A cool breeze ruffles Katsuki's hair as he gazes at the golden light peeking over the treetops. His legs kick at the open space under him, his hands running along the rough bark of the old beech tree on the outskirts of the village. He takes a swig of water from his waterskin.
Below the sun are the distant blocky shapes of the Endeavoran villages. Surrounding the settlements, the ground is nearly bare. Large flat rectangles of churned-up dirt lay next to them, graveyards of what they used to be. Forests circle the villages, keeping their distance like wounded animals.
To destroy their lands for no reason other than their convenience. Katsuki could not think of another people worse than the Endeavorans.
If they had left the land alone, Katsuki could have marched over there, found himself a dragon, and brought back its horn to save his tribe. So really, this sickness is all their fault.
Absent-mindedly, he opens the small, polished wooden box in his lap and lifts out a string of orange beads. Then he places them around his neck and over his bare chest. Smaller red beads follow, along with blue claw-like stones.
He ties various belts around his waist, and a sheath for a greatsword is attached to a brown leather one. The others he will attach small pouches to after the ceremony.
When the sun emerges, he brushes his bangs up his forehead and descends down the tree to begin the path back to his tribe. He scowls at how his boots kick up dirt as he drags them.
How could he not have a single quest idea?
Every child of any tribe spends the first sixteen years of their life dreaming of their quest. Making plan after plan of how they would prove their worth.
He'd always assumed it would come to him one day. Or someone of great power would whisk him away, like that stupid Deku. If it could happen to someone like him, why shouldn't it happen to someone like Katsuki?
He could be like some in his tribe and let the chief choose for him. But he knows the old hag would make him pick flowers or some other weak task.
When he glances up to find the village entrance in view, he suppresses a grunt of annoyance. Unfortunately, he doesn't have long to pick something.
Ahead of him, twenty or so people crowd around the front steps of the Great Hall. The space they take up is underwhelming.
Above them is the chief. She stands tall, adorned in ornate, lustrous armor with a long deep red cape flowing behind her. Her hands rest one over the other on the hilt of her equally decorated greatsword.
Red eyes land on him, commanding his legs to move. The crowd passes by him in slow motion. Some familiar faces smile at him and give him cheerful thumbs-ups, but their faces are blurred.
He climbs the three or so steps up to the platform in front of the building and turns to face the chief. Closer now, he sees how she leans on the sword for support. Sees the thin sheen of sweat covering her face.
Steeling himself, he bows to her, then faces his tribe. Then she speaks, her voice ringing strong, louder than necessary for a small crowd.
"We are gathered here today, for one of our own is ready to take up his Quirkquest."
His dry tongue passes over the roof of his mouth as he tries to calm the chaotic beating of his heart. Then, when he glances at the chief, he finds her watching him out of the corner of her eye.
"It is times like these when tradition is crucial. No war, storm, nor meer illness may keep us from honoring our ancestors or those who come next." She extends a hand toward him. "We are Fallen Star, and every person that joins our ranks makes us stronger!"
She turns to face him, and Katsuki returns the gesture.
"Katsuki. What do you pledge to Fallen Star Tribe?"
The young blond juts his chin to the sky. "My name!"
The chief gives him a level nod. "And what shall you do for your tribe?"
He swallows, fists clenching at his sides. Then his eyes wander to the crowd. His tribemates shiver and cough; some are clutching at each other just to stand.
Can they survive this with no able bodies and no hope for a cure in sight?
The chief is swaying on her feet in her heavy armor, and her eyes are half-lidded. Her white knuckles blend in with the paleness of her skin as she grips her sword, leaning on it heavily.
He raises his eyes once more, new life coursing through his veins.
Back straight, chin up, he declares, "I will bring you the head of a dragon!"
The chief's expression betrays surprise, but when he peers closer into his mother's eyes, he finds a warm, almost blinding pride in them. Then she flashes her pearly white teeth and lifts her sword to present it forward in two open-faced palms. "Then bring the head of a dragon; you shall."
The boy dips his head and accepts the sword with both hands; his reflection stares back at him through the polished steel. The smooth beads hanging from his neck chime against the metal.
Two calloused hands cup his cheeks and bring his head up. A light kiss is pressed to the top of his head, which both retreat from immediately.
His mother tilts his head up to meet her gaze as she says, "May your spirit guide you well."
He nods, sheaths the sword, then turns and heads down the steps. His tribemates applaud, and some clap him on the back as he moves through the crowd.
A hand grabs his forearm, and he turns to his right to be met with Denki's wide, determined smile. "Badass, dude!"
He returns the gesture with a squeeze of the other's arm. "Told you I had something." Then he lets go, only to have a different arm drape over his shoulders.
"A dragon, huh? Those things no one's seen for literal decades? Good luck finding one!" Hanta pulls him in close to bump their heads together. "You sure you're gonna come back?" A strained undertone of worry beneath the boy's voice was lost on most other ears.
The blond pushes Hanta's face away with his full palm. "Of course, I'm coming back! What do you take me for, an unbound?"
Hanta's smile falters for a fraction of a second. "Then go slay yourself a dragon then, man!"
Near the entrance, Chiyo is waiting with a pile of supplies at her feet. So the boy leaves them with a firm promise. "I am coming back."
When he grows closer, the old woman reaches into the satchel and pulls out a yellowed, rolled-up paper. Then she unties the string around it and unrolls it to present it to him.
"I've marked where I last found a dragon and a few other places worth searching."
He grunts his thanks, rolls the map back up, and shoves it into the bag. A week's worth of clothes, provisions, and some furs for trade are in the bag. Surrounding the bag are other small pouches filled with coins and other various things, which he tied securely to his belts one by one.
When he glances back up, the old woman casts her eyes away and sighs, "You are very stubborn."
"Don't worry." He ties his bedroll to the bag, then slips it over his shoulders. "I'll get your stupid dragon's horn!"
The boy marches past her and pauses at the entrance poles. The smooth, carved wood is comforting under his fingertips. This will be the last time he feels them before he completes his quest.
With a deep breath, he sets his foot outside the gate and continues onward.
Behind him, the old woman prays under her breath, "May your spirit guide you back to us."
As the sun rises further into the sky, the blond marches along the worn path toward Endeavor.
It isn't long before he reaches the river that separates Fallen Star Tribe from Endeavor.
Several stone bridges cross the river's width at different points along it. Some are built by Fallen Star and some by Endeavor, but all entry points to Endeavoran lands have sentries. Men in plain, smooth, shiny armor with tall spears stand at the end of the bridges.
For as long as he could remember, he'd always known the Endeavorans to be cruel.
"Come on, guys! Death to the deathmongers!" Katsuki leaps from the undergrowth, swinging his wooden sword in wide, aggressive arcs at the sack full of leaves tied to a pole in front of him.
Three others follow, releasing their battle cries and hitting the dummy with their swords.
"Die, Endeavoran scum!" Katsuki raises his sword above his head, then brings it down on the dummy's head. The sack tears open, and bright red, orange, and yellow leaves scatter.
The others thrust their swords into the air and cheer.
Pumped with adrenaline and praise, Katsuki points his sword forward and commands, "This way! Kill the deathmongers!"
"Yes, Chief Katsuki!" The children rush past the dummy and into the forest, further away from the village than before. As they run, they bash their swords at rocks, trees, and particularly annoying bushes.
Then they come to a halt in front of an old, worn stone bridge, doubling over and panting at the small burst of exertion. Katsuki recovers first, standing tall and ready to continue his warpath.
"This way!" he declares with the overconfidence that children grip tightly in their pudgy fingers.
He makes it halfway across before a hand grasps his free one and yanks him back.
"Kacchan, wait!"
Katsuki whirls around to the fourth boy that was following him around. The boy's hands are free of any wooden weapon.
"Let go of me!" he shouts, ripping his hand away. Then, after wiping his hand on his shirt, he huffs, "What is it, Deku?"
Deku recoils as if burned, his hands retreating to pull on the bottom of his shirt. His eyes turn down to the cobblestone beneath them.
Irritation shoots through Katsuki like an arrow.
"Go on then!" Then, raising his sword, he pokes it into Deku's chest, making him stumble back. "If you have something important to say, just say it already!"
"It's just...." Then, hesitantly, he shrugs towards the bridge. "This is the border." Finally, he throws a glance toward the other side of the river. "That's Endeavor."
Katsuki's face heats up. "I know that!" He jabs Deku in the chest again. "What? Are you too scared to go over there?"
The boy's eyes snap to his, albeit shimmering with unshed tears. "I'm not scared!"
Then, a toothy grin spreads across Katsuki's face. "Of course! Why would you be? They'd all accept you back with open arms, wouldn't they?" Katsuki advances, pushing Deku to the railing with the tip of his sword. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, deathmonger?"
"Stop it!" His tears finally begin to fall. "You're being mean, Kacchan!"
"It's the truth, isn't it?" Katsuki glances at the other three around them. When they're acknowledged, they all nod and agree. "Just because your mom did a quirkquest doesn't mean you're Fallen Star too. Everybody knows it!"
The boy shrinks down, pulling his knees up to his chest and hiding his face behind them.
"Nothing else to say, Deku?"
His body shakes as he cries.
"Whatever." Katsuki rolls his eyes and turns to the others. "Let's go kill some Endeavorans!"
"Yeah!" the others shout, waving their swords toward the sky.
The blond leads the charge over the rest of the bridge. A strong sense of satisfaction settles in him as he sets foot on the forbidden land.
The four resume their path, peering into ponds, catching frogs, and breaking into short battles.
When the Fall Season's sun was directly overhead, an unusually warm glow was cast over the forest, making the four yawn. Rubbing his eyes, he calls for a break, quickly becoming a group nap.
When Katsuki wakes, the sun is just peaking out from behind the mountains in the west. He distantly wonders if dinner will be soon, but the realization hits him.
He turns to the closest person next to him and shakes his shoulder. "Get up! Get up, you lazy lump!"
The boy sleepily bats his hand away, murmuring, "Go way... Ka-suki. 'M tired..."
"It's almost dark, and we're still in Endeavor! We gotta go!" Katsuki then grabs a fist full of the boy's hair and yanks on it.
"Ow!" the boy cries out, rubs his head, then glares at Katsuki with a nasty look. "What'd you do that for?"
Katsuki gets up to his feet and brushes off his pants. "Because we gotta go, idiot!"
The other two stir, groaning, "Quiet down!" and whining, "Come on!"
"Get up, or I'll leave your butts here!"
Distant footsteps draw his attention. His veins turn to ice.
He turns back, grabs the boy's forearm, and pulls him up, whisper-screaming, "Get up! Get up! Someone's coming!"
"Stop-" he whines, but Katsuki slaps a palm over the boy's mouth.
"Katsuki, what's going on?" one of the others asks, rubbing his eyes.
"Shut up!" he stresses. "We gotta go now!"
The footsteps grow closer, along with the low mutterings of at least two people.
His heart races in his chest, and his body burns in need of action. He lets go of the boy's face, picks up his wooden sword, and pulls him away.
"Is someone there?" The heavy voice of a man rings through the air. Katsuki didn't know much Outsider yet; he was still learning. His heart plummets.
Two soldiers emerge from behind a large rock formation. Their armor glistens in the last few rays from the sun; shiny, smooth, impenetrable, unstoppable. The red Endeavoran crest on their breastplates leers at him.
One has his sword in his fist. The sight of real steel makes his hands tremble.
The other has an ugly scar stretching diagonally over the length of his face. Katsuki notices this because the soldier is looking directly at him. The soldier's pace quickens and he calls out, "Hey!"
Katsuki takes a deep breath, swallows his fear, pushes the boy away, and cries, "Run!"
While the other three stumble over their feet as they scramble away, Katsuki grips his sword tightly in his tiny hands and charges towards the soldiers with his loudest battle cry.
"Die, deathmongers!" he screams as he thwacks his sword against Ugly Scar's legs.
But then the sword is plucked from his hands, and a fist closes around his wrist.
The soldiers are saying something to him, but Katsuki can't hear them over his screams of "Die!" and "Let me go!"
He pounds his fist against the arm holding him, but then that hand is captured, and he is left to thrash and kick at them.
But the energy fueling his outburst quickly recedes, leaving him limp in his captor's hold.
"--- done now?"
The other soldier crouches down to his level and speaks softly. "You're ------ far from town. Are you lost?"
Katsuki glares at him.
But the soldier only smiles at him and asks, "What's your name, little guy?"
Katsuki spits in his eye, sending him stumbling back and wiping his face. "Fall into a ditch and die!"
The soldier shouts what Katsuki is sure is a curse.
Ugly Scar readjusts his hold on Katsuki, gripping him tighter. Almost painfully. "I --------- the ------. I think it's a barbarian."
The other wipes his face one last time and huffs, "Obviously. Normal children don't just -------- attack people."
The boy's rage seeps back into him in a steady stream. "I'll kill you!"
"But what's it doing so close to town? Don't they ------- stay away from ------------?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't care for their children. It does look a bit scrawny. Maybe it left because it's hungry?"
"I'm not scrawny!" Katsuki shrieked.
"So what do we do with it? Take it to the ------ and wait for someone to come to get it?"
"Do you really want to keep an eye on it all night? What if no one comes for it?"
The soldier makes a sour face. "Well, what else do you ------- we do? We can't let it run ------ and get into town."
Ugly Scar jostles him around, assessing him. Katsuki squirms in his grip. "It does seem to have some meat on it. I know a guy who'll pay a ------ amount for extra help around the farm."
"I'm not going anywhere with you! I'll kill you first!"
"Though the barbarians are ------ -------------. What if they start something over this? We just got out of the last war, and I'm sure the ---- would have our heads if we started another one -----------."
"Relax, any parent letting their kids stick their noses where they don't belong --------- doesn't care enough to go find them. Think of it as giving a kid a good home."
"Die, Endeavoran scum!" he screeches as he turns his head and bites down on Ugly Scar's hand at full force.
The soldier releases his wrists, allowing Katsuki to shoot forwards and strike his fist between the other's legs. The soldier falls to his knees with a cry of pain. Katsuki darts past him and heads toward the border.
"Hey!"
"Get back here, you little ----!"
His body sings with adrenaline, pumping like a raging storm. All he needs to do is make it across the bridge, and he'll be safe.
He glances behind himself and finds the two soldiers close behind him, rapidly getting closer.
The bridge comes into view in the distance.
One of the soldiers makes a grab at him, but Katsuki dodges. The action causes him a momentary stumble. But a moment is all they needed to take an extra step closer and grasp the back of his shirt.
"Hold still!"
"Hurry, just ----- it out!"
Katsuki thrashes, tears stinging in his eyes.
A furious cry rips through the air, then the hands are gone. The boy hesitantly opens his eyes and lowers his arms from his face.
Someone is standing over him. New fear courses through him, but it's washed away when he recognizes who it is.
The woman defensively standing over him with a sword drawn is his mother. Her voice is thundering and earth-shaking as she growls, "Touch him again, and you will die."
The soldiers back up hands up. The bland one offers, "Hey, we were only bringing him home!" He shoulders Ugly Scar. "Right?"
He nods. "We're only trying to do some good here."
Katsuki couldn't see the expression on his mother's face, but he could imagine what it looked like. Cold, furious, murderous. She is unmoving, a viper waiting to strike.
"But he's home now. So, everything's good, right?"
"Leave," she hisses. "Fallen Star will remember this."
The two nod and back away slowly. She watches them silently until they disappear into the dark woods.
The silence is reassuring until it becomes suffocating. His mother's muscles are still tense, and she watches the distance intensely.
Katsuki wipes his wet face with his dirty hands. Then he slowly rises to his feet, holding his arms close to his chest. Then, hesitantly, with a scratchy voice, he asks, "Mom?"
She mutters something, but Katsuki can't hear it.
"Mom?" he tries again.
His mother whips around and sheaths her sword, yelling, "What were you thinking!"
"I just—"
"You know better than this! I taught you better than this!"
Katsuki's eyes drop to his feet, but a hand fists the hair on the top of his head and forces his eyes up. "Look at me! Do you know what could've happened to you? Do you know what Endeavorans do to us? You could've died, Katsuki! Died!"
Tears sprung up in his eyes as he screamed, "I was fine!" He pulls at the hand in his hair, clenching his teeth as his hair is pulled too.
She releases him, but it's followed by a stinging pain on his cheek. He barely registers the loud slap that cuts through the air as he falls back to the dirt and clutches his face in his hands.
"Never come out here without me again! Do you understand me?"
He draws his knees up to his chest and covers his head with wet hands.
"Do you understand, Katsuki?"
"Yes!" he sobs.
She's quiet until she sighs, "You're just like your father. One day it will get you killed just like him too."
Tears and quiet hiccups fall from him until he has nothing left.
When he lifts his head, his mother doesn't look at him. "C'mon. Let's go home."
Katsuki picks himself up and follows at a distance behind her.
When they reach the bridge, he hears a boy cry, "Kacchan!"
A smaller hand grabs him, and he looks up to find Deku. His face is soaked with tears and snot as he wraps his arms around Katsuki. "Kacchan, I was so scared!"
Katsuki pries himself away from him, pushing and kicking him away. "Don't touch me!"
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he seethes.
He follows Katsuki by his side. "I ran as fast as I could to get your mom. I'm glad we came just in—"
Katsuki watches until his mother is far away before he turns on Deku, grabbing his curly locks in one fist and punching his gut with his other.
"Ow! Why—"
Katsuki pulls the boy close, growling, "Don't tell her anything ever again. I was fine. You did nothing, you stupid Deku."
He lets go, letting Deku stumble back and stare at him with wide, tearful eyes.
Then Katsuki catches up with his mother without another word.
He slinks back into the forest to walk along the river. It would be ideal if he could go on his entire quest without speaking to an Endeavoran.
It doesn't take long before a sturdy oak log comes into view. It stretches along the thinnest point in the river. Half of its roots are upturned from whatever storm had knocked it over; the others are dug deep into the earth, holding it in place. He lifts a foot onto the log and presses his weight onto it. It creaks under him, but nothing breaks.
After giving it a long, scrutinizing glare, the blond climbs atop the log, his arms extending to keep his balance.
The river rushes below him, water crashing over smooth, worn stones. If he were to fall from this height, he'd risk getting swept up in the current.
With a steady breath, he takes the first step. The log is silent, so he takes another step. His heart steadies with every quiet step until he reaches the middle. Water crashes violently beneath his feet.
He takes a step and the wood groans.
Sweat drips down his forehead and off his nose as he focuses on the short path ahead of him.
His heart pounds in his ears, competing with the water. He takes two more steps, and he hears a sharp snap.
The other side is barely six steps away.
He takes another step, and the log crunches beneath his foot, and his foot goes through it. He falls forward, bracing himself with two hands clawing at the bark for balance.
The blond tries to pull his foot free, but the tree latches onto him. Finally, with a grunt of frustration, he yanks his foot out of his boot, freeing himself. But the rigid movement causes the log to crack and snap under his weight.
The roots he thought to be embedded into the soil were exposed and dangling underneath the log. The only thing supporting his weight right now is a handful of twigs and eroded dirt.
Breathing, picking up speed, he reaches forward and slowly pulls himself closer to land.
Some of the roots snap, letting that side of the log jerk downward. The angle causes more roots to break away and dig out others. The log shifts again, and he hears a loud crunch as the wood caves under him.
Rough bark scrapes his palms and bare foot as he scrambles up the log, splinters embedding in his skin as he climbs the steadily sinking bridge.
Then it rolls, and he thanks the spirits for the broken start of a branch he can grab before his body is cast off the log. His backpack slips from his shoulders, and he screams curses as it bobs down the river, sharper rocks tearing it open and letting his things scatter.
With a huff, he hugs the log above him and inches forward at an agonizing pace. The exposed roots of another tree at the edge of the cliff are almost within reach.
The blond swings his legs back and forth, gaining momentum. The log moans then snaps in half under the pressure. He lets go, leaping for the roots.
His hands clasp around them, and he doesn't waste time pulling himself onto solid land. Then, he glances back just in time to watch the log fall into the river with a loud splash. It floats down the river, and like his backpack, it is smashed to smithereens on the rocks.
Heart pounding and breathing ragged, he falls on his back, letting his head thump against the ground. Clouds sparsely dot the sky, the dark clouds having dispersed overnight.
A blackbird flutters across the sky. Then another follows. A swarm of black rises from the trees, scattering into the wind in a feathered frenzy.
The blond rises to his feet, not bothering to brush the dirt from his pants, and stalks into the forest beyond, picking splinters out of his hands. As he moves further and further into Endeavoran land, his muscles tense more and more. Squirrels dart from branch to branch overhead, all heading in the same direction.
Something scampers over his bare foot, and he barely suppresses a scream. Various black, brown, and gray-furred rodents skitter along the undergrowth. They, too, are fleeing.
A commotion sparks in the distance, loud and animalistic. Then, an ear-splitting roar thunders over the air like a shockwave, sending the boy to take cover at the base of a sturdy tree.
Tremors shoot through the earth and up his spine at chaotic intervals, steadily growing stronger.
Swallowing his fear, he peers around the tree, scanning the area. Then he sees a large mass of the brightest red he's ever seen.
It barrels toward him faster than any animal he's ever encountered before.
Then, two magnificent wings unfurl at its side, one flapping frantically, the other bent at an awkward angle.
And then it dawns on him. This is a dragon. He's barely set his feet in Endeavor and already found a dragon.
With a feral smile, he draws his sword and crouches behind the tree, ready.
As the dragon grows closer, it slows, stumbling over its large talons. A thick band of metal circles its neck with a long chain dangling from it and dragging through the dirt behind it. From what he can see, the dragon is about twice as tall as him. But its size doesn't faze him; he'd fought bears and come out unscathed.
The large, flat ruby scales wider than the span of his hand concern him, though. He knows his mother's sword is the best in all of the tribes. It was custom-made from the most precious materials the tribe could contribute. It will not shatter.
But the scales along its body looked as tough as stone. The sword may not break, but it may not pierce the dragon's armor either.
So he will aim for its throat and underside, he decides.
The dragon's pace slumps to a crawl as it pushes onward. He thanks the spirits that the dragon seems exhausted, possibly injured. If he slays this dragon now, he'll have the quickest quirkquest in his tribe's history. Not to mention that it's close enough that they could possibly return for the body to use the scales and meat.
After the dragon passes by him, he strikes.
He bursts from the bushes with a cry, sword clenched in both hands. He charges the dragon, and when close enough, he plants his feet and swings the blade in a wide arc, twisting his body with the motion.
The dragon whips around with a startled yelp, tripping over its feet as it side-steps away from his attack.
He follows through with his motion, ducking into a roll, just missing the tail that aimed to slam him to the ground. But just as he stands, the dragon bats him down with its wing.
He rubs his head and opens his eyes to see the dragon fleeing. The boy collects his mother's sword and jumps to his feet, chasing after it.
The dragon is frantic as it runs, talons catching on fallen logs and horns tangling in low-hanging tree branches. Then it leaps over a collection of boulders, the chain following over. Its back leg hits one of the boulders, causing it to fall on the length of the chain. The metal band suddenly yanks the dragon back, making it fall.
Victory sings in the boy's body as he rushes to the pinned animal. Hunting had never been this easy before. The dragon basically delivered itself straight to his feet!
The dragon whines as it pulls at the chain, clawing and pushing at the solid rock, sealing its fate. Then it slips, falling behind the stones.
The boy stalks closer, neck craning to peek at the beast. As he rounds the boulders, he finds the dragon collapsed. Its head lays in the dirt, and then, eyes like two rings of fire, gaze up at him.
Something close to pity curls in his stomach as he stares at the creature. It was no different from the deer he had shot the day before, yet he felt sick. This was probably the last dragon around; its home stolen, and its group picked off over the years.
But that could also happen to his tribe if the illness was left unchecked. It was one life for hundreds. So he would make this quick, he decided.
He closes his eyes and softly mutters, "May your spirit be at peace." Then opens his eyes, raises the sword above his head, and strikes it down.
He's too late to notice the glint in the dragon's eyes.
A loud clang echoes through the air as the reverberation tingles up his arms. A burst of smoke obstructs his vision. He coughs and fans the smoke out of his face. Finally, the smoke starts to clear, but there is no dragon.
The metal band lay in two pieces at his feet. One side cut straight through, and the other bent apart.
The smoke disperses quickly, leaving a boy in its place.
He looks around the blond's age. Wild tufts of bright red hair shoot up from his head, two short horns protruding from just behind his hairline. His ears are long and pointed. Wide, fiery eyes stare owlishly at him.
This was supposed to be it! He'd found a dragon, and he was going to kill it and save his tribe! He was supposed to be spoken of as a legend!
Rage sparks in his chest, swirling and building until he's thrusting the sword in the boy's face, screaming, "What kind of trickery is this!?"
The boy's arms shoot up to cover his head, red scales erupting from his otherwise human-looking forearms. "Wait!" he cries in the outsider language.
The blond kicks the other's leg and switches from his language to Outsider. "Where is the dragon!?"
"Stop! I am dragon!" His accent is thick and sticks on certain syllables. He'd never heard anything like it before.
"Obviously, you aren't! What? Think it'd be funny to trick me!?"
"I did not know you were there!"
The blond growls out his frustration and stamps his foot. "Turn back into the dragon so I can kill you!"
The dragon boy opens his mouth, revealing two rows of pointy teeth, but snaps it shut abruptly. His pointed ears swivel behind him, twitching to and fro until they pinpoint what they're searching for.
The blond strains his ears, and moments later, he hears voices shouting far away. They speak in Outsider. Endeavorans.
The dragon-boy then refocuses on the blond, eyes filled with alarm. "Help me!" he begs, voice lowered.
He tightens his grip on his sword. "Why are they after you?"
The boy quickly reaches down and taps on the metal band. "They--" His mouth flaps open and closed like a fish as he searches for the right words. "Bad magic keeps me dragon. They want dragons!"
He glances toward the noise and then back at the boy. "Why should I help you? I want to kill you too."
The dragon boy follows his gaze, growing more panicked. "Help, then I turn into dragon for you!"
The blond extends his free hand. "Promise?"
He vaguely hears, "It went this way!"
His brows scrunch together in thought as he sounds out the word. "Pro-mis." Then he takes the blond's hand and speaks clearer, "Promise!" His fingers are tipped with black, sharp fingernails.
The blond pulls the other up and crosses a short distance, only stepping on the dragon's tracks. He pauses before a tree and hoists the dragon boy up first. Then he quickly follows behind. They climb until a thin layer of leaves conceals them.
Soon, a large group of seven or so people pass under them. They wear impracticably complex armor with red flame crests over their breastplates.
Then they stop, one whipping around on the other. "I can't believe you let it get away!"
"I thought you already locked the cage!"
"That's your job!"
"Well, nobody told me that! It doesn't matter anyway! It's not like it'll get far on foot without being spotted by another patrol!"
"We have deadlines to meet!"
"Hey, guys? It transformed. The collar is over here," another contributes.
"I found another trail! It looks human enough to be it!" a different guard adds. His voice comes from the direction the blond was first traveling from.
The blond cups a hand over his mouth to muffle his snicker at the Endeavoran guard's stupidity.
"Hurry up and go catch it then!"
The guards haste to follow the false trail, leaving the forest silent again.
The dragon boy releases a sigh of relief, slumping on the branch above him, muttering something in a foreign language.
The blond doesn't let him relax for long before he thrusts the sword in his face once more. "Turn back, now! I want to get my stupid quest over with!"
The redhead startled, inching away from the blade. "You are not done yet. Need help."
"What do you mean! I just helped you! I'm done with my side of the deal. Now you do yours!"
A toothy grin spreads across the reptilian boy's face. "Need help for others, not just me. You helped me. Now you help others."
"You never said anything about anyone else!"
"I did not say help me. I said help."
"I didn't agree to that!"
He frowns. "You promise! You promise you will help! I will not turn into dragon until you help!"
The blond growls out curses as he sheaths his sword and descends the tree. "I'll find a different dragon!"
"Wait!"
The boy huffs and stomps in the direction the Endeavorans came from.
"Wait! We will make a deal! Please!"
A head pops up in front of him. He pointedly glares away.
"You have a quest. Quest is like a goal, yes? Your goal is to kill me?"
"Need to bring back your damn head," he grumbles.
The dragon boy lights up. "You help others, and I will go with you! Much better than carrying my head, yes?"
"I'll find a better dragon!"
A grip around his wrist has him pivoting on his bare foot, fury singing in his veins at the audacity of this guy to touch him.
The dragon boy's face was grave as he said, "I am only free dragon left. I need help to help others. Please."
The blond glares into the fiery eyes before him, jaw clenched.
Agreeing to this would add countless days to his quest. It's unknown how long his tribe has, but it can't be long. The blond is Fallen Star's only hope. What if he takes too long?
But this dragon is also a boy like him. He has no allegiance to the blond's enemies. He'd done nothing to warrant his death except to hold the cure to the sickness on his head. This dragon has family, those of which he'd be willing to die for. His eyes hold a passion, a love burning brighter than the boy had ever seen. The dragon would keep his word if the blond would as well.
He closes his eyes, releases a breath, then shakes the hand off his wrist and grumbles, "Fine. I'll save the stupid dragons."
A shaky breath falls from the boy's mouth. "Thank you. Thank you."
He keeps his eyes forward and motions for the other to follow. "C'mon. Let's go before those shiny buffoons come back. I need some supplies from their market anyway."
As he marches ahead, the dragon boy follows at his side, sharp teeth poking from under his upper lip as he smiles.
The boy jerks his eyes away once more.
This is a horrible idea, he decides.