She blinks both sets of eyes, staring at the other dragon in stereosonic vision. A long time ago a view like this would’ve had her nauseous, dry heaving with two bodies and then sicker for the double feedback overlapping itself.

It was, as demanded by Beastmaster Bismuth, checkup day for familiars.

His head snapped up from where his hand was on her back, scanning the small avian body. For a moment his jaw worked soundlessly, eyes wide and locked on her dragon ones.

And then she took a breath beneath him and his attention snapped back down. He slowly withdrew his paw, claws curling inward as if to provide a physical defense against the pure revulsion of touching a dead body.

“It’s mind is—“
“Mine.”
“There nothing there. How is it even standing?”

She met his horrified glare with a calm and steady gaze. There was no call for misgendering her, even lost in the swamping rush of fear as he was.

“I am a girl, Bismuth.”

At her words, he slowly looked back down at her, one paw still hovering above her fur. His gaze locked on the back of her head.

She thinks understanding came over him, because he slowly withdrew. Back to the entrance to her den, refusing to meet her eyes.

Running from a predator far greater than he could conceive.



Born in the Wanderlust Hatchery.