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Lyric

“ Y ou've had plenty of time off,” Tolen said. “This next race is perfect for you.” He'd been calling me every day now, telling me about races I should be doing.

“Lyrican isn't ready.”

“Are you hurting still? Didn't your doctor check you over and pronounce you good to go?”

“He checked me. Lyrican refused to shift. He won't let any doctor examine him.”

“What does he say to you?” Tolen asked.

“Nothing. Or, well, very little. He has repeated ‘no more racing’ a few times.” I rested my elbows on my desk, my head in my hands. My phone lay in front of me on speaker.

“Remember, you're the one in charge.”

“I used to be. Not so sure anymore.”

“You can command a shift.”

“I can. Yes. But I've never had to before. I ask or he asks. There's never been a moment of needing control in that way. Respect is shared.”

“Well, this is your career. Your talent that you both share.”

“But if he's hurting--”

“In that case, you need to see the doctor again and force a shift.”

“Just give me another couple of weeks. Please.” I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled hard.

“All right, but your fans and the press want to hear from you. They want to know when you'll be back and where. Can I at least book you for a couple of TV interviews?”

“I wouldn't know what to say. I'm asking you, Tolen, please don't do anything right now.”

“All right. I'll check in with you tomorrow.”

The connection broke before I could tell him not to call me every day. He was a good agent, but he could also be a real pushy pain in the ass.

“Lyrican,” I said aloud. “Please talk to me. Tell me what's happening with you.”

Silence.

“If I go back to the doctor, will you shift for him?”

Silence.

“I don't want to force it, but if you won't talk to me I'm going to make an appointment for this week.

No more racing.

“I know. You've said that a dozen times in the last few weeks. Are you afraid you will feel pain again?”

No more racing.

Doctor Tsu was an expert in sports medicine. He'd been seeing me for five years through various pulled muscles and other aches and pains that came from pressing the body, dragon and human, beyond its normal limits.

Today, he led me through the door to the shifting yard. The area was bare dirt surrounded by a twelve-foot privacy fence.

“Lyrican,” he said to me, addressing my dragon. “I hope you will shift for me today so I can help you to see what might be wrong. Why don’t you want to race anymore?”

“He's not responding,” I said.

“Will he shift for you?”

“Not so far since I returned from our roost.”

“Have you tried forcing it?”

“No.”

“I have medication that might help make it easy on you both. Lyrican will feel no pain.”

“What does it do?”

“It puts your beast into a mentally suppressed state. When you shift, he will be able to follow easy instructions without getting upset. Then I can examine him fully. I have all the equipment out here that I’ll need for that.”

“You mean sedate him?”

“Yes.”

I sat down on a nearby bench, elbows on my knees, head bowed. “I don't know.”

“It's harmless. He won't feel it. He probably won't remember, either.”

“Well, all right. If you think it's for the best.”

“I do. For the both of you.”

Doctor Tsu went to a series of cupboards lined up against the outside wall of the office. He returned with a tray. I didn't look to see what was on it. I never did like shots.

“If you could please take off your shirt,” he said. “After I give you the shot, I'll ask you to disrobe all the way and then force the shift. It should be quite easily accomplished. I promise you, it will all be painless.”

“Except for the shot.” I let out a nervous laugh.

“It'll only be a little pinch and quite quick.”

When I set my shirt to the side, Tsu cleaned the spot on my upper arm. The open air felt cold against my skin even though it was a hot day. The pinch came. As promised, it was brief.

When it was done, I stood up and began to undo my belt.

“I don't feel anything.”

“Give it a couple of minutes.”

I set my shoes and the rest of my clothes beside my shirt and stood naked in the middle of the yard looking up at the vast blue sky. My mind began to spin. I lowered my gaze to the doctor and blinked several times.

“You look a little blurry,” I said.

“Go ahead and force the shift now. It will all be okay.”

I'd never done anything like it before. If I wanted to shift, Lyrican would push himself through into this world. We were a team. Our thoughts worked in tandem. We were the same person, yet he also had his own mind and body. It was truly a magical connection and I never wanted, or thought about, taking advantage of it.

I shut my eyes and let my thoughts merge with my dragon. He was there, but not in the usual way. Let go, I thought. Be free.

I focused on wings and scales and claws on my hands and feet. There was a whirl in my mind as if a little wind had invaded. My vision turned misty. There was a moment of heat, then cold, and then I stood tall and proud and alert in my dragon form.

I'd done it!

Lyrican was finally out, shifted in full form.

“Hello, Lyrican,” Tsu greeted. “Nice to see you again. I would just like to look you over if you don't mind.”

Lyrican huffed. My thoughts and will were pushed to the far background until I was a mere spectator of my own beast. A heat began to build deep inside. Lyrican didn't use his fire lightly. Not for anger or manipulation or to show off. But right now, the flames inside him began to rise. None of that felt like sedation to me.

I scrambled to make my conscience known, only to be put aside by my dragon’s strength.

I needed to warn Tsu. His shot hadn't worked. But there was nothing I could do. Lyrican swept me aside as if I had no importance in this matter.

My dragon turned his fierce gaze upon the doctor. He snorted and heat came through his nostrils making swirls of smoke on the still, hot air. His tail switched back and forth.

“Now Lyrican, there's nothing to be upset about. I won't hurt you, I promise.”

Lyrican, stop! Let the doctor look at you. He can help. If you're hurting--

A great roar interrupted my mental dialogue.

Tsu let out a sharp yell.

My wings flapped at the air. Our wings. With another great roar, this time with fire bursting through the yard, we rose upward. Tsu quickly jumped out of the way just in time to avoid the fireball that shot forth from my angry beast’s snout. The doctor began to shift out of sheer survival, clothes ripping, his scales forming a barrier to protect himself.

Lyrican, stop!

That was the last thing I saw before Lyrican took off as if the gun shot starting an important race had just sounded. The sky came up blue and endless before us. The wind pressed against our leathery wings and hard scales.

That was when I felt it. The muscles where the wings connected to our shoulder blades began to ache with an old pain I'd experienced before. It had started about six months ago whenever we pushed ourselves hard to cross the finish line first. We'd been treated for the pain. Lyrican had gotten massages. I had gotten pills. Both had helped the pain recede until we were healed enough for the next race. And the next.

But this time the pain came first, and we weren't racing. The wind was at our back. The warm air moved under us to help lift our body higher.

Deep inside my dragon mind, I let the empathy of my emotions course through. Our thoughts became one.

I'm sorry, I didn't know you were still hurting. I am hurting. We are hurting. But that's okay, we can fix it. When you're ready. When we are ready.

Need. Comfort. More time at the roost. We are in agreement. We need time and rest.

Thank you. Thank you for reminding us we need our time alone, too.

I couldn't argue with my beast now that his pain was mine. Just because I didn't feel muscle tenderness in my human form didn't mean we weren't hurting.

I love you.

It didn't matter if it was the human or the dragon that said it. We were one. Our bond was comprised of memory and wind and the weaving of a life together. That was the way it should be between man and beast. Between shifters.

Together we flew toward the wild forest beyond the hills where our human home lay. Our dragon home rested in the trees that gently swayed on the mountain breezes. Each was as comforting as the other. At the roost, we had a tiny shelter I’d built. I had stashed blankets, clothes, food and water for the moments when my human self wanted to curl up under the stars. We would be fine for a while where no one could find us without Wi-Fi and phones and agents calling us at all hours to book more races. Lyrican would subsist on fish from the freshwater rivers and I, if need be, could snack on the jerky and crackers and ramen I had stored.

Maybe we'll never go back.

The sentiment came from our combined voices. I knew this was important for him and for me. For racing had come to a point where it was killing my beast.