Misted Deceit

The Question

Pain.  Blinding pain.

White.  Stark white.

The dragon struggled to open his eyes.  The world around him was blurry and disfigured; he recognized nothing, and with a splitting headache, clear thinking was impossible.

"I think he's coming around," a feminine voice sounded faintly in the distance of his mind.  Indistinct figures moved around in his field of vision.  He blinked once or twice, forcing his eyes to focus.  This met with limited success; the shapes became dragons and the canvas of a tent became visible above him, but pain discolored everything, as distant objects were still blurred.

Where am I?

"Where ... where am I?" he mumbled his thought, words slurred.

"Oh.  You are awake.  Gave me quite a scare.  Thought you were a goner," a dark, violet colored dragon commented brusquely.  "Sol, fetch me some of those herbs over there on the table, will you?" she told a dragon invisible to him.

A snort sounded off to his left, and a masculine voice responded, "Which ones?  There are five hundred different types."

Mumbling under her breath about lacking proper education, the purple dragon left him.  "No, not that one, you idiot.  That's for easing constipation.  That one is for headaches.  Honestly Sol, did you even go to school?" he heard her comment, annoyed and exasperated.

Returning to him, she offered him a damp, slimy leaf.  He almost was sick.  "Eat this; it will soften the headache.  I'm Zaganzerinah, by the way, but everyone calls me Zanzi," she added quickly,  "And this is Solar Night," gesturing to an almost-black dragon with brilliant, fiery wings.

Reluctantly, he swallowed the plant, and just about spit it out.  He gagged.  "What is that?"

"A leechleaf.  I told you, it'll reduce the headache.  And to answer your first question, you are in my tent at camp."

"Camp?  What camp?  What do you mean?"

"We're on the SunDown Plains near the Solar Tower, which is close to the mountains dividing Pyrrain from Sylldol," Solar Night recited dryly.  Zanzi rolled her eyes.

Suddenly, the tent flap swung open, and a vivid, orchid colored dragon walked in.  Looking up from his position lying down, he met her eyes.  As he did so, a feeling of recognition washed over him.  She smiled, and, with tears in her eyes, started to cry, "Tal..!"

Zanzi poked her sharply in the ribs, and gave her a strange look.  He watched as the new dragon's eyes grow wide in understanding, then shock.  Tears began to roll down her cheeks, and Zanzi then led her outside.  He could hear the healer's voice, whispering softly to the dragon.

Slowly, the two dragons entered, and the stranger knelt down beside him.

Legion?  LongClaw?  What in Pyrrain was going on?  "I-I'm sorry.  I don't know him.  Did he die?"

His question was met with more tears.  "Y-yes, he did," Orchid said shakily.  Suddenly composing herself, she looked at him, "I apologize.  I don't think I ever caught your name."

My name?  he thought in puzzlement.  He stared at her and then hung his head in shame.

"I ... I don't know,"  he whispered, his body shaking.  He looked up.

"Who am I?"