When Skye came to the Shifting Expanse it was an excited hatchling bought for a good bride price. Not that she had really any clue what that meant.

It turned out to be heartbreak.

Hatchling after hatchling was given a name and sent off to serve the Stormcatcher. Not even allowed to grow, they were sacrificed to get the Stormcatcher favor. How tiny hatchlings could serve as celestial warriors was completely beyond Skye’s ken.

Her skills as a healer were in some demand but not much. Injured dragons were just sent off with the callousness as hatchlings. It broke Skye’s heart to see so many sent off, but since her memories of any other life where shadowed and misty at best, she made the best of it she could. Then an overheard snippet of conversation changed everything.

‘Skye can be put to breed with anyone. She makes the plainest of hatchlings, perfect for god-bait.’

She was incandescence with rage! Her babies may have been ungened but they were precious to her! It was obvious she had no worth in this clan. So she would find somewhere where she was valued. She took only those things that she had made herself or been given and went to the markets. There she put herself up for sale at the same price she had been sold for as a hatchling.

The maize colored fae took one look at her skills and bought her contract in the next breath.

“I’m Westa,” she said, stretching out a paw for Skye to touch.

Skye liked the fae’s calm demeanor, “Skye and I don’t breed.”

Westa blinked at that, “I’m sorry to hear that. Was it an accident?” Compassion filled her voice.

“No, I just don’t...” she ducked her head as she thought of her lost children.

The tiny fae landed on a post and draped as much of a wing as she could over the skydancer, “It’s alright. No worries about that at Stormcliff. We’re in dire need of a good healer. That’s all we ask.”

“I am an excellent healer,” she stated as she brought her head up. Westa’s simple acceptance made her feel much better.

Westa smiled, “Trev and Garamond are in desperate need of good back up. Can you fight too?”

“Yes.”

Westa took wing again, “Then come along and meet them. They’re buying potions, again.”

“Why are they in such need,” Skye picked up her small satchel of belongings and followed Westa.

“They’re coliseum fighters, and they’ve never learned to dodge.”

Skye chuckled at the asperity in Westa voice, “I don’t think I’ll be much help there."

“Heh, I don’t think anyone can teach those two that!” Westa pointed with a paw, “There they are, the imperial with the green wings and the guardian with the swamp circuit. Garamond is the only dragon that I know who makes that color look good.”

Skye’s heart skipped a beat as she looked at the two males. OH, Lightweaver, this may be harder than I thought.