Aestus

He drags himself through the undergrowth, dry from winter, leaving bloodstained furrows in the snow as he goes.

The snow itself doesn't bother him much - he's an ice dragon, after all, far from the Southern Icefield as he may be.

But the snows don't normally reach as far north as the Reedcleft Ascent, even in the Twisting Crescendo's most turbulent winters, and while the snow that had fallen over the past week could hardly be called a blizzard, it had caught the nameless dragon by surprise.

It would have been easy enough in the warmer months for a clanless Pearlcatcher to get by on foraging in the Ascent, but in the wake of the sudden frost, any foliage he could reach with his injury had turned black and brittle and the insects had burrowed deep underground.

If he had been mobile enough to store some food away, perhaps. If he hadn't been injured. If he had a companion, a clan, a friend - who could reach the hardier leaves above, or with the strength to shift tree trunks aside to reach the beetles and worms underneath. If he could see, or if the cold hadn't dulled his other senses.

If he could remember - where he was supposed to be, right now.

If, if, if.

He reaches what he thinks is a clearing and turns in a shaky circle, making himself a makeshift nest in the snow. He might bleed out before the hunger takes him, he thinks, through the haze of blood loss and around the numbness in his claws that threatens to claw its way up to his chest.

It's as good a place to die as any, he thinks, and presses his tail over his nose.

---

He blinks awake - not much later, he thinks; He can't really tell, but he feels much warmer and the snow hasn't melted yet, so surely not much time has passed - to the sound of something - someone? - making its way through the undergrowth. Someone, he realises, a dragon or a beastclan, ears pricking at the sound of a knife cutting through the undergrowth. And close, too, to not be muffled by the snow.

He blinks again under his blindfold and lifts his head in the direction of the sound. A rescuer? Or a beastclan who will take the opportunity right before them? It doesn't matter much, at this point.

He tells himself as much, at least, but still he relaxes when he recognises the voice that rings out from the shadows as the trilling, chirp-like voice of a Skydancer. "Hello?" they call out.

He manages a weak sound in response, and there's a shuffling, scrabbling sound as they seemingly abandon their knife in favour of shoving themself through the undergrowth.

"There you are!" the voice comes again, closer this time. There's a soft thud, higher up, and the Skydancer makes a faint "oof" sound as the branch they seemingly knocked their head on in their excitement vibrates.

The wounded Pearlcatcher snorts softly in spite of himself.

"Thank the deities you're still conscious - you were fading for a minute there," the Skydancer continues as though nothing happened, and the Pearlcatcher lowers his head again, suddenly exhausted.

"Hey, now, come on - stay with me, now." The crunch of snow and the rustle of fabric as the Skydancer practically pounces to his side. "You picked a bad place to wander around bleeding," they chide, rummaging around in what sounds like a leather pouch, and the Pearlcatcher tilts his head at her in disbelief. "In any other part of the Reedcleft Ascent any number of Skydancers would have sensed you and sent a proper medic after you. This area's pretty much abandoned, though - what were you doing wandering around alone?"

You're alone too, he thinks, but doesn't have the energy to say. And I don't remember how I got here.

The Skydancer hums to themself, a simple tune that sounds almost like a lullaby, as they begin to cast a spell with the ingredients from their pouch - Aid, he assumes, though something tells him it's a slightly modified version of the spell. His skin tingles and then burns as the edges of the wound on his side begin to knit themselves together, and he spasms as the sensation comes back to his limbs before fading away in waves.

"It's okay! It's okay - The snow slowed the bleeding well enough but I had to do something about the hypothermia." Warmth spreads through his body, radiating from where their hands are prodding against his side. "Aiy, aiy... when's the last time you had a decent meal?" the Skydancer sighs, sounding mournful.

He struggles to lift his head again, but the Skydancer tuts and gently nudges him back into a laying position. "Don't move until Aid has finished knitting you back together, alright? That was a nasty gash you had there - nearly your whole flank, and deep too. When you wake we'll get some food into you and see if you have enough strength to move to a better spot. This clearing's not bad, but all the blood's bound to attract something - and it's a little bit of a downer, honestly." Their voice is starting to sound distant, now, and he closes his eyes beneath his blindfold.

"When you wake you can tell me all about how you ended up here, okay? And don't leave anything out - I'll know if you do!" More rummaging, and the sound of a paper parcel being opened.

I really wish I could.

"Oh! And I'm Cinnamon, by the way," the Skydancer says, and even as he slips back into unconsciousness he can hear the smile in their voice.



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