softly, bending twigs and stripping off bark and enjoying myself with something that might make a difference. Not the most melodic of tunes, but that suits my vocal talent fine.
Caronerax does his usual trick of dumping a huge load of firewood behind me, but I don’t flinch.
“There you are,” I say absentmindedly, concentrating on my work.
“I’ve lost my powers to instill terror,” he mutters. “Even a small female barely notices me.”
I glance up. “Oh, I notice you, all right. It’s just that you don’t scare me. I think we can safely assume I’m the only living thing on this planet not scared out of their minds when you’re close. Oh, and Marshie, probably.”
He takes in my handiwork. “What are you doing?”
“It’s an Earth invention,” I explain. “They’re called ‘snowshoes’.”
He nods. “Of course. I also noticed the total lack of snow in this area. And I believe the air is getting warmer. So I absolutely see why you would make things like that. I only wonder why you didn’t think of it before.”
“You’re pretty sarcastic for a dragon,” I tell him. “You would be a big hit on Earth. No, I don’t expect snow. But it seems to me that snowshoes may also be useful on mud. Mud-shoes. Does that make more sense?”
“We will see when we continue. Here are some of your green herbs. I have observed how you turn them into paste, and I now intend to follow the same process.”
I reward him with a radiant smile. “Great! I’m sure yours will be better than mine.” I’m pretty sure it won’t, but is there a better way to get a guy to do something than to flatter his efforts?
“Hmm,” he replies with uncharacteristic doubt, sits down, and starts grinding the herbs between two rocks. “Possibly.”
“Dragons don’t make much, right? They prefer to take things others have made?”
“It is much easier.”
I grin. “Can’t argue with that.”
We sit there in silence for a while, working. I never thought I would enjoy myself this much on this hellhole of a planet. I’m being useful. As far as I know, nobody has made snowshoes on Xren. Not even during the sudden and massive snowfall a few months back, when Mia met Kyandros. Finally, I’m maybe doing something kind of original!
Caronerax concentrates on his grinding, making a bad mess of the paste while his red tongue sticks a little out of the corner of his mouth.
I’m not sure if I should go ‘aaawwww’ from the incredible cuteness of it, or if it should be a more passionate ‘oooh.’ Because that’s not a human tongue. Too much texture, as I felt when he kissed me. And I suspect he could do wonders with it if he really went for it down below.
I shift my position before I get turned on.
Maybe I could make skis. Would skis work on mud? There is such a thing as waterskis, but don’t they need a boat to pull them along?
I finish my two pairs of mudshoes while the fresh scent of the ground healing herbs spreads.
“Smells good,” I praise the dragon. “May I see?”
He proudly shows me a large leaf with a dollop of grainy paste in the middle of it. The rest is spread around on the ground, covering his fingers, and caked on the rocks.
“It is quite magnificent,” he tells me, “much like the raft you helped me build. It will certainly have a particular healing power. Made by a dragon.”
“Oh, definitely,” I agree and accept the leaf. “It will be extremely potent.”
Sure, let’s get some placebo effects going here. If he really thinks this paste is better because he made it himself, then maybe it’s better if I let him believe it, and his own mind will make it work better.
I apply the paste to his wound, not seeing a reason to mention that the discolored patch is not getting any smaller. And once more there is a drop of ichor right at the hole in the scales. I hope the sex didn’t make him exert himself too much.
“Is it still painful?” I ask carefully.
He looks away. “Somewhat.”
I try to push a bit of the paste into the hole, but I have no idea if it will help. Right now I don’t think there’s any risk of infection — the sliver of metal inside is probably poisonous to him, like he said, and that’s making all the trouble.
We switch positions, and Caronerax smears the rest of the paste onto my shoulder wounds. They’re no longer sore.