The Dragon's Coveted Wife

Its scales glittered in the afternoon sun, sending sparks of light shimmering down from the clouds. It swooped around, its talons brushing the treetops as it searched for its quarry. The dragon's large head swept side to side. There! The hooded figure was dashing through the trees below, its black cape billowing out behind it as it ran through the thick forest. With a roar, the dragon dove, its claws outstretched toward the figure. Branches slapped against its thick hide as it broke through the canopy, but the dragon barely noticed. It would soon have its prey. The cloaked figure suddenly disappeared, seemingly into thin air. The dragon slowed its descent and came to a rest on a large branch, the bough sagging beneath its weight. It lifted its head and sniffed the air deeply, a few tendrils of smoke trickling from its nostrils. The scent had disappeared with its own. The large beast let out a frustrated growl. It had been hunting this…thing for over a week now and this was the closest it had gotten. Something slammed into the dragon, knocking it from its perch. With a snarl, the dragon tumbled to the forest floor, scattering leaves and other forest debris. The ground rumbled underneath the impact. The creature tried to lift itself but a stabbing, burning pain shot through its side. It crumpled to its stomach again. With a mighty beat of its wings, it tried to lift itself aloft, but it would not hold. Confused, it looked towards its glorious wings and saw a large gash through one of them. It bellowed in pain and anger. The sound of branches breaking underfoot drew its attention from the tear. The hooded figure stood a few feet away. The only thing that could be seen under the dark hood was a pair of glittering red eyes. #### Saffron rubbed the herbs between her fingers; a sharp, earthy smell sprung forward. She cut a few stalks and put them in the pouch at her waist. Standing, she stretched her back. She had been gathering since dawn. It was nearing dusk and she should head back soon. She had already lingered too long in the Wood. If the Fates were willing, her home would be empty when she returned. Abbington Holt had made it a habit to stop by unannounced ever since the engagement was finalized. Saffron found him incredibly tiresome and she hated the way he leered at her. She was thankful that she was still protected by her guardian, at least for the next few weeks. She refused to dwell on what her life would be like after the wedding. Her feet carved a small path through the tall grass and her pale-yellow skirt flowed behind her, brushing the tops of the vibrant wildflowers that grew in the meadow. She could see the lights of the village beginning to blink on. Her steps slowed, savoring the last few minutes of solace when a low keening sounded from her right. She froze and her hand fell to the wicked dagger she used for harvesting. Its rough hilt was a comfort underneath her hand. She considered running but whatever it was sounded as if it were in great pain. Her healer's oath compelled her to find the creature. With one last glance at the town, she went back into the Wood. Daylight was fading fast but Saffron was as familiar with this Wood as she was her own face. She had been traipsing over these hills and through these trees since she was a child. However, the keening she heard was nothing she had ever heard before. The only familiarity in the howl was the pain. The creature seemed to be off the path. A bright spot of red drew her eye and she crouched down blood. She touched it with the tip of her finger. It was less than an hour old. The cry seemed to be fading now. She needed to hurry. Following the splatter trail, she came to a small cave. The blood led deep inside. An alarm sounded deep inside of her, but she still took a step forward. The keening had dropped into a mournful lowing. She looked around, the grass outside of the cave had been trampled and broken branches littered the forest floor. Whatever was in there, was big. “Hello?" she called out, her voice wavering. The lowing stopped. She heard heavy, labored breathing. She took a few more steps in. There were now pools of blood glittering in the fading sunlight. Leaning closer, she saw that the blood seemed to have flecks of gold in it. So not human then, she thought to herself. “I'm here to help. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a Mender," she called out. The snuffling, wet breathing continued but she heard nothing else. Pulling her flint from her apron, she lit a small torch and tentatively stepped into the cave. A large, heaving mound lay just inside the mouth of the cave. Its giant reptilian body was curled into a tight ball. A large pool of blood lay under the creature, more seeping from it with each torturous breath. She raised her torch higher. The body was covered in gold glittering scales, each the size of her hand. A dragon. She should leave. Run. Dragons weren't friendly under the best circumstances much less when injured. But she was compelled forward. She walked a wide berth around the body, ready to flee if needed. Its head was tucked tightly against its body, one emerald eye watching her approach. “I'm Saffron. I'm here to help you. Can you show me where you're hurt?" she asked softly. The eye regarded her suspiciously and didn't move. “Please," she pleaded. She stabbed her torch into the ground and appealed to the beast. She wasn't sure if it could even understand her, but she knew that dragons were intelligent creatures. Saffron reached her hand forward, long pale fingers stretching towards the dragon. It snorted at her once and she smelled something hot and metallic. A low growl rumbled from deep within the creature's body, but it stopped abruptly with a cry of pain. It rustled its wing and she saw a large wound in its side and a tear through the thin membrane of its wing. “Will you please let me help you?" she asked again and pulled out her healer's kit. It snorted at her again but held it's wing aloft. Her heart racing, she stepped forward. She had never seen a dragon in the flesh before, but she had studied its anatomy from her grandmother's books. The heat that rolled off of the creature was incredible. Sweat began to prick at her brow and being in such close proximity to it chased away any lingering chill from earlier. The wound was raw and ragged; it looked as if it had been hit with a cannon. The edges were blackened. Saffron delicately rubbed away some of the grit. It smelled of sulfur. So, it had been shot. “I'm going to clean this first since it is the worst," she said aloud as she poured cool water over the wound. The dragon hissed but let her continue. “Now, I'm going to put a poultice on here. It will help numb the area and help with the pain," she stated and pulled a small sachet from her bag. She pressed it into the hole gently. It would help stave off infection as well. “This is going to be the worst part," she warned and pulled a large needle from her kit. The dragon's eyes flared but it held still. Its eyes were squeezed shut as she pushed the needle through its tough hide. The large body trembled and then went incredibly still. Saffron quickly stitched the gash closed. The dragon's breathing was still frantic. “Almost done," she consoled it and sewed the cut on the wing shut. “All done," she said and rinsed her hands from her water jug. The dragon's eyes were closed and it's breathing had evened out. It must have fainted from the pain. Saffron took a few steps back in case it awoke in a bad temperament. It was beautiful. The firelight danced across the gilded scales. Small streams of smoke wisped from its nostrils. It was larger than even her books described. It dwarfed the cavern they were in however, it wasn't so large as to blot out the sky while it flew. She found a small enclave where she could sit and rest her back. She would wait here until she could be sure it would survive the night. As she stared at the beautiful creature, she realized that its skin was moving. Astonished, she half stood and watched as the scales seemed to melt, revealing tanned, muscular skin. She crept closer; her breath caught in her throat. The dragon slid away and, in its place, the most beautiful man Saffron had ever seen.