"I can lie like this for a while," she said softly. She was surprised to hear that her voice, even in dragon form, was the same. "I haven't heard rocs since this morning. I will lie a while and digest."

She wouldn't even consider returning to her human form with an entire bear in her belly. That could not end well.

Her furs were gone. She had taken them inside her when shifting, and yet her pointed stick lay beside her. She wondered why clothes could shift with her—they had reappeared last time she had returned to human form—and not the stick.

"If I ever do find others, maybe they'll know how the magic works."

She tilted her head, scales clanking. Magic? For so long, she had thought this a curse, a reptilian disease. Yet lying here, her belly full and warm, it was hard to think of shifting as a curse.

"Maybe it's a gift," she said to the rustling autumn leaves above. "And maybe others like me are out there, alone and afraid. I have to find them."

As she lay digesting, she thought she heard a roc once, but it was distant, possibly only a crow. When the sun set, Laira rose to her clawed feet. Her body pressed against the trees, and fire sparked in her maw, raising smoke.

Tonight she would not sleep in a hole, small and afraid and hurt. Tonight she would fly.

She crashed through the canopy, showering autumn leaves, and into the sky. The stars spread above her, an endless carpet. The Draco constellation shone above, brightest among them, cold and distant but warming her soul. She beat her wings, bending trees and scattering leaves below. For so many years, she had felt weak, miserable, and worthless.

"But now, in this night, I am a dragon."

She clawed the air and flew north, gliding on the wind.

ISSARI

 
ISSARI

When Issari returned to her bedchamber, she found the witch waiting inside with a bucket of leeches.

"Hello, princess," said the crone, hissing out that last word like a taunt. She smiled, revealing toothless black gums, and sniffed loudly. Her bulbous nose quivered, the hairs on its moles twitching. "Yes, yes, I can smell it. Smells like ripe fruit." She smacked her lips. "The blood of a princess—a more powerful elixir than the ichor of gods."

Issari stood at the doorway. Instinctively, she pulled out her amulet and held it before her. "Leave this place!" Her heart pounded, and cold sweat trickled down her back. "You are not to enter my chambers again, old woman."