Mitri

“All vital signs are normal,” a strange voice proclaimed. Thin claws wrapped themselves around his forelimb and brushed aside some of the fur. “The bones are still protruding, but that doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

“This is it, then, Vardi?” a second voice asked. “Is he ready?”

“I do believe so,” Vardi replied. “Would you like to do the honors, Vitomir?”

“Naturally,” Vitomir answered. His wicked excitement could be heard through his voice.

A powerful jolt ran through his body. His eyes flew open and he coughed forcefully. Tiny bits of fluff flew out of his mouth. He looked around. This place was unfamiliar, as were the dragons staring at him. “Who are you? Where am I?” he asked.

The green Pearlcatcher grinned. “I am Vitomir and this is my colleague, Vardi,” he introduced the pair. The Skydancer nodded in acknowledgment. “Tell me, what is your name?”

“My name?” He pondered the question for a moment. Memories flickered through his mind faster than he could process them. “My name is Mitri.” Mitri reached up and felt his face. Smooth bone replaced the soft fur that he remembered being there. “What happened? What did you do to me?” he asked, beginning to panic.

Vitomir shook his head, taking down notes on a notepad in his claws. “Subject has no recollection of death,” he mumbled to himself. “Interesting.”

“Death?” Mitri exclaimed, eyes wide. “Please! What happened to me?”

“You died, plain and simple,” Vardi answered. He grabbed one of Mitri’s limbs and held it up for him to examine. “Do you not see your bones poking through your flesh?” He sighed and dropped Mitri’s arm. “We rescued you from the brink of complete annihilation of the spirit. Are you not thankful?”

Mitri wracked his brain for something, anything, that could explain his situation. Yet, he found nothing. “I… I don’t understand,” he said.

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice,” Vardi growled, turning and busying himself with his tools.

“I will take him home now,” Vitomir announced, grabbing Mitri by the scruff of the neck and dragging him down to the floor. “Come along, Mitri. There is someone you must meet.”

Following Vitomir as closely as his stiff limbs would allow, Mitri asked, “Who is it? Is it someone I know?”

“No,” Vitomir replied, his expression taking on an almost fond quality. “Because of the nature of your existence, I simply must introduce you to Mendoza.”