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Something is wrong with her.His first reaction was to assist her, to check on her.

Why should I care how she is?He cared because he wanted to fight with her. He couldn’t do that with a dazed person.

That was, at least, what he told himself.

He was unsure of what to do. He couldn’t physically check her in this form, but he didn’t feel comfortable in his human one with her any longer.

How do I truly check if this is a trap?

Fear. She would react to fear.

Breathing in deep, he filled his lungs with air and then released flames against the ceiling. It wasn’t enough to reach her, but it should make her scatter.

She didn’t move. She didn’t even flinch.

It is not a trap.

Rurik blew a ring of fire.

“Shift,” he chanted, and he did, that ring coming back to encase him in flame.

He quickly approached her and smelled the places on her that had blood.

He checked her hand, expecting to find the slice of a knife, but found what he could see was the bite from an animal. Staring at it, he didn’t quite understand why she would have used an animal to injure herself so that she could use blood magic against him.

Choosing to disregard it because it didn’t matter, he pulled her forward to look at the back of her head.

He winced. It hadn’t bled this much yet when he brought her in here. Actually, he hadn’t even really checked on her wellbeing since he’d thought it was merely a knock.

Her hair was stained red, the blonde making it easy to see just how badly wounded she was.

She cracked her skull.

He didn’t have the knowledge to heal such a wound. When his kind were injured terribly, they would burn themselves so they could regenerate with the magic he had once used on her legs.

He couldn’t do that to her.

Not just because of her fear of fire, but because she may not survive him doing so. The skull was too vital, too delicate. But hecouldobtain the knowledge to help her if he really wanted to.

He laid her down and locked her back inside the room. Remaining in his human form, he sprinted up the tunnel and came to the alcove he’d hidden from her. He passed through the fake rock wall illusion to enter a room that was filled with herbs, spices, and crystals. Everything a Witch could possibly need.

Turning to the two chests in the room he brought in here from his book collection, he unlocked it using his magic and opened it. He began to rummage through the spell books, flicking through the pages quickly to find something that would tell him what he needed to make.

Even though these were made for Witches for the use of witchcraft, his kind could learn the spells and potions if they wanted to. Most didn’t, and he’d detested the idea because it was designed for her ilk.

After going through multiple books, he found something that would be of use and began to make the concoction he needed. Since a Dragon was making it, it would be imbued with dragoncraft, making it stronger than it was supposed to be.

He had all the right ingredients ready and available, so it didn’t take him long to make it. Once he did, he went back to the Witch and applied it to the back of her head. He also applied it to her hand so it would heal as well.

Eventually it would bubble and then become a hard shell while the magic worked the area that it was applied to. The information on it told him it was capable of healing muscles and bone even after a length of time, but every hour delayed in applying it, meant that it may not heal to what it once was.

She will most likely scar.But as long as her brain was fine, he didn’t care.

Rurik then shifted back into his Dragon form and laid at the entryway to the prison cell. He kept a close eye on her. He was concerned that she would bounce to her feet to attack him again so she could flee.

With quiet angry huffs, he waited.

I will yell at her, laugh at her, and then I will only open this cell to feed her.