The bright firelight filled the whole forest clearing, creating a myriad of flickering shadows darting between the tall trees beyond. Far above, points of starlight pierced the blackness of night and shone brightly in the clear sky. It was a calm evening, quiet and serene.

Larieth sat close to the fire, glad for the warmth the fire provided. He had wrapped himself tightly in his deep blue cloak, edged with silver thread that now seemed to glow a golden-orange colour in the light of the fire. His long black hair draped around his shoulders, framing his face and slightly rugged features, giving him the look of a well travelled soul. He sighed and looked up from the dancing flames, his gaze moving slightly around the fire to where Wyldfyre was seated, also looking into the flames.

Wyldfyre was also wrapped in his cloak, protecting himself against the cold that the night had brought to the air. His was a deep forest green, a colour he had chosen himself, though it shared the same silver threaded highlights that Larieth's bore. His dark coloured eyes were fixed on the fire, the reflection of the flickering light painted upon them. He raised a hand to forehead, and slipped his fingers back through his silver hair, not as long as Larieth's, but approaching it. In the other hand, just beneath his cloak, he held his oak leaf pendant, still fastened around his neck as it had always been. His expression belied the sadness that he did not wish to show.

For a few moments there was silence between the two as Larieth looked sadly at his friend and adopted charge who, in turn, stared at the fire, his body completely still.

"I wish I could remember, Larieth. I wish I could have just one memory of that place." Wyldfyre dipped his head slightly and sighed.

"Given the circumstances of Athyria's demise, I would say it is a blessing you do not remember," Larieth replied. His calm gaze slowly melted into a sympathetic expression and he added, "I do understand though, Wyldfyre. A memory of home is a precious gift, and one I wish it was within my power to give."

Wyldfyre looked up at his companion and managed a slight smile. "Larieth, my dear friend and guardian, please don't blame yourself for that. You gave me the gift of survival, of life itself. And I could never repay you enough."

Larieth found himself smiling as well, even though he had not intended it. He gave in to the feeling and allowed himself a small chuckle, raising his head to look at the stars above. "Ah, but raising you and sharing this world with you have given me more joy than I had thought possible. It has been my pleasure and my honour, my child."

"But still, Larieth, having kept you so far away from your own people for so long. Why do we not visit them one day, bring you back to your own home? If not my own, I would like to see yours. After all, I can make the change now, you yourself have said that I am almost indistinguishable from others of your kind when I use my dragon form."

"It is true, you have become adept at changing your form. But as I have always said, it is perhaps a little early to introduce you to a way of life that unsuited to your trueform. One day though, when you have had more time in your dragon form, I will take you there." Larieth raised his hand to his face and looked at his fingers, imagining his talons there instead, as they should be. He did indeed miss his trueform, more than he had admitted to Wyldfyre.

Wyldfyre nodded and allowed his smile to widen. "I look forward to that day, Larieth. I truly wish you did not have to hide your trueform as much as you do, and I love every moment I spend up there in flight with you."

Larieth smiled and bowed his head slightly. "I am glad you approve, Wyldfyre. Wings are a gift that I sometimes don't understand how other races do without. Maybe one day-"

With one swift movement, Larieth swept aside his cloak and rose to his feet. His expression changed, peering into the trees and turning his head to listen. Wyldfyre did the same, caught off guard by his friend's actions. "I hear them too," he whispered. "You go on, I'll stay here and see if it's trouble."

With a simple nod of agreement, Larieth turned and moved across the clearing, disappearing into the trees opposite. Wyldfyre watched him go, then turned back to the source of the noise he had heard, the noise of footfalls, stepping through undergrowth and snapping branches on the forest floor. There was more than one person, and though they might have been trying to be stealthy, they weren't succeeding.

After a few moments more, three figures came into view, melting out of the shadows into the clearing. Wyldfyre already had his hand on the hilt of his sword, attached to the belt beneath his cloak, and as the figures came into the firelight and revealed themselves, he was glad to have the blade by his side.

They were all men, roughly dressed in well-worn clothing, using torn and scuffed leather padding as armour and with faces sporting more than their fair share of scars. The group eyed Wyldfyre with expressions completely painted with their malicious intent. Almost right on cue one of them produced a slightly rusty short sword, while the other two had paired daggers. The man with the sword stood ahead of the other two.

"Really," Wyldfyre sighed, keeping his hand tightly on his sword, still hidden beneath his cloak and undrawn. "Could you have been more obvious?"

"If we're so obvious," the lead man proclaimed arrogantly, "then there'll be no need for an introduction, eh, lad? So if you'll be kind enough to take your hand off whatever weapon you have beneath your cloak there, and start handing over your valuables, then we'll be on our way."

"This weapon?" Wyldfyre said, drawing his sword. It was a slightly longer and much better maintained blade than that of the lead intruder, though he was still very much aware that he was outnumbered three to one. He smiled a little. "Anyone care to try and make me?"

The three men all laughed, almost in unison. Wyldfyre wondered if they'd practiced that. "How about if we all do, lad?" They began to advance towards Wyldfyre, weapons raised.

Wyldfyre backed off, keeping his back to the fire, as the three men spread themselves, flanking Wyldfyre and cutting off his exit. By keeping the fire behind him, he could not be attacked from behind. Wyldfyre paused, waiting for the first move, his sword raised to defend himself. "Come on, Larieth," he whispered beneath his breath.

The man with the sword was the first to strike, bringing his blade high above his heading, and charging towards Wyldfyre, intent on cleaving his skull in two. It was easily deflected with a simple flick of his own sword and a foot stuck out to trip the attacker, sending him flailing to the ground with a thud, the sword knocked from his hand.

Almost as quick to act was the man with daggers, now to Wyldfyre's back after he had tripped his first assailant. Wyldfyre knew the blow would be coming, and swung his sword back round, catching one of the daggers square on, sending it flying across the clearing. The swipe also tore a gash through the leather padding the attacker was wearing, giving him more than enough reason to rethink his assault and withdraw. Wyldfyre began to back off across the clearing, keeping the three men infront of him.

"Ya little weasel!" The third man cried, looking at his two companions. "I'm going to... to..." His voice trailed off as a strong wind whipped across the clearing and a shadow blocked out the starlight. His eyes were drawn upwards to the source of the disturbance, and his expression faded from anger to shock and fear.

Wyldfyre sheathed his sword and leaned back against a nearby tree. "Right on time," he chuckled.

The blue dragon slammed its forepaws down into the centre of the clearing, the flames of the fire whipping about frantically from the disturbance to the air currents. It roared to the sky, rearing up on its hindpaws to a full height of about three metres and looked angrily at the man who had spoken last. "You're going to what?" It bellowed.

There was a clattering sound as daggers were dropped to the ground. The first attacker, who had still been lying motionless on the floor near the fire, jumped to his feet, suddenly unaware of the pain of the fall. He managed to cry out, a strangled cry of terror, before joining his two comrades in a panicked run out of the clearing, forgetting whatever weapons they had dropped in favour of their own survival.

The blue dragon snorted in disdain and dropped to its four paws, swinging its head around to face Wyldfyre. The dragon and elf stared at each other for a moment. Then they laughed. The laughing continued for a minute or two, as if the two were party to the greatest joke ever told.

"Great timing, Larieth." Wyldfyre managed through his continued chuckling. He pushed himself upright from the tree and patted the great creature on one of its forelimbs. "Though you do realise, every time we do this, we're hardly helping the tales of dragons here grow any more positive?"

Larieth considered this for a moment, then dipped his head between his shoulders in the best imitiation of a shrug that a dragon could give. "Men like that, who prey on others for survival, they should not be heeded." He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating deep within himself and willing his form to change.

Suddenly, Larieth's scales became almost like water, flowing and shifting. His neck retracted into his shoulders, and his back arched upright as his limbs shortened and straightened. Paws became hands, claws became fingers, and finally his muzzle flowed back into his head, forming a much more human shape. The blue colouring faded to a human skin tone and his eyes adopted a human iris, rather than the cat-like dragon eyes his true form wore. After the few moments it had taken for the change, Larieth the human stepped forward from the chaos, back in the form he had been in before leaving the clearing, and already wrapped in his blue cloak.

Wyldfyre had turned his back on the scene almost immediately, having seen the change many times before, in both Larieth and himself. He busied himself retrieving the weapons that had been dropped by the roaming bandits and returned to the fire, sitting by Larieth and placing the blades on the ground for him to see.

"Three daggers and a short sword... And none in any great condition." Larieth sighed, examining one of the daggers again. It was fairly plain, dull silver blade reflecting the light from the fire unevenly, except from the area near the hilt that had rusted. "They can't have been particularly successful in their dishonest trade to be sporting such poor weaponry."

"Not very lucky either, to bump into the only two dragons in the province." Wyldfyre added, smiling.

"Very true, Wyldfyre," Larieth nodded. "Still, we will try to fetch at least a few coins for these at market tomorrow. Perhaps some blacksmith will fancy their hand at restoring them."

Carefully, Larieth produced a sheet of thick folded cloth from inside his cloak and wrapped the blades with more care than perhaps they were due. He tied the bundle together with some twine, also from within his cloak, and set it down by the fire.

Wyldfyre smiled for a moment, remembering the look on the bandits' faces when they had seen Larieth descend into the clearing. Of course, Larieth wouldn't have truly harmed them, not unless they posed a serious threat to him or Wyldfyre, but the legends and myths of dragons, who did not frequent this part of the world (not in trueform, anyway), played nicely into their hands.

"Well, then," Larieth began. "I don't think they'll be back tonight. We should rest."

Wyldfyre nodded and reached out to a travelling backpack that he had left near the fire. He extracted some sleeping furs and arranged them on the ground a safe distance from the fire, but not too far away. Larieth did the same, and the two drifted off into a peaceful sleep.


WYLDFYRE

Don't misunderstand me. I don't like fighting. I'm not a bloodthirsty creature who roams the world in search of only conflict and nothing else. Larieth taught me better than that. But I don't like people that prey on others to make their fortunes, and I have learned to defend myself in case of ever meeting such people. Just like we did tonight. No, I will only resort to violence when faced with the same.

And besides, you should have seen their faces!

It wasn't the first time we'd pulled the dragon trick either. All right, so maybe it's not right to inspire fear in dragons. Larieth and I both know that real dragons are much kinder than the stories in this part of the world would have you believe, but when you can avert such a useless conflict in record time, who are we to argue?

Still, I would like to get out of this place and escape to somewhere we can fly freely a little more often. I miss the sky. Strange for a creature with no natural wings to think that, I suppose, but being raised by a dragon, whether in trueform most of the time or not, can have that affect on you.

Ah, well. Something to look forward to, I suppose.


LARIETH

Maybe I shouldn't admit it, but it was funny. Seeing those three, their hearts so set on stealing our possessions and doing whatever harm they needed to get away with it, suddenly forget their goal and flee, it was very amusing. Perhaps it's because of the truth of the situation, that a dragon would never harm anyone that didn't try to harm him first, that I can find it so funny.

Of course, when we reach Aspinara tomorrow and go to the market and the local taverns, there will likely be at least one story of a loose dragon in the woods being told. And even more likely is that I will have been grown out of all proportion to the point where I could hardly make my way through the forest without knocking the trees down, never mind hide myself there.

Fear and the nead to appear brave in the face of fear... it does strange things to the hearts and minds of men. To be honest, I don't always understand it, even though I have lived through it for the last twenty or so years of my life. Sometimes it is frustrating, sometimes amusing.

Wyldfyre says he would like to visit the dragon lands. To see my home. I would so very much like to take him.

And yet, I cannot.