a moment when I might lower my guard?
Certainly, no slayer would bend double in laughter with a dragon present.
My hand goes to my chest. That piece of nastiness in there… is it possible she didn’t know what she was doing? Or if she did, that I in fact scared her so much she felt compelled to fire her terrible weapon?
I suppose it doesn’t matter. She is a lesser being, and she injured a dragon. Drawing ichor! It’s sheer sacrilege.
And yet, I can’t bring myself to punish her. By all rights, she should be laying dead on the ground, in a sticky puddle of her species’ red blood.
I have let her live, from some bizarre, vague notion that she might help me heal.
And in fairness, she has offered to try.
“Stop,” I command.
She stumbles in her eagerness to comply, then stiffens, looking around warily.
I look down on her. “I have decided to allow you to attempt to heal the wound you inflicted. If you take this as a chance to injure me further, I will rip your fingers off. All of them. Slowly. One by one”
Her eyes are big and dark. I detect some relief in her, but no malice. This is all extremely puzzling.
“I will not hurt you,” she says eagerly. “I mean, I will have to touch the wound, and it will probably sting.”
“Let’s hope it won’t sting too badly,” I say with a warm smile. “Because you probably need those fingers for later.”
“I’ll have to gather the herbs,” she informs me.
I indulgently wave her away. “Then do so.”
For the first time in my life, I sit down on the ground in human form. It’s not an agreeable situation. It’s hard and cold and full of dry little needles from the trees above.
And still it feels good to rest. This pitiful form and all its weaknesses!
But the view is pleasant. Jennifer runs to and fro between various bushes and plants, not finding what she seeks. Her movements are not quite those of prey — she’s too focused, too deliberate. There’s no panic in her.
I have, of course, not met anyone of her exact species before, but I can’t help noticing how similar she is to my human form. If not for my vibrant colors, some would guess we were of the same planet.
Perhaps that similarity is why her presence keeps creating a pressure in my groin, stretching the fabric of my pants. She is remarkably attractive.
In a flash I realize why. Her entire air, her being, her health — she was reared on a prosperous planet. That would also explain her ability to not cower — she’s not used to it, it’s foreign to her.
I wonder where her planet lies and what conquests and plunder it might offer to an enterprising dragon like myself.
She finally hurries over to me, little hands clutching bundles of leaves and twigs. “How are you feeling?”
“Sick and impatient,” I truthfully state. “Now, less interrogation and more healing.”
“It’s rare to see a dragon sitting down,” she offers as she kneels beside me and starts churning the leaves to a green paste between two rocks. “That’s why I asked.”
I see no reason to reply. The little female finishes the grinding. The leaves are now a thick, fibrous paste with a strong scent, not at all unpleasant. It might be poison, but I doubt it.
She shows me one slender finger with the tip coated in green. “I will be as gentle as I can. Tell me if it stings.” Stroking the finger in a circle around the injury, she rubs it on the skin that covers my scales. “Okay so far?”
I grunt in response. Her touch is soft, barely perceptible.
“I’ll go closer to the wound.” The circle becomes a small spiral, and the mild pressure of her finger sets off another wave of pain down the arm and through my chest.
I clench my teeth — not so much from the pain itself as from the realization that her light ministrations shouldn’t feel like that. This human body of mine is very, very sick.
“I can’t tell if there’s anything in there. I’ll press harder,” she says, “so the wound might suck some of the paste into it. It is going to hurt. Tell me if it’s okay.”
A groan escapes me. It stings. Not the paste itself, but the poisoned fragment inside me.
“Sorry,” Jennifer says, but she doesn’t stop. “It’s just that the tissue looks really inflamed. It’s hard to tell, though. I’m not used to dealing with blue skin.