Chapter 19
The next time Attalus woke, he knew it to be for true. Bright midday sunlight streamed into the cave, a swell of summer heat gathering just outside the entrance. Under all his blankets and his sleeping mate, he was quite warm, the false chill of fever finally gone.
Turning his head to the side, he beheld Thalia standing not too far away, head lowered and one of her hooves lifted partially off the ground in that way horses slept sometimes.
But she wasn’t asleep.
You lived it seems. Congratulations.
Attalus would’ve chuckled, but he didn’t want to wake Leita. Underestimate me at your peril. Lifting a hand to run his claws through Leita’s hair, he wondered, How long have we been asleep?
I got here yesterday afternoon to find you like that. Thalia’s dark eyes opened, and after shaking out her mane, she reminded him, Hands where I can see them, lizard.
Oh, how I missed you, Moonchaser.
You’ve been missed, too, Attalus.
Have I now…He lifted his head enough to peer down at his beautiful, serene mate. Her regal features were softened in sleep, making her appear far younger.
He didn’t remember much of what she did—most of it was waves of aching pain he never wished to experience again. She’d spoken to him, and he had the sense he’d agreed to something. Whatever it was, he was alive. The terms or price hardly mattered.
Time had been a slippery thing as he lay there, but he thought almost a fortnight had passed since she left.
His decline had taken a few days, but once the venom settled into his tissues, there’d been nothing to do but lie there and suffer through.
He’d gone days now without proper food or washing—and it showed.
Gathering his strength, Attalus sat up as gently as he could. Jostling Leita as little as possible, he lifted her out of his soiled nest, grimacing at the smells that wafted from it. And him. The scent of sickness turned his empty stomach.
There were thankfully a few unused blankets in the corner he hadn’t been able to reach himself, as well as Leita’s own blanket she always used.
With these, he fashioned her a new nest, settling her down in the center.
The sight had him crooning happily, and he couldn’t resist using a claw to push a lock of hair behind her pointed ear.
Slinky rubbed against his hand, as though to assure herself that he was alive.
Or perhaps because he was giving Leita too much attention.
Scratching her behind her little ears, Attalus whispered, “Thank you, my friend.” The marten squeaked and curled round his arm before climbing into the nest with Leita, as though to say she’d watch over her.
Next, Attalus took all the old bedding outside. He’d need to wash and air it thoroughly, but for now, just getting it out of the cave felt right. That done, he stripped from his sweat-soaked clothes, but upon standing, his head began to spin.
He was finally healing as dragons were supposed to—quickly. But it seemed his strength had a limit so soon after his ordeal.
To his surprise, Thalia was there to steady him.
Put your arm over my back. I’ll take you down to the stream.
Very magnanimous of you.
Trust me, getting you clean is a favor to us all.
Attalus did chuckle this time, leaning on the unicorn and letting her lead the way down to the nearby stream.
He shuddered in the chilly snowmelt water as it gushed around his legs.
Even so, he plopped down in the middle of the flowing water, scouring himself head to toe with soap, moss, and a bit of sand.
It took time and effort to scrub away all the dry scabs and crusties, and Thalia had to remind him to take breaks.
I’ll be unhappy if I have to fish you out of that—don’t you dare splash me! The mare pranced away from the shore, horn bobbing threateningly when Attalus cupped his hand around the water, ready to indeed splash her. You’re feeling better, I see, she noted, eyes narrowed.
“Happy to be alive,” he confirmed.
The water was especially refreshing and sweet, washing away the days of sickness and drudgery.
Although his mind and body were still exhausted, a new vitality was growing inside him, a thankfulness to be sitting there at all.
In his life before, he’d never have imagined sitting happily in a woodland stream, ass in the mud and rocks, but right then, it was exactly where he wanted to be.
Thalia endured him splashing around like a foal, as she put it, for a while longer before he did indeed make her fish him out.
I already have a troublesome foal—I don’t need a second, she grumbled as she nudged him along back up the slope to the cave.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what’s happened while you’ve been away.”
I don’t suppose I would. That’s for Leita to tell you. Besides, I don’t reward misbehaving foals. It sets a bad precedent.
Attalus snorted as he rooted around in the supplies for a proper meal.
His stomach clenched and languished, wanting to scarf down anything he could get his claws on, but he knew that was a good way to throw it all back up.
Instead, he took a modest handful of dried meat, fruit, and nuts, taking it with him outside to sit in the sun and dry.
Slinky joined him, and they wiled away the afternoon enjoying the growing heat. Thalia retreated into the shade of the trees and eventually the cave, growing crankier as the afternoon warmed.
Perhaps you should go sit in the stream, Attalus suggested cheekily.
Oh, yes, you’re feeling just fine. He received a nip to his head as she walked past. Don’t do anything lecherous while I’m gone.
He’d be a liar to say he’d thought nothing of the sort, because of course he had with his beautiful mate lying within reach, but his body had other pressing needs.
As the sun began to set, Attalus moseyed back into the cave. Stomach full and scales dry, he settled down with his mate in the nest again, pulling her into his arms. Slinky curled up on his hip, whiskers twitching happily as she nuzzled the blankets.
It was a sentiment Attalus shared. He might not care for the…amenities of the outdoors, but right then, this was paradise.
Attalus woke again the next morning feeling even better than yesterday—and with his mate blinking back at him. Her dark sapphire eyes widened, and Leita sat up in their nest with a gasp.
“You’re awake!” she exclaimed, running her hands down his face and over his shoulders.
“So are you,” he crooned, more than happy to lay back as she satisfied herself looking him over. He almost purred as she did just that, although her touch held a franticness to it as she searched him, running her fingers over his chest and then up to gently probe his throat.
“This is all healing well,” she muttered, as though she didn’t quite believe it.
“Dragons heal quickly—when there’s nothing interfering with us, that is.”
Leita nodded, although her attention didn’t really seem to be on him but rather his body. And not in the titillating way, either. She assessed him with the worried calmness of a healer checking on their patient.
Attalus shifted in the nest, not quite liking that dynamic. He was grateful to her, whatever she did, but he didn’t want to be seen as a burden. Not more so than he already was. He wanted to be a mate to her, a partner, not the likes of a heavy, cumbersome trunk.
When she peeled back the blanket to reveal his once-wounded side, she exposed far more.
He had to bite back his grin when she nearly choked.
“You’re naked.”
“That I am.”
Leita finally looked up, a lovely flush of plum coloring her cheeks as she gazed about the cave. She saw the new nest and opened food stores but didn’t find his soiled clothes or the remains of Slinky’s kills.
“You’ve been up already,” she concluded.
“I have indeed. Thalia helped me bathe. Although, I could stand to go again if you wanted to…”
Leita threw herself up into standing without her hands even pushing off the ground. Turning on her heel, she strode quickly for the food stores. “Hungry—you must be hungry.”
“Yes…” Attalus sat up in the nest, yawning as he watched her aimlessly fuss with her back to him. “But I ate yesterday, so don’t rush.” He reached out a hand, beckoning her back. “Come sit with me a while, I want to see you.”
But Leita shook her head, refusing to look at him. “Later. I should see to…” She never finished that thought, instead seeing Thalia there and hurrying over to her.
He suspected they shared one of their silent conversations as Leita checked the unicorn over, much as she had him. He wasn’t proud of feeling a bit jealous—if he had to be her patient, at least let him be her only one.
Leita was careful to look at Thalia’s flanks and legs, seemingly worried about a scuff Attalus hadn’t noticed before on her back right leg. Whatever it was, Thalia eventually grew tired of the fussing and shooed Leita away.
Rather than return to Attalus, Leita made herself busy around camp. She marched outside and cleaned his dirty bedding, using magic to beat the sickness and bodily fluids out before heading down to the stream, the blankets floating behind her.
Attalus blinked after her, not quite sure where he’d gone wrong.
Be patient with her, Thalia advised, her mind is quite busy.
That was likely an understatement, given what he knew of Leita.
With a sigh, Attalus accepted that he’d have to get up and eat all by his lonesome. Even Slinky had disappeared.
He pushed down his disappointment at not being tended to longer with a hearty breakfast of meat and nuts.
They would need to refresh their stores of dried foods soon or start hunting for fresh meat.
His water skein was also long empty, and so Attalus took it as an excuse to traipse down to where Leita was.
Dipping in the skein upstream, Attalus wasn’t subtle about catching Leita’s eye. She made a valiant effort to ignore him, but eventually, the strength of his stare compelled her to look.
Attalus grinned as though they’d just so happened to meet gazes serendipitously.