The day stretched on and they ran into more burned out shells, scattered through the forest. Once they came across a clearing which had once been another fairy ring, but was now a circle of charred ground with tiny blackened stumps where the mushrooms had been.
Dameon walked in front of her, tearing a path through the trees. Alannah preferred it when he was behind her, out of sight; walking behind him, she had ample opportunity to observe the lean line of his body. His transformation spell might be faulty, but he sure knew how to craft a human body.
Alannah kept her gaze focused on the ground. She wasn't going to be the next notch in his long line of conquests, witch or not. She'd just have to control the way her stomach did that swooping thing when he looked at her.
The dragon halted, scenting the wind.
"What is it?" she asked, grip tightening around the hilt of her sword. "Can you smell him? The warlock?"
"No," said Dameon slowly. "It's not a sorcerer. I can't tell-"
The vines at their feet rustled. Alannah levelled her sword at the ground, bracing herself. A small, furry body darted out of the undergrowth. It trailed a long, familiar tail. She lunged and speared the animal on the tip of her blade. With a little shriek, it convulsed and went still. Pleased, Alannah lifted her sword.
"Rat for dinner?" she asked, blithely.
Dameon recoiled. "I'll catch my own dinner, thanks."
She frowned at him. "Don't be silly. I've caught it, now. And it's huge; it'll easily feed both of us." She swung the rat towards him and he flinched. "Do you not like dead animals or something?" His gaze flicked up to hers, eyes wide and skin pale. "No. Wait a minute."
"Don't say it," he muttered.
"You're afraid of rats?" she asked. "Seriously?"
He hunched his shoulders. "I just don't like them."
"Why?"
"They get into my cave in the winter and I can hear their little feet scratching around," he said. "They're too damn small to catch."
She tried not to laugh. Really she did. "A dragon that's afraid of rats? You've got to be kidding me."
"Ha ha," he said, dryly. "Everyone has their weakness."
"And yours is little furry creatures with long tails." She waved the rat at him again. "Sure you're not hungry?"
He placed a finger against her blade and flicked it away. "Not for that. Let's make camp here," he said, not so subtly changing the subject. "I'll get my own meal."
"All right, all right." She used her boot to slide the dead rat off her sword. "I'll build a fire if you set it alight."
"Deal," he agreed and with a slither of fire-touched magic, melted into his dragon form.
Alannah looked up. She'd forgotten how big he was in this shape. He towered over her, his wings tucked close to his sides, penned in by the trees. Still, she recognised something of the human in his expression, in the way he tilted his head. "Be careful," she said (and wasn't this an amusing picture; talking to a dragon without fear he'd eat her or burn her to cinders). "The warlock's around here somewhere, he might be just as annoyed by dragons as he is by Fae."
Same to you, came the reply. Get a fire ready and I'll be back with some real food. He crashed though the trees and disappeared.
"Maybe we won't have to find this warlock," she murmured, bending to collect dry wood for the fire. "With all that racket, he'll probably find us."
There was a small hunting knife tucked in her boot like a gift - if she ever saw that King again, she'd have to remember to thank him - which she used to skin and gut the rat. It looked even more disturbing skinned and spitted. Not quite enough to fear it, though. Alannah chuckled and sat cross-legged, waiting for the dragon to return.
The shadows in the forest grew longer. She picked dirt out from under her fingernails and examined her hands. The threads around her fingers were grey with dirt. Silk wasn't designed for this kind of place. Alannah unwound them and dropped them into the pile of wood. She tore a length of thread off the sleeve of her new shirt and wrapped it around her finger. Her magic settled there, purring.
Where was that damn dragon, anyway? Alannah shifted on the loamy earth and something thunked against her thigh. She dug her hand into the pocket of her breeches. The scales. The Fae must have transferred them when they clothed her. There was definitely a remnant of the dragon's magic left within the scales; it curled around her finger like a living thing. Alannah drew her hand away quickly. The sooner she got home, the better.
Her magic, curled around the thread on her index finger, tingled a warning. She leapt to her feet and snatched up her sword. "Come out," Alannah called, with more bravery than she felt. She steadied her grip on the sword and reminded herself that she knew how to use it. Something else she could thank Grandmother for. "I know you're there," she said "Come out where I can see you."
And out from the bushes slunk a monster. Alannah stepped back instinctively. Wait. It wasn't a monster. She squinted against the darkness. Actually, it barely came up to her knees. The creature shuffled out of the bushes and walked in hunching steps towards her wood pile. Alannah, bemused, watched it.
The snapping of branches signalled Dameon's arrival. The - thing hunched down on the ground like a startled cat.
With a huff of air that smelt like brimstone, the dragon wriggled out of the trees and dropped a dead fawn into their camp. Now that is dinner, he sent smugly, before the spines along his back prickled and he crouched, snarling. What in all the realms is that?
"I have no idea."
The creature was an odd mix of features. It had a dog's head (but one of those squashed, scrunched up dogs Alannah only ever saw in wealthy carriages) and four legs too thin for its body, which was squat, round and covered in patchy fur. And it had a long, furless tail.
It's a rat.
"It's not a rat."
It has a rat's tail, he said. And it stinks.
Alannah sniffed, but didn't get anything except the scent of dead fawn and annoyed dragon. "If you say so. Why don't you eat it?" she suggested. "See if it tastes like rat."
I am not eating that, I don't know where it's been. And look at it. The thing took another step towards the fire and its large, bulging eyes darted a glance at her rat.
"Oh no you don't," said Alannah, blocking its path. "That's my dinner." It recoiled, staring up at her with wide eyes. "I think it's hungry," she said, slowly. It made no move to attack her, but it couldn't seem to drag its gaze from the rat. "Dameon, give it your fawn."
The dragon hunched over its kill. No. This is mine. I caught it myself.
"What happened to being able to go without food for weeks?"
But I don't want to go without food, he replied, petulantly. And I don't like it, he added, growling. It's ugly.
"Yeah well, we can't all be princesses," she said, feeling strangely defensive of the little critter. "Now, give it your food."
Grumbling wordlessly, Dameon padded away from his fawn. It put the dragon closer to her, but that was probably just coincidence. The monster's gaze seized on the carcass. After a while, when neither of them moved, it scuttled over, opened a jaw of small, needle like teeth and chomped down. Alannah winced.
Just think, that could've been your leg, sent Dameon, watching the creature with a kind of sick fascination.
"I think it's cute," Alannah declared, sitting down and laying her sword within reach. The monster eyed her but kept feeding, making gross little sucking noises. "I'm going to call it Geoff."
You're naming it? The dragon settled next to her, tucking his claws underneath him like a cat. We are not keeping it.
"I don't know, he might grow on you. Now how about that fire?" she asked. "It's getting cold out here."
Dameon laid his head on the ground and breathed a thin stream of flames onto the wood. A second later fire leapt up from the pit, crackling happily.
Alannah settled her rat more securely in the centre of the flames. "Nice job. I knew you'd come in handy at some point."
I live to serve.
The creature finished eating â it'd even polished off some of the bones â and flopped down by the fire with its legs splayed outwards as though they'd given up holding it upright. It let out a satisfied burp.
"Maybe it's domesticated."
No one would have that thing as a pet. Except you, apparently.
"But it's not afraid of the fire." On the contrary, it rolled on its belly to get closer. "And it doesn't seem to be frightened of us now it's eaten. This is a sorcerer's forest," she pointed out. "Maybe he created it as some kind of experiment."
An experiment to create the ugliest thing in this realm, Dameon agreed.
Alannah turned her rat over. "Is there anything else out there you can smell?"
No. He seemed to frown, if she could call it a frown on a dragon's face. Nothing I can smell, but I didn't notice that thing until it was already here.
Which was worrying. Who knew if there were more, worse things out there?
"Guess I won't be getting much sleep tonight," she muttered.
The dragon tilted his head and eyed her. I'll stay awake, he volunteered.
She paused. "You will?"
My eyes and ears are much better than your weak human ones.
"Right," she said, dryly. She should've known better. But sleep sounded really good right now. "And you'll keep an eye on Geoff?"
He growled a little. Fine.
She frowned at him. "Don't eat him," she warned. He snorted, but his gaze dropped away from the creature.
Alannah tore strips of meat off the rat with her knife and ate them. It wasn't the most appetising meal she'd ever had, even at short notice, but it quietened the rumbling in her stomach.
The sound of Dameon's large, echoing breaths drowned out the eerie stillness of the forest and acted as a counterpoint to the crackling fire. It was almost... nice.
She licked her fingers and put the thought out of her head. "Wake me if anything happens," she said and curled into a ball on the ground so the line of her spine rested against the dragon's ribs. His heat warmed her to the core.
A long time later, as she was almost half-asleep, she felt his wing settle over her shoulder and shield her body from the wind. Good night, she heard, before she succumbed to dreams.