Page 18 of Randall (The Tenth Step #3)

Flynn

As he ran through the woods, Flynn marveled at how much his life had changed over the last few days.

Scared, he’d run. Frightened, he’d hid. Afraid, he’d taken to the river and barely survived the churning, icy swirls of fast-running water.

He mourned the loss of his people, especially his master, who had taken him in as a child when he showed promise.

His parents had feared his bright mind and eager childish attempts to heal all the animals, but his master, the village healer and shaman, saw something in him that proved promising.

He’d excelled in the rudimentary teachings of earth magick, staying focused on herbs and simple spells that aided in healing and fertility. None of those skills would bring back his parents, his master, his clan…

There had been a moment when he thought to let go of the log, to let the river take him, to sink beneath the snow‐melted water.

As he floated in that stupefied haze, a vision overtook him.

Two men, who he now knew were Randall and Darvon, stood together, extending their hands to him, their eyes bright and eager.

He came to spitting up water, tangled in a thicket of accumulated brush along the riverside.

He scrambled out of the water and snagged the fish that the brambles had also trapped.

Flynn shredded the scales, choking down the raw fish, all the while praising the goddess for providing when he needed it most, and not just for the food.

Two someones waited for him. He had to reach them. Fate had another path for him…

If only his people hadn't had to perish.

As he jumped over a fallen log, scouting as he’d said he would, he quietly mewled, singing his clan's mourning dirge in his mind.

The calls of the forest animals around him grew louder.

Flynn slowed, listening to their bitter tirade.

Something had invaded their woodland shelter, something big.

Predatory. A loud, huffing groan pulled Flynn up short.

He froze, his tail still except for the tip; his ears swiveling and whiskers twitching as he attempted to locate where the sound had come from.

Another stifled groan carried from some place in front and to the left of him.

Flynn slunk silently from the deer path into the underbrush.

He suspected it might be the dragon, and although he had an idea in his head about how big it would be, when he peeked through the foliage, he was still shocked by the size of the creature.

Green-grey scales shimmered in the shafts of light that squeezed their way through the treetops.

“Go away.”

The low, grumbled voice startled Flynn. He backtracked a few steps, lowering his belly to the ground.

“I said… Go. Away.”

Flynn’s eyes popped open. The dragon had spoken.

He’d never heard of a shifter who could speak in his animal form.

Another deep rumbling moan, followed by a wet, hacking cough, prompted Flynn to cast aside his worries for himself.

He circled around so he could approach the dragon where the beast could see him.

“A cat,” the dragon chuckled, squinting.

The light laughter choked off into another pained groan.

“Fuck. How do I always manage to get myself into these messes?” He rolled, appearing to Flynn as if he was going to get up, but then collapsed again.

“I don’t suppose you could run and get help?

Oh, what the hell am I doing? Talking to a cat like it’s going to answer.

” The dragon closed his eyes and sighed.

Flynn shifted, slipped forward, and knelt several feet away from the dragon, afraid to touch him, although he really wanted to feel if the scales were as smooth as they looked.

He ran a critical eye over the dragon and spotted the burned and oozing wound along his side, covered by a sharp-taloned claw, and made the decision that he should try to help.

His gut and intuition, maybe a little bit because his mates had mentioned a dragon, told him this wounded shifter was important to their cause.

“This cat can talk,” Flynn whispered, holding himself very still as the dragon blinked.

“So you can.”

“I’m… I’m a healer. I might be able…” He gestured feebly toward the wound, biting his lower lip. “Or my mates…”

The dragon lifted his head, studying Flynn, who flushed under the scrutiny.

He was naked and wasn’t used to others seeing him.

He rarely shifted with his clan, preferring to step away and shift on his own rather than suffer their harassment.

For a male Fisher, he was small, and the others liked to “play” with the “runt.” The dragon was, however, a heck of a lot bigger than his bullies.

“Please,” the dragon murmured, lowering his head again and moving his claw away from the wound.

Flynn inched closer, afraid the dragon might change his mind at any moment and take a swipe at him.

“I’m going to touch you now,” he warned, lifting his hands to feel the torn skin.

A sickening dread filled him the moment he touched the torn slash of flesh.

His stomach curdled, and he jumped up and ran to the bushes, throwing up and heaving through the aftermath.

“Demons.”

The dragon’s flat tone about who had done this didn’t surprise Flynn. He wiped his mouth and straightened, turning slowly. “They decimated my people. I only escaped because I was away from my village when they attacked. When I saw the flames, I ran. I… I might be the last.”

“My heart grieves with you,” the dragon offered in sympathy. “Our scales offer excellent protection, and I believe that is the only reason my clan survived to escape. This wound… We only have a few unprotected areas.”

“Where are the other dragons now?” Flynn asked, returning to the dragon’s side, kneeling, and carefully touching the scaled forearm. The scales weren’t smooth like he’d imagined. When he dragged his fingertips across one, he discovered a gritty, roughened texture.

“I sent them on to the palace in Wintervale, but there was a sorcerer, and I decided to take matters into my own hands. Foolishly, I was injured. In pain, I flew. Somehow, I kept myself aloft to make it this far.”

Flynn nodded. “I took refuge in the river… Visions led me here, to my mates. They wait for me. It seems you scared some humans, and they are keeping an eye on them until I return.” He snickered, realizing how ridiculous their fear was now that he’d met the dragon, who didn’t seem fearsome at all.

“Mates…? But you said your people…?”

Flynn sobered. “Yes, but they aren’t Fisher cat shifters like me. They’re a mage and a Fae, who I’m sure will want to help you. I should go get them.”

The dragon’s eyes narrowed. “Why would they want to help me?”

Flynn chuckled at the dragon’s skepticism. “Because they’re good people, at least I think they are. I’ve known them for less than a day, but I have to believe that Fate wouldn’t give me mates that were unkind. I’m certain their magick can heal you. I’ll go—”

“Wait… please.” The dragon lifted his head when Flynn moved but settled again when he stopped.

“What is it?” Flynn shuffled closer. He really wanted to shift, hating how all his bits were showing, and there were some annoying sticks and rocks under his knees.

“You’ll be safe here, and…” Flynn looked around until he spotted Randall’s raven.

“See there, that raven. He belongs to my mate. He’ll keep watch over you. ”

“No. Please. Stay. Talking to you distracts me from the pain. Can’t you send the raven back and stay with me?”

While that was certainly an option, Flynn wasn’t willing to commit to that course just yet. Another thought popped into his head. “Why haven’t you shifted? I thought all shifters were like me. Our wounds heal when we shift.”

The dragon grunted. “I tried and tried and tried. I think whatever poison the demon used is keeping me from shifting.”

Flynn fell onto his butt in shock. “Oh shit. That’s not good. Okay… I’ll try.” He hurried to the tree and stood beneath the branch the raven perched on. “Will you carry a message to Randall for me?”

The raven gave a low, throaty caw, flapped its wings, and flew off the branch. Flynn was just about to curse the bird for leaving when it returned and landed closer to him. The raven hopped along the tree limb and then hopped onto Flynn’s shoulder, its talons digging into his skin.

Flynn ignored the raven’s clawed pinch as he looked into the bird’s black eyes. “Dragon is injured by demon poison. Come quickly. Now go and tell your master.” He offered his hand to the raven, who moved there and took flight with an outward toss of Flynn’s arm. “Fly fast, my friend.”

Message sent, Flynn returned to the dragon’s side. If talking to him was helpful, Flynn would do it, but he had an important question to ask first. “My name’s Flynn. What’s yours?”