FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

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Chapter One Hundred Five

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Dawn painted the waking world in shades of golden fire. Revaramek stared at the small pond in Mirelle’s garden, watching the sunrise’s reflection transmute water into molten radiance. Fatigue weighed heavily on the dragon. Bleariness clouded his vision. He’d hardly slept. Today was the day the healers were to attend Nyra’s wound.

The two dragons had arrived in Mirelle’s back garden well before dawn. The Chief Healer had requested to examine Nyramyn first thing in the morning. That way, there was plenty of time for any procedures deemed necessary. Revaramek suspected the city’s surgeons would have to excise the inflamed tissues before Nyra’s wound could fully heal. Mirelle agreed, and offered The Cathedral and its grounds to serve as a dragon infirmary for as long as was required.

“Isn’t it strange?” Nyramyn snuggled against Revaramek’s side, beneath his wing. She gazed at the fiery hues dancing upon the water. “It still seems so foreign.”

Revaramek flattened his ears. “What does? The sunlight?” He glanced towards the sky, flight membranes flicking shut across his eyes to protect them from the glare. “Are you still adjusting to its brightness?”

Nyramyn nosed at the emerald scales of his neck. “That’s not what I meant. The sunlight is beautiful!” Ever so slowly, she pointed a single finger towards the center of the pond. There, a fat green frog with crimson spots sat atop a lily pad. It stared back at them, its throat twitching. “I meant, that thing is strange.”

Revaramek snorted. “The frog?”

“Yes!” Nyra set her paw down. “It’s so weird looking.”

“You’ve seen frogs before, Nyra.” Revaramek rumbled his amusement. “Hell, Korakos ate one yesterday.”

Nyramyn shrugged her pale green wings. “That doesn’t mean I’m used to seeing them. I’d never imagined a sting-toad without a stinger!”

“They’re not sting-toads, Nyra, they’re-”

“I know, I know.” Nyra tossed her head. “And a good thing for you, too, considering your incredible ability to somehow get stung on the nose every time we saw one.”

“Not every time,” Revaramek said.

Nyra nudged him with her muzzle again. “I suppose that’s true. There was the time you were stung on the ear, instead. Still not sure how you managed that.”

Revaramek winced at the memory, ear throbbing in sympathy. “Nor am I.”

“You know, Water Ally Revaramek…” Nyramyn flicked her tail tip several times before settling it across his own. “It’s a wonder you survived long enough to find and surrender to me in the first place.”

“That it is.” Revaramek gently licked her cheek. “And I certainly would not have survived that swamp without you.”

“No,” Nyra said, leaning into his affection. “You would not have.” She lifted her forepaw, idly gesturing with it. “I, on the other hand, would survive this world just fine on my own.”

Revaramek grunted, nosing at her ear frill. “That’s hardly a fair comparison.” He licked it, earning a happy little trill. “This world is vastly more survivable than the swamp.”

Nyramyn shrugged her wings against his. “Not my problem. Luckily for you, I still enjoy talking circles around you. It gives me a reason to keep you around, when you’re no longer needed.”

Revaramek growled, a playful sound. He bumped her ear with his muzzle. “Surely, there’s at least one reason to keep me around, other than belittling me.”

Nyramyn tilted her head, glancing down along Revaramek’s underbelly. “If you’re talking about that,” she said, giggling to herself. “Then no. That’s definitely not worth keeping you around for.”

Revaramek gave a mock gasp, pressing a paw to his chest. “Ouch, Nyra. My pride!”

“Is that where your pride is?” Nyramyn arched her neck, grinning at him. “And here I thought your pride was what I was belittling. And from this angle…” She gazed down between his hind legs again. “Little does seem like the right word.”

Revaramek snapped his teeth. “You certainly weren’t complaining back in the swamp!”

“That’s simply because yours was the only one available to me.” Nyra snuggled up under his wing again. “Now that I’ve got a whole new world to explore, I can try out all the other males until I find one who really satisfies me.”

“Oh, very well.” Revaramek hung his head. “I’ll watch Korakos while you go and romp with all the more impressive males.”

Nyra nuzzled his jaw. “Don’t sulk. Tell you what. While I’m away, I’ll allow you to have some fun with your former slave mistress. Even yours ought to impress a human female.” She scrunched her muzzle. “Probably.”

“Oh, gods,” Revaramek said, laughing. “If I even suggested as much to Mirelle, she’d purchase every pair of boots in town just to try them out on me.”

Nyramyn laughed with him. “Oh, that sounds entertaining!” She lifted her frills, flashing Revaramek a wicked smile. “Perhaps I’ll ask her to do that to entertain me while I recuperate.”

Revaramek shifted his weight, swallowing. “But then who would take care of you while I’m recuperating?”

Nyramyn scratched her neck with a wing-tip talon, her frills slowly settling. “You make a fair point.”

“I know!” Revaramek slapped a forepaw against the ground. “We’ll have her kick the gryphons, instead.”

Nyramyn giggled, a happy, melodious sound. “Oh, I bet they’d make a squawk!” She rested her head against his, smiling. “However, considering they’re watching Korakos for us, we’d best stay on their good side.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Revaramek patted her forepaw. “We can always have Mirelle order them to serve as his guardians.”

“Oh?” Nyra licked her nose. “Was she their slave driver, too?”

“You know, my love,” Revaramek said, returning the affection. “Some days I still can’t tell whether you’re teasing me, or asking serious questions.”

“Just the way I like it.” Nyra lifted her head, looking towards the large, steeple-topped building looming nearby. “Speaking of your slave mistress, here she comes now.”

Revaramek followed Nyra’s gaze. Mirelle walked a trail in the grass that skirted around a long line of pine trees. Though her dark hair was tied behind her head with a golden ribbon, it still fluttered in the breeze. She fidgeted with the long sleeves of her black and silver blouse. Revaramek wondered if she was just as nervous as he was. As she stopped near them, the fatigued that darkened her eyes told him she hadn’t slept much, either.

Mirelle offered the two of them a smile. “They’re ready for her.” She wrung her hands, then idly wiped them against her ebon-hued trousers. “But tell Nyra there’s no hurry.”

Revaramek nodded, his belly twisting into cold knots. “Thank you, Mirelle.” He nosed at Nyra’s ear. “Mirelle says-”

“I know what she says.” Nyramyn slipped out from under his wing, pushing up to her feet.

Revaramek perked his ears. “You understood that?”

“Her words?” Nyra shook her head. “No. But it’s not hard to guess.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slow. “We’ve sat here, staring at frogs long enough. Let us get this over with.” She stepped towards Mirelle, then smiled at Revaramek over her wings. “And thank you for the pleasant distraction while we waited, my love.”

Revaramek stared at Nyramyn in silence. Pride swelled his heart, threatening to fill his bleary eyes with tears. She was so strong, he thought. Even as her body slowly failed her, her heart grew ever stronger. Every fear she had, she found a way to face it with a smile. Revaramek would never not be proud of her.

“You’re ever so welcome, Nyra.” He joined her, and then bowed his head to Mirelle. “Lead the way, please.”

Mirelle turned back towards the tavern. “How’s Korakos doing?”

“Better than I am,” Revaramek said, chuckling. “Lucky little whelp slept all night long! I scarcely managed a moment’s worth of dreams. I’d have been pacing if I didn’t have my wings around her…” He inclined his head towards Nyramyn. “I think I’m more nervous than she is.”

Nyramyn nosed him. “Tell Mirelle that you’re even more nervous than I am!”

“I just did, love.”

Mirelle glanced back. “What’d she say?”

Revaramek grunted. “The same thing I did!” He flicked his tail, padding alongside his mate. “We dropped Korakos off with the birds on our way here. He wanted to come along, but…” The dragon twisted up his muzzle. “He doesn’t need to see what I suspect they’re going to have to do.”

Mirelle grimaced, shaking her head. “Agreed. Are they bringing him here tonight?”

“That’s the plan.” He watched Nyra as they walked. “As long as no complications…” Revaramek swallowed, unable to finish his sentence.

“Everything will be fine, Revaramek.” Mirelle turned to pat his scales and offer a comforting smile.

Nyra nuzzled him. “Everything will be fine, Revaramek.”

Revaramek returned the gesture, eyes slightly narrowed. “Are you sure you can’t understand Mirelle’s language yet? That’s exactly what she just said.”

Nyra gave him a blank stare. “Why would I say exactly the same thing, on purpose?”

“To mess with me,” Revaramek said. He licked Nyra’s neck, then followed after Mirelle again.

“That’s a good idea.” Nyramyn walked along at his side. “When I do learn the local tongue, I shall have to remember to play dumb just to irritate you.”

Revaramek tossed his head. “Yes, I’m sure you will.”

Silence settled over them as they followed Mirelle to the sizable tavern looming nearby. In the distance, sunlight glittered on golden sands. The sight caught Revaramek so off-guard, he stumbled over his own paws. When he caught his balance, he came to a stop and stared. All these years later, and the single swath of sand left in Asterbury’s furious wake still startled him from time to time. He blinked, half-expecting it to vanish like some many mirages.

“Isn’t it odd, Mirelle?” Revaramek said. “That the sand is still there? Your pond, your springs, your grass, they all recovered just fine from that creeping desolation. But this one patch of sand remains unchanged, year after year. The rain never washes it away, weeds never overgrow it. It’s never dirty or discolored. It’s always just…” He waved his paw at it. “A perfect little patch of golden desert.”

“That…” Mirelle turned around, scowling. “Is a little disconcerting, actually. I never really thought about it like that. Maybe I should have had it dug up after all.”

“No.” Revaramek shook his head. “Better that it remind us of…” He trailed off. Memories flickered through his head. Crackles of blue lightning, tearing through the sky. The grass rotting. Asterbury screaming at Jekk about cruelties heaped upon an innocent pup. Aylaryl, pleading with a furious god not to lose control. Revaramek swallowed. “Of everything. Besides, Vakaal would like knowing you let your patron’s children play in it. He’d want it to be a happy place.”

Mirelle rubbed the back of her neck. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Wind swirled across the garden, stirring up sand into tiny golden whirls. When the gusts shifted, the whirling sands crashed into one another. For only a moment, Revaramek glimpsed the outline of an urd’thin amidst the swirling clouds. Then the winds changed again, scattering the golden dust back across the earth. The dragon blinked, glancing at Mirelle to see if she’d seen it too. But she was already walking to the tavern.

“Nyra…” He licked his muzzle, splaying his ears. “Did you see that?”

“The little sand whirls?” Nyra smiled as she followed Mirelle. “I did! They were very pretty! But when Korakos arrives, we should remind him to keep his flight membranes closed when he goes to play in the sand. I don’t want it getting into his eyes.”

Revaramek clenched his jaw. Maybe he’d only imagined the urd’thin silhouetted within the golden grit. Maybe it was nothing. After all, his imagination did have a history of getting the best of him. Revaramek glanced at the sand again. He half-expected to see a teensy little dune rising, with an even tinier urd’thin pup dancing across it. The dragon decided that if he also saw a tiny little army marching across the miniature desert, he was going to squish every single invader long before they reached their target. But everything looked normal. At least, as normal as a flawless patch of desert sand in the middle of a marshland could look. Maybe, Revaramek thought, it was just Vakaal, looking out for them. The idea made him smile, even if the whole thing was just in his head.

The dragons soon joined Mirelle beneath The Cathedral. The building was as imposing as it was beautiful. Towering steeples, arched buttresses, and decorative spiked battlements loomed over the surrounding area. Grand, stained-glass windows glowed with rainbow radiance in the morning sun. The expansive wooden patio behind it was covered in tables and chairs, removed from within to make room for the dragons. The double doors of the tavern’s rear entrance were wide open. The usually enticing scents of ales and food were smothered by something far more astringent.

Revaramek wrinkled his nose. “What is that smell?”

Mirelle glanced back as she ascended the patio steps. “Alcohol.”

“Oh, Mirelle!” Revaramek arched his neck. “Something’s gone terribly wrong with your brewing process.”

Mirelle made a face. “That’s not my alcohol.”

“I don’t care who made it!” The dragon tossed his head. “You can’t let people drink anything that smells that way. It’ll make them sick.”

“It’s medicinal, you scaly idiot.” Mirelle pinched the bridge of her nose. “The healers have been using it to scrub everything clean.”

“Oh. Right.” Revaramek shook himself. “I knew that.”

Mirelle rolled her eyes. “Sure, you did.”

“Why does it smell like that?” Nyramyn sniffed the air, then scrunched her muzzle, her tongue poking out. “It makes my nose feel funny! Is that the smell of what humans drink here? Don’t they burn their throats?”

“No, it isn’t, but that gives me an idea.” Revaramek waved at the doorway. “Mirelle, do me a favor? Ask the healers if Nyra can have a drink to help her nerves.”

Mirelle nodded. “Good idea. I’ll go find out.”

As Mirelle went inside, Revaramek settled on his haunches. “Mirelle’s going to ask if you can have a drink, first.”

Nyramyn sat next to him. “No, thank you.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to drink anything that smells like that.”

Revaramek chuckled. “Nor do I. But what you’re smelling isn’t for drinking. It’s for cleaning wounds and medical tools.” He licked his nose. “Mirelle’s offerings as much more enticing.”

Nyra smirked at him, her frills slightly lifted. “I’ll bet they are.”

Mirelle soon returned. “So, the healers say that Nyra can have alcohol, but only a little bit. If they have to undertake a procedure, they’ll give her medicine to help her sleep through it. A small amount of alcohol can help, but too much can cause problems.” She chewed on her lip. “And their measurements of what they can safely give her are all very…” Mirelle shrugged. “Approximate.”

“What do you mean, approximate?” Revaramek narrowed his eyes, spines raised.

“No one knows exactly how much it’s going to take to put a dragon under.” Mirelle gazed at Nyra, furrowing her brow. “So, they don’t want her to drink too much.”

Revaramek lashed his tail. “I thought they’d done this before!” He snapped his jaws. “You told me they-” Revaramek clamped his muzzle shut, cutting himself off. “Never mind. I don’t want to make Nyra any more anxious than she already is.” He nosed his mate, who was now giving him a very suspicious look. “They say you can drink-”

“Why are you angry with Mirelle?” Nyra glared at him. “What did she say? Translate!”

“If the healers have to…” Revaramek gestured at her improperly healing wound. “You know.”

“Cut me open.” Nyra’s voice was flat. “You can say it, Rev. We made our deal. I will abide it, no matter how agonizing it may be.”

“Yes.” Revaramek swallowed. “That. Mirelle says they’d give you medicine first, to make you sleep. That way it won’t hurt-”

“It will still hurt when I wake!” Nyra snarled at him, lashing her tail. Her sudden anger died away as quickly as it came. She hung her head, her ears drooping. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t snarl at you. I’m just…”

“I know, love, I know.” Revaramek pressed his head to hers, speaking softly. “But they’ll have medicine for the pain, too. They just aren’t sure how much of it a dragon needs.”

Nyra managed a little laugh. “How very comforting.”

“Which is what I was getting upset about.” He switched to the common tongue. “Unfairly upset, that is. Sorry, Mirelle.”

Mirelle rubbed his shoulder. “Totally understandable. Does she want something to steady herself?”

“Let me ask.” He switched back to Nyra’s language. “Would you like to try some alcohol? It will help calm you.”

“It will?” She bumped him with her muzzle. “Then yes. Lots of it.”

“She says yes, Mirelle.” Revaramek held up a paw. “She’s never had real alcohol before, so why don’t you bring her that strong golden ale I like? The sweeter one.”

“Right.” Mirelle turned away. “Let me find a drinking bucket.”

“A bucket?” Revaramek glowered down at her. “You’re going to make Nyra drink out of a bucket? She’s not a racehorse, Mirelle! At least give her proper glassware!”

“Glassware.” Mirelle turned back around, her hands on her hips. “You want me to give a nervous dragon who’s never had alcohol a small, fragile glass vessel? To hold in her shaking paws, and put up to her muzzle? Are you trying to give the surgeons more work to do?”

Revaramek huffed, thumping his tail against the wooden patio flooring. His webbed spines left fresh scratches. “You know what I mean. Give her a big soup pot, or something. Anything but a bucket.”

Nyra swatted his foreleg. “Translate!”

Revaramek licked her neck. “In a moment, love, in a moment.”

“A soup pot?” Mirelle arched a brow. “How about the same soup pot you put your dirty balls in?”

The dragon tilted his head, a grin parting his muzzle. “Firstly, my balls are not dirty now, nor were they then!” He snorted. “Other than your boot prints. Secondly, I did not put them in your soup pot.” Revaramek crooked a digit, and gestured at himself in a rough circle. “I strategically placed the pot to protect myself from said boots.”

“Be that as it may,” Mirelle said, laughing. “I doubt Nyramyn will find that story as amusing as we do when she realizes what she was drinking out of.”

“Oh, Mirelle.” Revaramek glanced at Nyra, frills lifted in playful dragon smirk. “I assure you, she’s had more in her muzzle than-”

“Let me stop you right there, Rev.” Mirelle held a hand up. “Let’s leave at least a little of that charming revelation to the imagination.”

“Imagine away, Mirelle!”

Mirelle grimaced. “I’m trying not to. Anyway, I stopped using that pot for cooking as soon as you repurposed it. Now it just carries grease and rubbish out to the fires.”

Nyra swatted his leg again, harder this time. “What are you two talking about?”

Revaramek brushed a wing across Nyramyn. “We were discussing what manner of drinking vessel you should use.”

Nyra cocked her head, her eyes narrowed. “Then why were you smirking at me like that?”

“Mirelle made a dirty joke,” Revramek said, glancing away.

“That sounds more like you than her.” She slapped his scales again. “Why won’t you translate-”

“How about that drink, Mirelle?” Revaramek gently nudged Mirelle towards the tavern with his paw. “Just get her one of those fancy drinking bowls the birds use.”

“Stop pushing me!” Mirelle smacked his hand away. “I’ll see what I can find.”

“Why is everyone swatting me?” Revaramek shook his forepaw. “Just pick something classier than a bucket.”

“The same reasons as usual, I should imagine.” Mirelle crossed her arms. “And since when do you care about classy?”

“Since it’s for Nyra!” Revaramek stretched his wing further, cradling his mate beneath it. “She deserves the very best, Mirelle.”

Mirelle gave a little sigh, relenting. “I can’t argue that. But if it makes you feel any better, I’m talking about drinking buckets. I commissioned an entire line of them, specifically for dragons. After I noticed you tend to just…” She waved at his face. “Messily lap up whatever I give you. Just think of them as great big bowls with handles.”

“Oh, very well. But at least bring her your…” Revaramek crinkled his nose. “Finest bucket.”

Mirelle offered an overly stiff bow. “Right away, my benevolent overlord.”

Revaramek shook himself, trilling. “That’s more like it.”

“You two may as well follow me inside,” Mirelle said. “She can get settled and comfortable, and I’ll bring her drink.”

“Very well.” As Mirelle vanished into The Cathedral, Revaramek gently stroked Nyra’s foreleg. “Mirelle has suggested we go inside, if you’re prepared. You can try to relax while you have your drink, before the examination.”

Nyra nodded once. “Very well.” She took a slow breath, then swallowed. “I suppose I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Everything will be fine, Nyra.” Revaramek licked her neck a few times, hugging her beneath his wing. “I promise.”

“So you keep telling me.” She arched her neck into his affection. “Even though I’m only here because we made a deal?” Nyra turned her head, her eyes meeting his. “Thank you for being here with me, Revaramek.”

“Of course, Nyra.” He nuzzled her, purring softly. “I will be by your side, every single moment. I promise.”

“Thank you.” Nyramyn gave him a lick, then sighed. “Let’s go in.”

Revaramek led Nyramyn through the doorway, a wing draped across her. Sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, painting the interior in myriad colors. Most of the remaining furniture was piled in the corners. In their place, layers of soft, white linens and rounded gray cushions were spread across the floor. Decorative brass censers hung from ornate crossbeams spanning the ceiling. Flowery incense smoke wafted from them, but the comforting scent struggled to cut through the pungent smell of so much medicinal alcohol. The long, polished countertop bar was occupied by more vials, bottles, and medical tools than Revaramek could count. Mirelle stood behind it, pouring ale from one of the many great wooden barrels stacked up decoratively along the back wall.

The team of healers and surgeons waited near the tavern’s front entry. Revaramek counted at least a dozen of them, a mixture of humans, va’chaak, and urd’thin. Each was dressed in the golden uniform of Refuge’s medical association. Revaramek greeted them with a wave of his forepaw, a gesture Nyra soon awkwardly attempted to emulate.

“You can get Nyra settled on the cushions there,” Mirelle said, pointing. “Everything’s been scrubbed, and the linens are clean as can be.”

Revaramek walked her to the outstretched linens. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, Nyra.”

Nyra bumped her tail against him. “Not sure how comfortable I can be while exposing my wounded belly to humans.” She gathered a few pillows, then eased down onto them.

“They’re not all human,” Revaramek said, sitting down beside her.

“True.” Nyra adjusted her wings, shifting to her side. “I did notice some of your half-breed children amongst them.”

Revaramek tossed his head, fighting back a laugh. “I keep telling you, the va’chaak aren’t my children.”

“If you say so.” Nyra tilted her head, studying them. “They certainly look like the offspring of a dragon and a human. But…” She poked her tongue out at Revaramek. “I suppose you’d know best what your children with Mirelle look like.”

Revaramek flared up his frills, his eyes widening. “Mirelle and I do not have any children!”

“No?” Nyra stared at him. “What about the older one, then?” She gestured with a paw. “What’s her name, again?”

Revaramek crossed his forelegs. “Enora.”

“Yes, that one.” Nyra nosed at his ear. “How many children do you have with her?”

“Zero!”

“What’s she teasing you about this time?” Mirelle approached them with an immense gold and silver vessel in her arms. Two elegant, stylized dragons were inlaid across its brilliant surface. It bore a large handle, carved into clasped paws, as if the dragons were holding hands. “Here. My classiest bucket.”

“Mirelle, that’s not a bucket!” Revaramek took it in his forepaws. “This is a beautiful chalice, fit for a queen! As it should be.”

“It’s not real gold and silver,” Mirelle said, chuckling. “And it’s not a chalice, either. A chalice has a footed base, and-”

“Can’t hear you, serving my mate ale from a gold and silver chalice.” Revaramek set it before Nyra. Trails of foam dribbled down the sides. It exuded delightful aromas of bittersweet spices and candied fruit. “Here, Nyra, try this.”

Nyra lowered her head, sniffing it. After a moment, she gave the ale a single, cautious lick. Then she smelled it a second time before taking a larger drink.

“If she doesn’t like that one, she’s welcome to try the rest until she finds one she enjoys.” Mirelle wiped her hands off on Revaramek’s scales. “Now, are you going to tell me what she was teasing you about, or not?”

Revaramek gave a derisive snort. “She’s circled back around to the parentage of the va’chaak.”

Mirelle rubbed her forehead. “I thought you cleared that up for her?”

“I did.” Revaramek lay down, resting a foreleg across Nyra’s. “But she’s playing dumb and acting as if they’re all my children.”

“Oh, I see.” Mirelle glanced at the va’chaak. “All of them, huh? You have been busy.”

Revaramek slapped his free paw against the ground. “Apparently, we both have. She asked how many of them are yours.”

Mirelle burst into raucous laughter. “She really has the wrong idea about us. I’ll set her straight myself, when I learn her language.”

“I’m quite sure she knows better.” He slipped into the swamp dragon tongue, pointing to one of the va’chaak. “Mirelle says that one’s hers!”

Nyramyn lifted her muzzle from the ale, licking droplets from her nose. “Is he?” She canted her head. “I do see the resemblance. Mirelle must be older than I thought, though. That creature looks almost as old as she does.”

Revaramek cackled. “Oh, Nyra! That is cruel.”

Nyra laughed with him. “Don’t you dare translate that to her.”

Mirelle sighed. “Do I even want to ask?”

“No, Mirelle.” Revaramek shook his head. “You definitely do not.”

“Very well,” Mirelle said, chuckling. “At least find out if she likes the ale.”

Revaramek ran his finger around the rim of Nyra’s drinking bucket. “Mirelle wants to know if you like the drink.” He licked the foam from his fingertip.

“Yes!” Nyra lapped up a few more mouthfuls, offering a happy purr. “It’s quite strange, but very good. And it makes me feel warm.” She took another drink before glancing at Mirelle. “Thank her for me, too.”

Revaramek grunted, tail tip twitching. “You two have got to learn to talk to each other.” He shifted languages. “Nyra likes it a lot, Mirelle, and she says thank you.” He turned his attention to the healers clustered in quiet discussion. “Are they ready?”

Mirelle nodded. “They’re just waiting for Nyra’s permission. She can finish her drink first or keep enjoying it while they examine her.”

“That might help distract her.” Revaramek patted Nyra’s forepaw. “Love, how do you feel about the healers looking you over while you finish your ale?”

Nyra swallowed hard, flattening her ears. “I suppose the sooner they begin, the sooner they’re finished, right?”

Revaramek smiled, and licked her cheek. “That’s exactly right.”

“Very well, then.” She looked down at his paw atop hers. “You can hold my paw while they examine me. I’ll try not to squeeze it too hard. But remember, Water Ally Revaramek.” She bumped her muzzle against his. “When all this is over with, you owe me an adventure in the desert.”

Revaramek offered her nose a gentle kiss. “Is that what you think we’re going to find out there? An adventure?”

Nyra shrugged her wings. “You don’t find an adventure, Revaramek. You have an adventure. And yes.” She arched her neck and tilted her head, a haughty expression. “I expect to have an adventure with you.” Her posture softened just as quickly, and she looked away, staring at nothing.

Revaramek nuzzled her. “What is it, Nyra?”

“It’s just…” Nyra’s voice faltered. “You used to regale me with tales of all your old adventures. And for so long, I thought you were…” A wistful smile crept over her beautiful green muzzle. “Simply a gifted storyteller, with a vivid imagination. And yet, whenever your words held me in thrall, the hardships and horrors of the swamp melted away around me. And I couldn’t help but wonder, what it must be like.” A trembling sigh escaped her. “Just to have an adventure.” She sniffled, leaning her head against Revaramek. “To know life as much than just a struggle. To find my joy in more than a morning of clean rain, or a bit of sweet crab. To see impossible things, to know and understand wonderment, as you know it.” Nyra sniffed again, tears brimming in her eyes. “The cold truth is, Revaramek, I made our deal not just because I cannot let you leave me behind again. But because…” Her voice broke as a few silent tears ran down her pebbly scales. “Because I want to have an adventure with you, while I still can.”

“Oh, Nyra…” Revaramek pressed his head to hers. “You will have so many adventures in your lifetime! You-”

“No, Rev, I won’t!” Nyra’s voice cracked as she fought back a sob. “But I-”

“You will!” Revaramek cradled her muzzle in his paws, tears blurring his own vision. He forced words through his tightening throat. “I know you think you aren’t going to make it. And I know you think me a fool for believing you will! I won’t argue it with you, because-”

“You’re not a fool, Rev.” Nyra closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “You’re just filled with boundless optimism.” She flicked her tongue across his nose. “And I love that about you. But I fear it leaves you vastly unprepared for what may happen.” She sucked in a shaking breath. “I dread what it will do to you, if you lose me.” Sudden terror filled Nyra’s eyes when she opened them again. “You’re so convinced you can save me! Yet, what if you cannot? Rev, when I’m gone, I don’t want you to think it’s your fault! I don’t want you to believe you failed somehow. Such a wound upon your heart might never close.”

Revaramek stared into her eyes, lost in her fear. “Nyra…” His heart shuddered in his chest. “You know me so well…”

“I just…” Nyra nuzzled him, stroking his neck. “I need to know, you’ll be alright. That you’re prepared for-”

“I’m prepared!” Revaramek hissed his words with more fervor than intended.

“No!” Nyra snapped right back at him. “You’re not! You’re convinced you’re going to save me! But what is that going to do to you, if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not…” Wrong.

He was going to say, he was not wrong. Somewhere, deep in his heart, Revaramek knew Nyra was right. He was convinced he could save her. He knew they still had their whole lives together. And he believed, with everything he had, that Nyramyn would live to watch Korakos grow up. But if he was wrong, if he failed to save her, then those very beliefs would cleave him down to his barest soul. And from that open wound, an ocean of guilt would pour. For if he could save her, but failed, then it was his fault she died.

Revaramek worked his jaws, but spoke only silence.

“It’s alright.” Nyra gently nuzzled him again. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Finally, Revaramek managed to croak out a few words. “You’re right, Nyra. I’m not prepared.”

Nyra rested her chin atop his muzzle. “I know, Rev. Because I’m always right.”

“So you are.” Revaramek lifted his ears at her gentle jibe. “But surely even you must admit, there is a chance that I can save you.”

Nyra blinked back more tears. “Only when you admit there is a chance you can’t. And that if I die, it isn’t your fault.”

“There is a chance…” Revaramek struggled just to repeat after her. “That you might not do well.”

Nyra snorted, her breath washing across his face. “You need to say it. If I die, it is not your fault.”

Rev forced a battered smile to his muzzle. “If I die, it is not your fault.”

“That isn’t funny.” Nyra’s claw tips prickled against his scales. She flashed her teeth. “I’m serious, Rev. When I look into your eyes, I don’t want to see my loss reflected in them. I know all too well how hard it will be for you to lose me. Just as I once thought I’d lost you. Do you not think there were nights when I lay awake, silently crying, because I thought it was my fault?” Nyra pressed a paw against her chest. “That I had somehow brought about your death. That you died because of some error I’d taught you by accident, or some deadly thing I’d forgotten to warn you about. I had to tell myself, over and over, that sometimes? Sometimes bad things just happen. They’re not anyone’s fault.” She took a shaking breath, tears streaming down her scales anew. “I need you to understand that you didn’t make me sick! But neither can you heal me.”

“But…maybe-”

“Yes, maybe!” Nyra sat up straighter, cradling his head in her paws. She mantled her wings around him. “Maybe you’ll find someone who can save me! But maybe you won’t.” Her voice broke, twisting into an anguished whine. “I need you to come to terms with this, Revaramek. And so does Korakos! Because if I die, our son will need you more than ever. He will need you to be the strong, optimistic, joyful, happy dragon you’ve always been. Not some guilt-ridden wreck, wondering how he’d failed, when it was never his fault. So, I need you to say it. And I need you to believe it.” She eased back, staring into his eyes. “That my death will not be your fault.”

Revaramek forced himself to meet her gaze. Every word spoken was its own battle. “If you die, it is not my fault.”

Nyra rested her forepaw over his heart. “It is not your fault.”

Revaramek settled his paw over hers, silent. It took the dragon several deep breaths before he managed to collect himself. With his other front paw, he wiped a tear from Nyra’s muzzle. “I love you, Nyra.”

Nyramyn smiled at him, her ears up. “I love you too, Revaramek.”

Little by little, strength filtered back into Revaramek’s voice. “I’m still going to try and save you.”

Nyra’s smile widened. “I know.”

“And I’m going to take you on the best gods-damned adventure you’ve ever imagined.”

Nyra laughed, a beautiful, musical sound that once saved him from the swamp. “You’d damn well better.”