and licked him on the cheek. It seemed a reasonable action at the time. He didn't feel drunk (though he might've if he tried to stand) just warm and sort of sad. Not painful sad, more like,Gee, I really wish it didn't have to be this way.

Oh, Jee, he thought. And Merced, too. The older bronze had never really mucked in with the rest of them, and the first thing he'd ever done was to beat the crap out of Dulio . . . But, be fair, the rosy-gold had been asking for it. He guessed he'd loved them both a little.

Fio, too, he guessed.

He licked again. Fio turned and licked him back. Nai bundled him in a wing and held him for a little while.

"You're not . . .lots older," the gold began, with difficulty.

"No . . ."

"It's not . . . weird . . . or anything . . ."

"No."

"You're pretty," Fio decided and he giggled again.

"_You're_pretty," Nirez declared and poked him in the muzzle with a claw.

They fell together.

---

Fio fell asleep after, or possibly during, Nai was a little hazy on that. He slept, too. It really was an excellent way of getting to sleep, and the orgasm was so intense and so . . . so needed . . . that he bit his tongue until it bled and never even tasted it. There was something about sex and death. He still didn't know what it was, but it was powerful and it scared him a little.

He woke before first light, incredibly thirsty and needing to pee. Strong liquor just hit him that way sometimes. It was a damn good thing he woke, because the others never would've found him and Fio in the bushes. Rial would have lost his fucking mind.

He returned to collect Fio, after tending to himself, and he brought his med kit and a canteen. Fio would need drugs and water to make it through the day, probably even more than Nai himself.

-Sure. NOW you remember to bring a canteen. You fucking loser, useless waste-of-space.

"C'mon, Fio. Big day, today. We're going home."

Fio cracked open bleary eyes, focused on him and immediately vomited. It was the second time Nirez had seen the previous night's meal in this context and he was glad he hadn't eaten much himself. He turned his muzzle away.

I am never eating beans again. Oh, no, no, no. Never, never, never!

"Oh, God," said Fio, looking down at his mess.

"Oh, God," said Fio, looking up at Nirez.

Nirez put an arm around him and dragged him to his feet. "Come along, young one. Let's get you cleaned up and try to mend your head before that old bastard sun comes up."

"Oh, God," said Fio, not really protesting. He seemed incapable of other words.

"Drink water, dear," Nirez said gently. He gave the canteen. "And then I have some lovely white pills for you, I think."

---

Fio was still sobbing an hour later when the red-gold healer, Leocadio, found them.

Nai had been making him drink water, and out of absolutely nowhere, Fio said, "I ran and hid!" And then he started to cry and he wouldn't stop. Nirez held him, because he didn't know what else to do with him. He didn't know if a sedative would calm the dragon down or knock him out, and the narcotics had this tendency to make people throw up if you had them on an empty stomach--or he might have had that the wrong way 'round, but either way could be bad. He couldn't even grab his med kit. Fio wouldn't let him go.

"Go away," Nirez said flatly. Some of the dragons here might still tolerate the healers, but Fio was not one of them.

"No, I don't think so," the red-gold said, and he actually sat.

Fio turned and hissed at him, he was able to quit crying long enough to do that. "Go away. I hate you!"

"Yes, I suppose you do," Leocadio said. He opened his canteen and poured into a cup. He seemed to have rather a lot of cups, most of them threaded through the strap, a few hooked to the belt around his waist. He must have been collecting them. "Here, drink this."

Fio shoved it away, spilling the contents. Leocadio poured and offered again. "I've three canteens of this stuff. We can do this all morning, but it's rather a waste."

"Go on, Fio," Nirez said. The healers were hateful, yes. Evil, yes. But this one seemed to have some idea what he was doing.

Grudgingly, suspiciously, Fio drank.

"Thank you, that's better," Leocadio said, with the same, careless inflection. "Now, let's allow Nirez to go get something to eat, shall we?"

"No!" said Fio, clinging. And Leocadio just looked at him, waiting.

"Yes," said Fio, finally. He withdrew and hugged his own shoulders, bandaged hands painfully obvious.

"Nirez, go get something to eat," the red-gold repeated, now looking at him.

Nirez dithered for a moment but soon relented. If he didn't get something to eat he wasn't going to be of any use to anyone, and they still needed him. They weren't home yet.

"I don't want_you_," Fio said behind him.

"No, of course you don't," Leocadio said. "But let's go back to camp and see if we can't find somebody you do want."

---

Dulio snatched him and hugged him before he got anywhere near a fire, or even figured out where he'd left his pack the night before.

"Where _were_you?" the rosy-gold demanded.

"Around," Nai said. He dipped his muzzle. "I didn't want anyone. I'm sorry."

"Shit," said Dulio. He hugged Nai again, then he shoved him back to arms' length. "I will feed you," he said. "Do you want tea?" He was already striding away. "I'll get you some tea. You can have tea and biscuits . . ."

Nai had to drink his tea out of an empty can. Leocadio had all the cups.

Ree and Bela were sitting nearby, the silver on a convenient log and Bela crouched back on his heels. They were eating from tins. They both looked better, Nai supposed, but Bela looked better than Ree. The silver was more staring than eating, and Bela had to keep reminding him to put the spoon in his mouth.

Oziel was kneeling on his bedroll, near the fire, trying and repeatedly failing to hack open a tin. He was pleading with it, soft, miserable words, "Please. I'm hungry. I just want to eat. Please. I'm hungry. I just want to eat." In the midst of this he cried out--screamed, no less--and buried his knife hilt-deep in the grassy ground, "Oh, you bastard, why won't you just let me eat?"

_Oh, fuck,_thought Nirez. He staggered to his feet, though he didn't know what to do about this either. What were you supposed to do with hysterics? Slap them? Make them breathe into a paper bag? He couldn't think of any medicine, but his head was still all jumbled from having to deal with Fio.

Before Nai could even hazard a step in the proper direction, Leocadio appeared--literally seemed to appear, out of the gray, foggy morning--knelt beside Oziel and gave him a cup. Oz shrieked at him, bristling, claws bared, "Why can't I wake up? Why won't they let me wake up?" The healer accepted this mildly, with a nod. Oz drank, and then he was quiet. Leocadio opened his tin for him.

Nirez stood, absorbing this slowly, then he sat and went back to his tea. He was tired, too tired to feel concern, or gratitude, or even relief. Any enthusiasm he'd felt for being rescued had died with Cyrilo and Tal. The entire camp was tired, slow and subdued. There was the occasional sound of soft tears, and sometimes louder outbursts that proved Oz and Fio weren't the only ones having difficulty this morning. Nai figured the red-gold healer could deal with it. Or if he couldn't, Nai didn't care.

When he had finished his tea, it was time to get Ana back on to the litter and get the rest of them ready to go. Nai was too busy with hurt people to look after crazy people, and Stitch was no damn help--he just stood and stared. He would move, if you latched on to his arm and_physically_ moved him, and then he'd go back to staring. Nai put him by the larger litter and left him there. The yellow-gold healer had staked that as his territory, doing everything short of_pissing_ on it, and presumably he would reposition their unraveling medic as needed.

Or maybe he wouldn't, but at least Nirez was shut of him, of both of them. The yellow-gold healer could slaughter the entire litter's worth of dragons--and Stitch, too--and stand there giggling in the strew of their guts and Nai would only have the energy to feel mildly ill. Then he would turn and walk away, just like he was doing now. Stitch's group was none of his concern.

He saw Fio once, for a little bit, while he was still tending Ana and _his_dragons. Nai was feeling rather territorial this morning, too. Fio was his, and Nai could work up a little worry for him. The young gold was sitting sprawled, with his back against a skinny tree, and methodically eating crackers. He would hold one up and stare at it from close range, as if confirming that it was in fact a cracker, or maybe looking for sharp edges. Then he would pop it into his mouth and take out another one to stare at while he chewed. When he noticed Nai, he paused and smiled painfully. He swallowed. "Had to have something . . . You know?"

Nai nodded. Yeah. He hadn't much wanted his biscuits, either, but Dulio wouldn't take no for an answer. And he did feel a little better now, he guessed. "You holding up okay?" he asked. It was the only thing that came to mind.

"Guess so," Fio said. He looked away, looked back. "I'm sorry about . . . before . . ."

That was vague enough to mean absolutely anything. He might've meant the crying, or the throwing up, or the sex, or the alcohol. He might even have meant running away and hiding, which was days ago.

Well, whatever he meant, there was only one answer for Nai to give. "Don't be," he said.

Fio nodded, then he went back to staring at his cracker.

The yellow-gold healer, with the blue-bronze assisting, got Stitch's group together first, despite the larger amount of wounded and Stitch's evident uselessness. When they called a start, though, Nai was able to answer right back. Leocadio was an admitted help, though he showed no allegiance in his ministration, and would wander off with cup in hand at the first sound of a nervous collapse. And he was quiet about helping, which Nirez really appreciated. Not that Nai _mentioned_it. That would rather ruin the quiet, wouldn't it?

It went faster now, with strong dragons, healthy dragons to pull and carry. They had enough to send groups out ahead, to scout the best path and clear out the rough patches. It was so much easier this way. Once they got going, they stayed going, and the skids ate up the ground like hardpacked snow. If they'd been this fast from the beginning, Nirez thought with a twinge, they might not have lost Merced.

It might've helped that they were less Merced's weight, and Tal's weight, and the entire third litter, but that was even more painful to consider.

They walked, not with any particular organization, just two big clumps of dragons bound together at a short distance. Nai tried to stay near his litter, in case anybody needed him, and experience demanded that he keep an eye on the two who were pulling, in case they needed to quit and wouldn't, even though these new dragons were strong and healthy and fine. Ree and Bela stuck near the litter, too, near Ana, and they stuck together, minding each other. Ree was still shocky, and he needed help walking. Bela was exhausted, and not entirely sensible. As a unit they functioned reasonably well and did not wander or fall behind. Dulio wandered, splitting his time between Ree and Bela and Nai and Ciero.

Ciero was with them, too, of course. He kept away from the litter, in with the vanguard, surrounded by strangers who wouldn't scold him or speak to him or bother him. He was no longer angry or cold. His posture and his position said he was ashamed. Dulio kept going over to him and telling him to quit being an asshole, go back and apologize or something and it would be okay, but Ciero wouldn't. He answered with head hanging, and too softly for Nirez to discern. Evidently it was always 'no,' because after a while Dulio would give up and go away. He'd try again later.

Nai never went with him. He wanted to say, 'I'm sorry,' too, and end this, but Ciero was in no shape. The tall bronze was terrified, and if he saw Nai coming he might run away. Or, even worse, dig his claws in and scream, say bad things, hurtful things, just to make Nai go away and stop before_Nai_ could hurt him. It was best to leave things as they were. Ciero would come 'round eventually, though that was cold comfort if comfort at all.

There was constant conversation amongst the lot of them, even though they were tired and voices were soft. Two dragons would drift together, maybe one would seek out the other with a particular issue and drift towards him with purpose, like Dulio did. Brief words were exchanged, and sometimes even a little laughter, before they ran out of topic and drifted apart again, maybe to group up with others in a moment or two. Nai did not seek social engagement, but sometimes it found him. Only once did he speak first, when he saw Oziel walking near him with metered steps.

"What's it like?" he said.

"What's what?" Oz replied, blinking.

"The healer gave you medicine," Nai said. "What's it feel like?"

"Oh," said Oz. He considered that, maybe for a little longer than he would have ordinarily. "It's okay," he decided. "A little strange. Like everything's far. It's okay." He looked down at his hands and moved them slightly. "My eyes don't blur or anything. I'm not sleepy. I can think. It's just like . . ." He shrugged and made a weak little smile. "Like maybe I'm dreaming but it doesn't bother me s'much anymore. I can walk straight if I think about it. Look." He stretched his wings for balance and demonstrated a few steps.

Nai thought Oz had been walking fine all morning--he would've gone over and seen to him otherwise--but if he was thinking about walking straight, maybe he wasn't thinking about anything else.

"Do I talk all right?" Oz asked, concern bringing a little focus to his eyes. "I think maybe I sound funny."

"You sound okay to me," Nai assured. He smiled. "Just try to walk straight."

"'Kay," said Oz, and he did.

The red-gold healer, Leocadio, bumped into him after Oziel wandered away. Nai thought it was an accidental meeting, but later he thought it was probably on purpose. The healer said, "Sorry," Nai said, "Uh-huh," and they walked quietly for a little while.

"Which one was his friend?" the red-gold said.

"What?" said Nirez, already irritated at having to settle his thoughts and form words.

"The gold, the young one. He hates me especially, more than the others. Was it the head wound or the gut wound?"

Nirez finally understood, and understanding brought an acid frown. "They had_names_, you know," he said.

Leocadio drew up short and stopped walking, and such was their position that Nirez had to stop, too, or else run into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the red-gold cried. Too loud, louder than anyone, and Nai was instantly humiliated. "Does that make any difference? Does that change what I did, what I had to do? Shall I mourn for them, two dragons I hardly met and never knew? Shall I paint my brow with ashes and have hysterics? Is that better for you? Is that better for_anyone_? Oh, then, by all means! Let's have their names!" He stood there, staring, hands open, awaiting an answer, while the other dragons made way around them, not stopping and trying not to stare.

Nirez muttered something, head down, turned away and started walking again. Leocadio kept after him and demanded, "What was that?"

"The gut wound!" Nirez snapped at him. "I said it was the gut wound! Why do you have to be such a fucking bastard about it?"

"All healers are bastards," the red-gold said. "Don't you know that? Haven't _you_been one?"

Nai had been one, he couldn't deny it. He was silent.

Leocadio nodded to that, his expression vindicated.

"You didn't have to kill them," Nai said, not looking at him. "They're only two. We could've managed. Even if they were going to die anyway, you could've let them die at home."

"Let them die? Ah," Leocadio said fondly, "you make it sound so easy. It isn't. Dragons die hard. They say life is fragile, don't they? That's bullshit. Life is armor-plated--brutal, and strong . . . and stupid. Sometimes it just keeps on, trying to walk when it can't even crawl, howling and screaming and in such pain, until it makes you sick to look at it, and you want to beat it to death with a fucking_rock_ . . ." He looked down at his hands. They were crabbed, clawed and shaking. Softly, he said, "Or you cut it out with a blade." He sighed, relaxed with visible effort and looked up at Nai. "Once you get back to the fortress, you have to petition for a mercy kill. And every dragon has friends. Sometimes they understand and they won't fight you. Sometimes they don't and they do. Sometimes they understand but they fight you anyway, because they can't accept it. Sometimes the fucking council doesn't understand." He shook his muzzle. "And the whole time they're dying, and they're going to die anyway, but they just fucking won't.

"The gut wound was dirty," he said. "When you get near and you can smell the shit inside, you know they're going to die, and it's bad. Peritonitis. Everything swells, and it hurts so much. They can't eat, they can't sleep. Sometimes they can't even talk to you anymore and they just cry. Sometimes even the morphia doesn't help." He caught Nirez's horrified expression, shut his mouth, shook his muzzle and stumbled back a pace. "No. It isn't like that with your friend. His wound is clean, he was lucky that way. And you did everything right."

"But you were going to kill him anyway," Nai said, not now with any venom, just with quiet, frustrated curiosity. A strange emotion. Okay, why? What the fuck?

The red-gold shrugged. He dipped his muzzle, submissive pose. He would try to explain, and if the copper medic wanted to scream at him afterwards, or even strike him, he would allow that, up to a point. "Sometimes it's not easy. Sometimes you don't know if they're going to die, or how badly or in how long, and you have to guess. And you have to do it quickly because there isn't much time. So you make rules, and you keep them. If the dragon has lost a lot of blood, enough that he's pale in his wings and crest, and around the muzzle . . . And he won't wake up, and he's shivering, and he should be feverish but instead he's cold . . . And he's in pain . . . Yeah, you kill that dragon." He shrugged again. "But he might live. He can live."

"He will_live," Nirez said. He said it with conviction, but he didn't really know. He _couldn't know.

"Maybe," said Leocadio.

They were quiet for a little while. Nirez stared intently at the ground and tried to think of nothing at all.

"You don't want to be a healer anymore, do you?" the red-gold told him through a painful smile.

Nai stumbled and almost fell down. "I . . . No, I . . . I don't know." No, he didn't. He fucking well didn't, but he didn't want to talk about that_now_, and sure as hell not with this dragon, so he didn't say it.

"Think about it," Leocadio said. "Not right now, but later . . . Try. We need dragons." He laughed weakly. "We always do. But once they get a taste of it they don't want to anymore. We could use you, if you think you can."

"I'm not clever," Nai said. "I'm slow." Being stupid and slow were the worst sins a Pythian could commit. They relegated one to a life of quiet desperation, no chits, little salary, constant debts and favors. A lifetime of taking it up the ass, in other words. Nai had every reason to expect that for himself, and he thought he had made his peace with it.

"Doesn't matter," the healer said. "You're strong. I can teach you if you want to learn."

"I don't want to talk about it right now!" Nirez said finally, as nothing else seemed to suffice. "My God, you're self-absorbed, aren't you? You get some idea in your head and you just keep on. It never occurs to you a body just doesn't want to talk anymore. I'm tired, okay? I don't want to talk! Can't you take a fucking hint?"

"I can take that one," the red-gold said stiffly. "I can take one if it's applied with a fucking trowel, can't I?" He was quiet, but he didn't walk away. His presence grated, and the cups on his belt made a constant clatter.

"What is it that you're giving them, anyway?" Nai demanded. "I hope like hell it's not addictive."

"What? That?" said the dragon. He gestured to his canteen. He had three of them, actually. One was empty and he had shoved it to his back, behind one wing. "Just some calming herbs and a mild dissociative--Oh!" He winced as if stung. "I'm sorry, that's a healer's answer. So exact it's useless. A dissociative is--"

Nai said, "It makes them feel like they're far."

"Yeah, that's it," Leocadio said with an approving nod.

Nirez turned his muzzle away. He didn't want approval, especially not Leocadio's. "I'm not clever," he said. "I didn't know it. One of them said it, that's all."

The healer's approving look did not go away and Nirez briefly considered punching him, but he was tired, and he wasn't even sure that would work.

"Anyway," the red-gold said, "they'll be all right. I always make a tisane, when it's like this. They've been running on fear," he nodded to the dragons around them. "They're tired now, and not so afraid. There are always going to be some who can't make it home before they break down. This doesn't fix it, but it gives a little time. _You'll_make it all right, I think," he added. It took a moment for Nai to parse that this was meant as a compliment.

"You're saying I'll break down," Nai repeated with dull disdain.

"Oh, spectacularly," Leocadio said. He was actually smiling. He looked peculiar. Nostalgic. "But not for a while yet."

"Piss off, then," Nirez said bitterly. "Go bother someone who wants you."

"Nobody _wants_me," Leocadio said, with that same, weird, contented detachment. He did, at last, slow down and break away from Nirez and the litter, and Nai didn't have to bother about him any more.

Dulio came over and wanted to talk about Ciero, or something. Nirez told him quietly to go away, and wouldn't look up again until he had. He didn't want to talk anymore. He didn't want to think, either, but he couldn't help that. For someone so stupid he didn't know the difference between_sedative_ and narcotic, he sure as hell seemed to think a lot. Maybe the others didn't think so much because they didn't _have_to. Maybe they just knew stuff, like the right things to do.

He didn't want to be a medic anymore.

He thought, If I'm a medic, I'll have to kill my friends. He might not have to. He might be lucky. They might die quickly, on their own, or not at all. But he didn't think he'd be lucky five times--_Six times,_he amended, thinking of Nace--and he couldn't go into this pretending that he would be.

He didn't want to go into this. He didn't want to be a medic!

So why couldn't he stop thinking that he should?

Dulio had come over again and was walking just slightly behind Nai's right shoulder.

The copper dragon sighed, feeling defeated, "Dulio . . ."

"Nai," said Dulio, and there was an edge to his voice that made Nai turn and look. The rosy-gold was pointedly grinning. "Can you smell it?"

Nirez groaned and touched a hand to his forehead, for the moment making the effort not to inhale. Oh, God, what hilarious thing does he think he's done this time?

"You smell it, don't you? Nai?"

"No," said Nirez. "I . . ." Oh, no wait. No, despite all desire to the contrary he did smell something, could even taste it at the back of his throat. A dark, earthen sweetness that made him want to spit. It was familiar, very, but . . . "What the hell is that?"

"Cowshit," Dulio declared, grinning. He was mincing on the balls of his feet, getting ahead and then walking backwards, dancing like he needed desperately to pee. "Cowshit. They got cows, Nai! They got_carts_ for us, Nai! We're gonna ride in some carts!" This last with the barely-contained hysteria of a small child anticipating a whole bag of candy.

Nirez made a smile. It was a small smile, he didn't want to rack his hopes up too high, but he felt a flush of excitement just the same. "There might not be carts for you," he reminded. Dulio was ambulatory, and it would a very efficient--a very _Pythian--_thing to send only enough oxcarts for the wounded on the litters.

"Fuck you," the rosy-gold replied, pointing both fingers. "Fuck you sideways twice. I'm riding a cart." He was still grinning, harder than ever. He might even have been snarling. "I'm riding a cart. I don't care if I have to gnaw both legs off at the knee--I am riding a fucking cart!"

Nirez put a gentle hand on his arm and patted. "I'm sure they'll find room for you, at least." He made a mental note that, if Dulio made any attempt at self-harm, he was going to have to learn how to give shots of morphia_real fast_.

"Fucking carts, Nai!" Dulio said happily, and he danced off to inform some others of his deduction.

-We're almost at Lone Pine. I can_smell _Lone Pine. They're waiting for us. They'll have carts, and dragons, and we'll all go home. We made it!

Nirez had to lay a mental hand over his excitement and push it firmly back down. Stop it, you fool. We haven't made it yet. We haven't done anything yet.

-But it's almost over. We're almost home! Can't I just be happy? Not even a little bit?

He wanted to smile, lots more, and shout. Maybe grab the dragon walking next to him and shake the hell out of him and scream, We're going home! I'm so fucking happy! Aren't you fucking happy?

Stop, he told himself, and he did stop, for a moment, and he put both his hands down, as if to physically get on top of the emotion. What if we don't all get home? And anyway, we didn't all make it home. Maybe some of that dragon's friends. And some of my friends. What if Ana doesn't make it home?

Oh, no. Come on, now! The healers had seen to him. Even Leocadio had to admit he might live, and that was from someone who was willing to kill him . . .

_Might live,_Nai thought, groping his muzzle with a hand.

He strode rapidly to the litter, threading his way through a little clot of dragons that had congealed around the edges. "How is he?" he asked, of no one in particular. He caught himself, "How are they?"

"Tired," Bazlio answered weakly, lifting a hand. Ortice only managed a groan. The increase in speed had made no improvement in comfort, despite efforts made at clearing the path.

"Has Ana been awake?" Nai asked.

"Don't think so," Baz said. He shifted and put a hand on the red-gold. Nirez didn't catch any movement, but Baz seemed to have felt something. "Don't think he's dead, either," the silver-green said.

Nirez breathed a little sigh.

"He cries sometimes," Rial said, beside him, softly. "Cries out." The silver looked very small, and his eyes seemed very wide. They were dry, though, and he seemed to be holding up okay. Nirez wondered if he'd had any of Leocadio's . . . Leocadio's whatever-it-was-that-wasn't-really-tea. Nirez wondered if maybe he ought to.

But Bela was nearby, and he slung an arm around the little dragon for support, both mental and physical. Bela could practically carry him that way, and Ree was evidently grateful for it. Exhaustion had tempered his pride.

"It's all the bumps and bangs," the blue-gold said. "They hate it."

Ortice made another low noise and dipped his muzzle in assent.

Nirez flinched his understanding. "I'm sorry, you guys. You know what, though? We're almost at Lone Pine, and they've got carts there. Wheels and everything."

"How do you know?" Bazilo said.

The copper-green smiled, he allowed himself a smile. "Can't you smell it?"

---

He had never thought he'd be so happy to hear the noise of that damn dog. The smell of cowshit had become a constant companion, and members of their dragon escort had been flying back and forth between the litters and Lone Pine for some time now, shouting news and greetings, so the first thing that told him he had arrived at Lone Pine himself was the noise of that damn dog.

The second thing, which registered even before the sight of the oxcarts, was Eladio's voice--loud, jovial, and unashamedly happy to see them, "Hey! It's the Black and Blues!"

Pythians--As a species, Pythians could be very cruel. They prized efficiency, strength and expedience, above all else. The council ruled with a logic so cold and emotionless it was borderline evil. But sometimes, somehow, perhaps by accident alone, a little kindness slipped through the cracks.

They had sent the 3rd.

"You guys are in my cart," Eladio said, ushering them onwards. "I've reserved it. I shan't have anybody else! Where's Ciero? Ciero!" he cried. Nirez watched with bemused interest as Eladio (another flyer and thus tall enough to do it) arrowed in on Ciero's location, slapped a hand between the bronze's legs and lifted him approximately five inches by the testicles. This was known as a "Gotcha!" and was supposedly acceptable as a greeting among intimate friends. Nai and his friends never felt any great need to do that to each other, though. And they_certainly_ never did it to Ciero. The reaction Eladio got was reason enough.

"Fuck you! Get the fuck off me! I hate you!"

Eladio took it all in stride, dodged the blows and backed off to a safe distance. "You love me," he said, grinning. "And you love my canteen." He picked it up in one hand and swished its contents. The sound and the heft of it said it was nearly full.

"The fuck do I want with your fucking canteen?" Ciero shrieked at him. "I _have_a canteen!" He unhooked it and threw it on the ground at Eladio's feet.

"Mine's got liquor in it," Eladio said sweetly. He gave the vessel another shake.

"Give me," Ciero said.

Eladio was teasing, but he didn't tease about this. He handed over his canteen with nothing more than a smile and a nod.

Ciero drew out the stopper and he drank. He drank like it was water, tipping his head back and upending the thing, as if he intended to drain every drop.

Seeing this, Eladio displayed a panicked expression that might have been concern. He forced Ciero's hand back down and made him stop. "Hang on there, Mister Happy. I think you might wanna share that around . . ."

Ciero snatched his hand back and held the canteen away with childish need. "No. Mine."

"Now . . ." said Eladio, but then he stopped. Ciero was frowning at him, but it was a shivery expression with no teeth in it. He looked pathetic, like a little kid with a rag dolly. Like if you tried to get it away from him he was gonna cry. The idea of Ciero, of all dragons,crying, was too painful and just too surreal. Eladio backed off and let him have it. He dismissed his earlier reluctance with a shrug and a snort, "Well, you can have that one, I suppose_that's_ all right." He unslung his pack and deposited it on the ground. Inside were . . . canteens. Nothing but canteens. Four in here and two more in the cart. "Let's see, now. Who else wants some?"

Everyone wanted some. As the healers saw to the wounded and prepared them for transport, the dragons of the 3rd were passing out canteens with warm laughter and welcoming smiles. They couldn't have had so much alcohol just sitting around the bunkroom and waiting for consumption. It must have been purchased especially, and on credit.

Bela and Ree took a canteen and shared it. Cam and Dulio took another. Fio didn't need more liquor, but he needed something, and he stole occasional sips from whoever happened to be near.

Oziel made a shy request as he procured one for Bazlio and himself, "Is it all right if we go with you? In your cart? I don't want to ride with them." He gave a nod towards the red and yellow-gold healers, who were ushering their ambulatory charges into three of the other carts. "I know you said Black and Blues, but it's only two of us . . ."

"Aw," said Eladio, "you look Black and Blue enough to me. If it's all right with the others--"

"Better say yes, dammit!" Baz put in, glaring at them with bandaged eyes.

"--then it's all right with me."

"Yes, dammit!" Cam and Dulio chorused obligingly. Cam toasted him and drank.

"Fuck if I care," Ciero muttered against his canteen.

Nobody else answered, but Oz was already guiding Bazilo into the cart, so three voices was evidently enough.

"Get off me," Baz said. "I can walk damn it. I can't see, but I can walk. Just_point_ me, Goddammit!" Oziel very gently got him pointed in the proper direction and picked a place for him where he could rest against the sideboards.

Eladio put a hand on Nirez's shoulder and gently turned him away from his occupation. "What about you, Nai? Take a minute and have a snort, huh?"

Nai wanted the minute and the booze, but he couldn't take either of them. Painful as it was to admit it, he was still in charge here. "I can't yet, Eladio. Save it for me, will you?"

"I guess," Eladio said. Nirez refusing to ingest intoxicating substances was . . . out of character, to say the least. He looked, and acted, rather different altogether, just enough to be off-putting. Eladio found himself feeling vaguely ashamed for making the offer in the first place. "Anything else you need from me?"

"Walking wounded carry the stretchers?" Nirez offered feebly. A statement made so often it was cliché, and totally inapplicable in this situation. They had plenty of fine dragons to carry the stretchers. Getting them organized was the problem.

"No, we don't need that one. Bazlio can walk, he just . . ." Nai gestured at the cart, not that this dragon could identify Baz by name or by sight. "We don't need that. Just the two. Don't just . . . Please, be very careful. You can't just move him. I'll help you. Dulio!" he called. "Help me. You know how, we have to . . ." It was Ana's wound. Ana's wound was very delicate, very painful, and still seeping blood. The healers had put him back together with a complicated configuration of fine, silk stitching and Nirez feared an unwary touch would tear it so badly it could never be repaired again.

Ana cried out when they lifted him, "Oh--God--stop!" Real words, for the first time in a long time, and with such pain in the inflection that they did stop. Reflexively, they stopped, and they dropped him into the branches of the litter. Ana howled. He couldn't curl up to protect himself. He couldn't thrash to keep them away. He shivered. He shivered like he was dying.

Rial caught his breath in a gasp and began to cry, loud, hard and unashamed. Bela immediately set about trying to hush him.

"Criminey Solstice," Dulio said. That was one of Bela's. Even _Bela_hardly said that anymore. It went all the way back to when they were kids.

"We'll do it," some dragon--some strange dragon--behind him said. "You don't have to . . ."

"Don't touch him!" Nirez snarled at them.

They did not touch him. They backed away.

Nai pawed into his med kit with shaking hands. It took him several tries to get the case out and he dropped it when he did. Then he couldn't get the damn thing open. It was a simple latch that could be undone with a single, deft twist of the fingers and he couldn't get it open. Someone reached out a hand to help him and he slapped it. "Get away from me!"

"Nirez," Leocadio said, "at least let me . . ."

"Don't you dare touch him! You wanted to kill him! Get away!"

He opened the case and he dropped it again. The vials and the syringe were held secure and they did not roll out on to the ground. The healers had wanted to kill him. The healers had wanted to use this medicine to kill him, and he did not want them anywhere near it. Stilling his hands,demanding that they be still, he began to work the needle into the barrel.

"Wait, I've a glass one," Leocadio said.

"I don't want it," Nai said. "I don't want anything of yours." His kit was a medic's kit, with everything inside designed to be sturdy and secure. The vials of morphia were glass, they had to be, but the syringe was unbreakable steel.

Leocadio smacked him on the back of his head, hard enough to shake him somewhat to his senses. "Oh, don't be stupid." He held out his hand and offered the glass syringe, already assembled, utterly empty and without menace, a mere tool.

Nirez took it, frowning.

"Do you even know how to do this?"

"No, but I'm not going to let you."

Leocadio sighed. "One vial is a scant dose. I can tell you how to measure for weight, but I don't suppose you'd believe me right now."

"No."

"Right. Well, one vial ought to get him into the cart. It won't be too much, anyway, if that's what you're worried about." It was and they both knew it, so the healer didn't wait for Nai to say it. "Hold the vial upside-down, so the seal is at the bottom and the air is at the top. You don't want to draw any air. Put the needle through the seal and draw back on the plunger. Hold it up to the light. Look for bubbles. Flick it. No, with your fingers. Like you're trying to get snot off your fingers. Smartly! Like that. Now push in the plunger until some liquid comes out of the tip. You're going to lose a little medicine, but that's all right . . ."

"Like this?"

"Hold it up to the light and let me see it. Yeah. You're all right to give that to him. Do you know how to find a vein?"

"Yes," said Nirez, but not with much confidence. He had done it and he had seen it done, but he had never made the puncture or attempted to deliver medicine.

"Do you want me to--"

"No," said Nirez. Leocadio might have been attempting to help him, in fact he was almost certain that was the case, but if any of the healers,any of them, made a move towards Ana, Nai was going to put_teeth_ in them. It might not be the cleverest thing to do and he might have been sorry later, but he knew himself and he knew he would do it whether it was clever or not.

He put his fingers against Ana's throat and felt along the line of his jaw for the stubborn pulse that still remained. Ana made a quiet groan and turned away from his touch, which made it easier. Nai found his pulse and followed it down. Before the healer could make any more suggestions, any motion, or any further attempts at aid, Nirez drew his hand back and plunged the needle in--straight down, hard and sure.

"Mother of God," said Dulio. He sounded rather far.

"That's an artery!" Leocadio shrieked at him. That was louder, and nearer. Nirez blinked and looked up. "That's not a vein, that's an artery!"

"There's a difference?" Nai said thickly.

Leocadio said, "Gluck." He opened his mouth and closed it without speaking. He flung a frustrated gesture and shook his head. "I guess there's no difference that matters now! No!" He motioned again, staring wide-eyed at the needle sticking sideways out of the dragon's neck. It was deep enough in that it probably could've stood up on its own. "D-don't just sit there gawping at it! Draw back on the plunger and see if you have it!"

Nirez did so silently, obediently. A thin blossom of blood stained the liquid in the glass chamber.

"Fuck me," the healer said. "All right. Do it, then. Go."

Ana made a sound. Not words again but a sound. His hands came up a few inches and went back down. Nai hoped it didn't hurt him. Maybe it just felt cold. He thought maybe he'd heard somewhere that morphia felt cold.

Leocadio was beside him with the necessary supplies, shouting at him to put a bandage on that, before Nai could even think of withdrawing the needle. It came out hard, almost like a blade. He cleaned it but he didn't put it away. "How long?" he asked, his head bowed.

"Like that?" the red-gold healer said. "Not long. I'd say try it already if he wasn't a friend of yours."

You said we should kill him, too, Nai thought. And if we hadn't been his friends, you would have done it. It didn't make him angry now, just cold. Colder than morphia.

"That's enough time," Leocadio said. "Hey. You two." The dragons' attention had wandered. Not that they hadn't been paying attention, rapt attention, but they had rather forgotten they were supposed to be putting the wounded on stretchers. Leocadio snapped his fingers as if bringing them out of a trance. "Hey, let's go. Are you helping or aren't you? Move your tails!"

It had a similar effect on Nirez. He put the syringe in the box and got back to his feet. "Here, I'll help you with him. Be careful with him."

They were careful with him. They moved him like very old, terribly delicate furniture. They neither scraped, dented or dropped him, and he did not cry out. Ree and Bela scrambled into the cart after him and planted themselves on either side of the stretcher, protecting Ana's body from the menace of unwary dragon limbs. Nirez went back to the litter with the stretcher bearers to collect Ortice.

"Ortice, do you want . . . ?"

"Uh-uh," the mottled silver said, wide eyed. "Uh-uh!"

Oh, my. He'd taken enough breath to say it twice. He must have been terribly certain about it. He didn't even let Nirez get the word out.

"Don't touch his side," Nai directed. "That . . . Just that whole side of him is fucked up. Grab his legs."

They lifted him.

Ortice cried out, "Shot! Shot! Shot!"

Three times.

They didn't drop him, but they put him back down very quickly. Nirez went looking for where he'd left the needle.

Leocadio met him there and practically screamed at him, "Wait! I'll show you how to do it in his arm! Let me show you how to do it in his arm!"

After some fervent negotiation, Ortice consented to receiving his shot in the arm, with minimal assistance from the red-gold healer. Administered in less-dramatic a fashion, it was some minutes before the effects became known.

"Oh, fuck me, I can breathe," the mottled silver said. For a few moments he simply did so, losing his pallor somewhat. "I wish you'd done that ages ago."

"Sorry," Nai said, gazing into his kit. There was no particular thing that he needed, but he felt too ashamed to look up. He had a lot of morphia, and the healers had brought more. He could have done that ages ago. He could've done it several times and prevented the pain of Ortice's crushed chest from stopping his breath. He could've quieted Ana. He could've traded some with Stitch or even just shared it . . .

He didn't know he could have done all that. He didn't know that Ciero would bring the healers and get them home so quickly. But that didn't make it any better. That didn't make it okay.

"S'all right," Ortice replied, oblivious, and with much less need to be conservative with his words. "All right, fellas, let's get this fucked up show on the road."

While all this was going on the other dragons were indeed, with varying levels of concern and success, getting the show on the road. Ortice wasn't the last one loaded into a cart, but there weren't many more. Not all of the dragons would be riding. Their escort, having only spent the day walking, were expected to shift for themselves. Some of the ambulatory wounded were milling about with them--talking, filling canteens, taking a quick piss or tending other needs. Ciero had been drinking ever since Eladio gave him the canteen. He had no taste for food or water and by the time they were ready to go he was high as a fucking kite. Dulio, who badly needed employment after that business with Ana, was following him around and making him laugh. Following Nirez, they were the last two in Eladio's cart before someone thumped the back gate closed and called a start. Ciero was beyond shame, almost beyond coherence, and Dulio had all his attention and his ire.

"Stop it! Oh, you fucking bastard, why won't you stop? Stop looking at me!" Ciero aimed a shove at him but it was a weak one and it did little good. All Dulio had to do at this point was lean in very close and make big, cow eyes at him and it would set him off all over again.

"Dulio . . ." Nai said, very gently, and he was smiling. It was good that Ciero was with them again, and good to be moving, but the rosy-gold was too lit himself to show any kind of restraint.

"What? Me? I'm not doin' anything. Anyone can see me, I'm not doin' anything. Look at him. Crazy bastard. He wants to. I'm not even sayin' anything funny. I'll prove it. Ciero?"

"Oh, God," Ciero said. He looked deliberately away. "Please . . ."

"Why'd the chicken cross the road?"

There were answering groans from many places in the cart, but Ciero could not manage even that. He was grinning, widely, and had both hands clamped over his muzzle to stop the sounds. "Eeee . . ." He wanted to laugh at that, even that. "T'git," he managed, through clenched teeth, "t'other side?"

"T'see a dragon lay bricks," Dulio replied, with absolutely null inflection.

Ciero shrieked and leaned helplessly on the side of the cart, "Oh, you fucking bastard!"

"It's not funny!" the rosy-gold cried, hands spread before him. "It's not even funny! I could read him tactics. His brain's gone. There's something seri'ssly wrong with him. I'm 'cerned about 'im. This is my 'cerned face." It was a drunken grin.

Ciero did not even dare to look at him. Not that did did much good. "Stop it! Stop it, I'm gonna puke!"

"Oh, for God's sakes, Dulio," Cam put in. "Don't make him puke in the fucking cart."

"He's not gonna puke in the fuckin' cart. He's got ex'lent . . . Ex'lent cons'tution. Don't you? Ciero? Ciero . . . ?"

Just then Ciero dropped his head and puked. In the fuckin' cart.

Cam saw it and_smelled_ it and puked. In the fuckin' cart.

And everybody else, who had a talent for it, scrambled for the sideboards and leaned over, gasping for fresher air and hoping to avoid the dreaded mass rainbow yawn of doom.

"You guys all right back there?" Eladio called to them from the front. "You need a stop?"

"No!" the whole lot of them cried, as one body. "No, don't stop the cart! Keep going!"

"Get us home!" Ciero said, though he couldn't straighten up and he could hardly speak. "Damn it, get us home!"

"Sure thing," Eladio replied, turning back to the driver.

Dulio sat blinking, in a state of absolute shock. He did not move, speak, or make any other attempts at hilarity for the rest of the trip.

Though he privately felt sorry for the dragon, Nirez found the ensuing silence to be well worth the mess. There was plenty of straw in the cart, anyway, some of it still baled. They just threw a little more of it around.

The rocking motion of the cart and the rumble of the wheels beneath them was soothing. With no others insisting on conversation, they dozed.

Morphia made a fine pillow for Ana and Ortice. Alcohol made an excellent painkiller (or sedative, or narcotic, or some other word Nai didn't know). Without any great demands on his skill (such as it was) Nirez leaned against a straw bale and rested his eyes in the palm of his hand. He didn't sleep, not really sleep. He didn't think. Sometimes he would bring his head up and look around. If somebody spoke sharply. If there was a particularly jarring bump. He took reality in little snatches and the hours ran into each other like candle wax. It was longer to ride home than to fly, and most of the day was eaten away just riding and resting. It was good to rest. It was good not to think. It was something they all needed very badly.

There were no stops, at least not any that Nai could remember. They ate out of their packs, those that felt like it. Rial, of all people, succeeded in getting Ciero to take in some biscuits, by opening the packet for him and offering them individually. Cam and Bela altogether abstained, which probably meant they were feeling nauseous, but Nai didn't have any medicine for that--or, if he did have some, he didn't know what it looked like or what it was called, and the result was much the same. The copper-green himself indulged in an occasional cracker and sipped water, while the others, even Ciero, kept nipping at the liquor and passed it around.

As the light filtered into the golden spectrum of late afternoon, somebody started to sing, and soon they were all doing it. Dirty songs, drinking songs, squad songs, even children's songs--when they started to run out of material. By the time they pulled into the fortress proper the light was pale lavender and fading and they had repeated some of them five or six times over.

They had to go in via the shit gate, what with the carts and oxen and all, and they arrived with no great fanfare and some complaint.

"Honestly?" Cam said, breathing into his cupped palm. "Couldn't they have let us in the front? They could've let us out and brought the cows around. . ."

"I think it's closer to the infirmary," Nirez offered gently. He didn't mind the shit gate, and in fact found it a welcome and comforting sight, despite the attendant odors. Maybe because of them. He often pulled duty at Shit Gate, either because of some screw up of his own or because Ciero had done something, and Nai didn't want him coming down here without anybody he liked to talk to. Shit Gate was smelly, and you had to shovel the shit, and you got splashback when you dumped it into the sewer (and there were frequent clogs to deal with, Shit Gate being the last stop for dragon effluvia before exiting the fortress entirely) but it was not altogether disagreeable. You could feed the animals, if you cadged some apples from the dining hall beforehand, and without much danger of invasion (Who would attack through the shit gate, honestly?) you could drink or nap or get high or whatever you liked.

Beyond all that, Shit Gate now meant home and safety and Nirez didn't care what it smelled like.

There were, perhaps understandably, no dragons awaiting them with comfort, hospitality or medicine at the shit gate. The oxen got a bigger welcome, being fed and watered and groomed and unhitched. There was a pair of guards, a yellow-gold who wouldn't quit giggling and a more-sober silver-green, who informed the rest of them through cupped hands: "Walking wounded this way! Stretcher-bound, direct to the infirmary! Walking-wounded this way!"

The healers, the_real_ healers, accompanied the stretcher-bound. Nirez found himself mixed in with the walking wounded and nobody made any effort to extricate him. Maybe it was because he was stupid and they didn't need him anymore. Maybe it was because he was tired and they figured he had done enough. Maybe it was because he was wounded, and he was walking. Maybe it was because Ree dragged him aside and began making demands of him as soon as they climbed out of the cart.

"Nirez, don't let them take Ana! Nirez, don't let them take Ana!"

"Ree, it's all right!" he said. "There's no more killing. They'd have to sue for it now. We're home."

"Why wouldn't they kill him? How can you even say that? You were there!"

"Ree . . ." Nirez sighed. Ree was drunk. And paranoid. Nai put both hands on the silver's shoulders, crouched a little to speak to him, smiled and lied, "Leocadio's with them. We're great friends now. He was very impressed with me. He wants to train me up and everything."

"Train you up to what?" Rial asked, peering at him.

"Anyway, I asked him to take extra special care of Ana and make sure nobody hurts him. So that's all right, isn't it?

"Oh," Ree said. "I--" He wobbled a little, tried to shift his weight to his bad ankle, and went down with a cry.

"Ah, geez, Ree," Nai said. He bent and helped the dragon to his feet. "Come on, now. You need looking at. Let me help you."

"Bela was helpin' me . . . I don't want you to help me, you're too little." That was patently ridiculous but Nai ignored it. He found Bela off to one side, staring narrowly at an ox in one of the stalls.

"Here, Bela, help us with Ree, won't you?"

"Nai . . . ?" said Bela."Why's a cow?"

"We're at Shit Gate, Bela."

"What're we doing at Shit Gate?"

"Leaving," Nai replied, collecting him as well. "Come on, it's this way."

"What is?"

"Triage," Nai said. "Come on, let's find the others. I hope they're not as bad as you."

---

They weren't as bad as Bela, but they weren't much help, either. Nai was the only one equipped to handle Ree. Ciero and Dulio couldn't walk straight and Bela kept wandering off. As a result they arrived well behind the others, and for a moment it looked like there wouldn't be anyone available to see them.

The long hallway leading to the infirmary had become a gauntlet of medical science. Here were dragons handing out pills, syrups and powdered medicines. There were dragons with plaster and linen setting bones. Another station was binding wounds and putting in stitches. Near the infirmary door was the final challenge, a station staffed by a couple of nurses who were allowing in only those with written permission for a bed. And everywhere, everywhere, dragons were being poked and prodded and commanded in different directions, and sometimes in multiple directions at once. There were only a couple of real doctors. The rest of the tasks were being performed by nurses and squad medics and even some dragons with no training at all.

"Well," someone said, rather nearer and louder than the rest. "I was wondering if you'd made it. Anyone seen to you, yet?"

"Oh, hey, it's, uh," Bela said. "It's, uh . . ." He pointed and snapped his fingers, as if commanding the name to appear before him.

Nirez had it--he should have had it, anyway--he just couldn't actually get it from his brain to his mouth. He almost said, "Nace." No, no, not Nace, but he had everything to do with Nace. A young dragon, younger even than Fio. Skinny. They called him that, sometimes, but that wasn't the name. It was hard to remember. Maybe he didn't want to remember. That time . . .

Dulio at last supplied it, "Sidro! Hey, fella. What're you doing here?"

"Drugs," the silver-blue replied. "And whatever else needs doing. They knew there were going to be a lot of you, so they called everyone in . . . It doesn't help matters that you're all fucking drunk."

Ciero turned on the dragon and snarled, "Now, I am not drunking fuck!"

Dulio snorted and brayed laughter, and that set them all off. Rial laughed so hard he fell down.

"Hoop!" the silver said. "Hoop!"

Ciero . . . was not entirely sure what he had said, but he seemed to have some inkling that it was funny. He held his dramatic pose and proudly lifted his muzzle, while a smile played around the corners of his mouth.

Nirez didn't laugh. He didn't feel even a little bit like laughing. He felt tired, and a little bit sick. Sidro. Yeah. Sidro knew some medicine. He was able to care for Nace, that one time, and he'd been able to pick the good drugs out of the random sack of bottles they'd stolen from the infirmary. He was the only one of them who could stop Nace from crying. He was a good dragon. Sidro.

Nai felt . . . a little bit . . . off. He sat down next to Rial, not entirely of his own volition, but it seemed a good place to be. "Ree," he said thickly. He clasped the silver's arm and tried to help him a bit. "C'mon, Ree . . ."

"Oh, that's all right," Sidro broke in. "Let him sit a minute. That leg looks awful." Sidro knelt and had a look at it, undoing the pressure bandage with careful fingers.

"Oo," said Ree, with a wince.

"Broken," Nai said. He cleared his throat and tried to steady his voice. "He broke his ankle. It's a broken ankle. He jumped in a ditch to get out of the . . ."

"It's just a sprain," Rial replied.

"Is it, now?" Sidro said. "Can you move your toes?"

Rial did not attempt to do this. He frowned and turned his muzzle away.

"Hurts, does it? How about here?"

"Ow!" Rial yelped and brought his fist down on the flat of Sidro's muzzle, hard. Sidro accepted that with quiet grace and re-wrapped the dragon's foot.

"You're getting a hard cast," he said. "That's just over there. Can you make it that far?"

"I don't want one," Rial said. He nevertheless accepted the silver-blue's aid in getting back to his feet. "I don't need one."

"No, of course you don't need one, but you're gonna go get one anyway . . ."

"I'm not!"

" . . . and we're not gonna have an argument over it. You watch me, now. I'm gonna say the magic words, and then you're gonna hobble on over there and get yourself a nice, hard cast. Are you ready? Listen to me. Are you listening?" He bent his muzzle and forced Rial to look him in the eyes. "If you get a hard cast, you might be able to walk around without a crutch."

Rial frowned thunderously, shoved him away, and proceeded to limp his way across the hall to get a hard cast.

"Hey, presto," Sidro said mildly. "Who's next, then? Let's have a look at you . . ."

"Me?" said Nirez. He was sitting where Ree had been sitting, and after the dragon's departure he found himself utterly bereft of purpose. It showed in his posture, limp and sprawled, and it showed in his expression.

"Blow on the head?" Sidro asked him with one brow raised. There was a mild irony in his voice that said he might have been kidding, or he might not have.

"No, that's me!" Bela volunteered.

"I'm just tired," Nai said. Sidro tried to help him up off the floor and he found it rather more difficult than it should have been. "I'm just tired," Nai said. His hands were shaking and he folded them under his wings. Sidro. Nace. That time with Nace. "I'm just . . ."

"Tired. Right. I got it." Sidro handled him gently, checking his bandages and reviewing his clumsy stitchwork. "Okay. I think you'll be all right for tonight, but you should come back tomorrow when you're rested up and have a real doctor look at you. You can have a sleeping draught if you want one." He nodded to the dragons who were passing out medicine.

"Oh, okay," Nai said. He made no move to go get one, but he did back off so that Sidro could apply his attention elsewhere. "I'll go in a little," he said, but he was already being ignored.

Nace, he thought. Sidro made him better, but then he wouldn't come out of the corner. He wouldn't talk to them, or look at them, or come out of the corner at all . . .

Ciero got much the same advice. His arm was mending, and it didn't look bad enough to require immediate attention, so he was prescribed sleep, and whatever medicine was necessary to get him there. Dulio took one look at Sidro and said, "Drunking fuck!" He dissolved into laughter again.

Sidro took one look at Dulio and said, "Stitches."

That shut him up.

"Aw. C'mon. No. Really?" He touched his shoulder and poked at the injury with a claw.

"For your mouth," Sidro said. He smiled, just slightly. "I guess the shoulder will be all right, but that's only 'cos there's a big line at the stitches place. Let me bind it up again. You come back in the morning and let the healers have a look at that mouth of yours, though."

Dulio cackled at him. Sidro shook his muzzle and hid his eyes in his hand. He turned to address Nai and Ciero, "You two, you know him. Does he need more drugs or less?"

"More!" cried Dulio.

"Death threats," Ciero suggested. Nai just shrugged. The tall bronze took more decisive action and clamped his free hand over Dulio's face.

"Nnn!" the rosy-gold said.

"Shut up and let him have a look at Bela," Ciero replied.

"Blow on the head?" Sidro asked him.

"Yessir," Bela replied and nodded.

Sidro turned and asked the others, "Pretty bad? Does he wander?"

"Oh, yeah," Ciero said.

"Mm," said Sidro. "That'll get you a bed. I'll hafta have someone write you a chit . . ."

"Aw," said Dulio. He fought off Ciero's hand and spoke more sensibly, "You don't hafta do that. We'll look after him . . ."

"No you won't," the silver-blue replied. "I saw the other one come in, the red-gold. You're all gonna be back up here looking after him, and don't try to tell me different."

"Yeah," Dulio said.

"Yeah," Ciero said.

Nirez turned his muzzle away and spoke very softly into the palm of his hand, "He wouldn't come out of the corner." He scrubbed both hands over his face and then clutched them against his chest. He shouldn't have said it. It hurt to say it. He didn't mean to say it.

"Ana," he said. "A-Ana . . . You saw him? Was he all right?"

Sidro dipped his muzzle and stumbled back a pace. "Well . . . I mean . . . Alive," he said finally. He shook his head. "I don't know. I've seen worse."

"Yeah," Nai said and swallowed. "Sure you have."

Nace. That time with Nace.

Sidro had finally got him to come out of the corner. Because Sidro was a good dragon, a kind dragon, and he was good at that sort of thing. And they went back to see him. Not all of them at once because . . . because that would've been too much and maybe he would go away again. But they . . . And Nai . . .

But Nace had shouted at him.

He said, "Go away." He said, "Go away. Go away. Go away," and he wouldn't say why. Even after he said it was okay again he wouldn't say why . . .

And he wouldn't look at me.

"I think he hates me," Nai said. "I-I think . . . I think he hates me. I think he hates me!"

He was standing, alone, in some place. Somewhere with lots of dragons and lights and noises and voices and he didn't want any of it. He scuttled back against the wall and when he couldn't get away any further he sank down low and tried to hide himself in the ninety-degree join between the wall and the floor.

Maybe he hates me because I couldn't help Ana. Maybe he hates me because I couldn't save Merced . . .

That couldn't be, and yet . . . He didn't know anymore. He chewed his claws, bit hard so that it hurt and he didn't care.

"Nai?" said Dulio. "Nai . . . ? Hey. What the hell are you doing? Don't do that. Hey . . ." He pulled Nai's hands down and held them.

Nirez stared at him, stared through him. "He shuh . . . He shuh . . . He shouted at me. He shouted at me!" He fisted his hands and began to shriek. He was crying, but he didn't sob. He screamed.

"Nai?" said Dulio. "Holy shit! Nai!"

There had been several smaller breakdowns that evening, along with cries of pain and fever and other noises, but nothing at this intensity or at this_volume_. All at once there were multiple dragons shouting at them to shut him up or get him the fuck out of there. Shutting him up was not an option. He was so loud Dulio was afraid to stifle him, afraid he might explode. And they couldn't get him to stand up and walk. When they pulled him upright his legs wouldn't lock in.

"He wouldn't say why! I came back and said sorry, I said sorry, I said sorry--but he wouldn't say why! I brought him . . . I brought him something to eat, because he was so thin and he was so sick . . . And it was okay . . . It was okay . . . But then he started, he started screaming at me . . . He was so mad, he was so mad, but I didn't do anything and he wouldn't say why! He said . . . He said . . . He said, 'Go away!' He never . . . He never . . . He never, ever, ever . . ."

"The fuck is he on about?" Dulio cried. "Ciero? Do you know?"

The tall bronze dropped his muzzle and shook it. "Huh-uh."

"Help me with him, would you? Holy crap on a stale cracker, he won't even stand!"

They were, between the two of them, able to drag him out of the hall. "C'mon, Nai," the rosy-gold pleaded with him. "C'mon, Nai. C'mon, Nai . . ."

"He shouted at me!" the copper shrieked.

"Where are we taking him?" Ciero said. "Dulio?"

"Bunkroom?" Dulio said. That was where he was taking Nai. He had no idea what Ciero had in mind.

"We can't take him to the bunkroom like this! It's full of fucking sick people!"

"I took a sleeping draught," Dulio said. He held up the packets. "Two of 'em."

"Oh, brilliant," Ciero said. "Well done. Those need water, you fucking retard. Hot water! You snag any hot water on the way out?"

Dulio thought on that for a moment, frowning. They allowed Nirez to slide to the floor, where he curled into a little ball.

"Dining hall?" Dulio offered. "There's always water out for tea . . ."

"You wanna drag him all the way to the dining hall? There's stairs!"

"No! _You_go to the dining hall and get water and bring it back here!"

"I haven't a teacup," Ciero said.

"Nick one!" Dulio screamed at him.

---

Nai? C'mon, Nai. C'mon, Nai . . .

Nirez turned his muzzle away and buried it in his arms. "No, no, no . . . Oh, no . . . Oh, no . . ."

"No, honey. Just sip a little. Sip. Come on."

"He shouted . . . He shouted . . ."

"I know. I know. I don't know what in the hell you mean by it, but I know. It's all right now. Sip."

Nai sipped. It was warm, like tea, but strangely bitter. A sleeping draught.

The cup was warm and he wanted to hold it. He wanted to put both hands around it and hold it against his chest and drink, but Dulio wouldn't let him have it. He cried a little but he couldn't make his tongue ask for the cup.

Dulio told him to drink and he drank and that was a little better.

"I want," he managed at last, no longer crying. "I want to hold it. It's warm."

Dulio had to think what he meant for a minute, but it wasn't too hard to figure out, not like all that business with the shouting. He gave Nai the cup. It was empty, but it was still warm.

Nirez sighed. There were no more thoughts of Ana, no more of Sidro or Nace. No more Tal, no more Fio, no more Merced. He got to hold a teacup and that was all he ever wanted. He was happy now.

He slept.

---

All around him there were sounds of sleeping, and soft discomfort. It was dark here, not entirely, but more than it should have been.

Where's the fire? Nai wondered as he groped around him for his kit. His claws found a feather pillow. He clutched it and stared at it, uncomprehending. In the darkness it seemed ludicrously white and perfect. Almost obscene.

Ciero came out of the darkness and stood staring at him, eyes glinting in the faint light. One arm was bound against him, the other folded up with it as best as he could manage. He was feeling irritable, trying to warn without saying it. He looked like a broken umbrella, awkward, useless, even silly. "Well?" he said. "Are you all done now or are you going to start over again?"

"Oh," said Nai. He hugged the pillow against him. He remembered. Not everything, but he remembered crying. A lot. He closed his eyes and turned his muzzle away.

"I know why he shouted at you," Ciero said.

"Whaaat?" said Nai. His head came up, his eyes widened, and he tried to gather himself together so quickly that he nearly fell out of the bed. "Oh, God. Please, tell me. Please!"

The tall bronze shook his muzzle. "If I tell you, you can't ever tell. Ever. Because I promised I wouldn't."

"I won't," said Nai. "I swear I won't! I . . . I . . ." He flinched. He was stupid, sometimes. Too fast and too eager. He couldn't always vouch for his tongue. "If . . . If I told someone on accident, would you hate me?"

Ciero sighed, both exhausted and defeated. He shook his head again. "No. I couldn't hate you. But I'd have to try. So, don't." He lifted his eyes and pointed a finger, "Don't."

"I won't," Nai said, softer now. He hugged his pillow and tucked his knees up under his chin. "I promise I won't."

Ciero plunked down next to him on the bed, shifted his tail and furled his wings. Softly, so that no one else might hear or even wake, he told him.

"Oh, God," said Nai. He covered his mouth and made it be quiet, made it close. It all made sense now. The shouting, and Ciero. That dark male--Ciero had wanted to kill him. Nai wanted to kill him, now, too, but he mustn't do that . . . He mustn't even breathe a word of what he'd been told or Nace would be so hurt--and Ciero, too.

Ciero had . . .trusted him. Ciero had trusted him not to hurt him. Ciero didn't trust anybody to do that. Ciero lived in constant terror of everyone, anyone--even his best friends--turning on him and hurting him. Nai knew this, even if he couldn't understand it. Ciero had trusted him.

Nirez fell against him, hugged him, clung. "Thank you. Thank you for telling me. I won't tell anybody. Never, ever. I'd rather die."

I love you,_Nai thought. _I love you. I love you.

Ciero did not push him away, and Nai could feel the effort of will it cost him. He tensed up, but he knew he was tensing up--he knew he did it every single time, and he was trying not to, just this once. He was trying so hard he was shaking. Nai let him go. It was cruel to make Ciero do that.

The tall bronze stood and took a few paces away, fussily rearranging his wings. "The others are with Ana," he said, "and Bela. Dulio said one of us had to keep an eye on you. I said I would. You're all right now, so I'm going to go. Are you coming or aren't you?"

"Oh, yes!" Nai said, and this time he did fall out of bed. He tossed his pillow aside and scrabbled to his feet. "I'm coming. I'll come. I want to see them . . ." He was skipping from one foot to another, practically dancing, taking three tiny steps to each of Ciero's long ones. He wanted to run. He wanted to shout. "They'll all be so much better! Oh, I'm so glad we're home now. The healers will fix everything! I screwed everything up, I got everything wrong, but--"

Ciero stopped dead, turned backward and gaped at him. Nirez skidded sideways, trying not to bang into him, and ran himself into the wall, "--Uh!"

The bronze brought absent fingers to his muzzle. He tapped them there, weighing each word as he spoke, "You're stupid, aren't you? I mean, you really are completely stupid, aren't you? You brought us through all that hell . . . Kept him alive, kept us alive, and you've no idea what you've done. You're exactly the same. You're not proud of yourself. You don't think you're clever, you don't act like you're special. You've gone right back where you started. Just . . . completely stupid."

"Oh, yes!" said Nirez, laughing now, grinning. "I know it! But, oh, Ciero--I am so happy, too!"