She found the blue dragon sprawled disconsolately on a patch of muddy reeds and grasses. The dragon rested her head on her front paws and stared out at the moving water. She didn’t lift her head or give any indication she was aware of Thymara until she spoke. “We should be moving, not waiting here. There are not many days left before the winter rains, and when they come, the river will run deeper and swifter. We should be using this time to seek for Kelsingra.”

“Then you think we should leave the brown dragon?”

“Relpda,” Sintara replied, a vindictive note creeping into her thoughts. “Why should her true name remain unknown while mine is not?” Sintara lifted her head and suddenly stretched out her front feet and extended her claws. “And she would be copper, not brown, if proper care were given to her. Look here. I’ve split a claw end. It’s from too much walking in the water over rock. I want you to get twine and bind it for me. Coat it with some of that tar you used on the silver’s tail.”

“Let me see.” The claw was frayed and softened from too much time in water. It had begun to split at the end, but luckily it hadn’t reached the quick yet. “I’ll go ask Captain Leftrin if he has twine and tar to spare. While we’re at it, let’s look at the rest of you. Are your other claws all right?”

“They’re all getting a bit soft,” Sintara admitted. She stretched her other front foot toward Thymara and spread her toes, extending her claws. Thymara bit her lip as she checked them;they were all slightly frayed at the ends, like hard driftwood finally surrendering to damp. Thinking of wood gave her a possible solution. “I wonder if we could oil them. Or varnish them to keep the water away.”

The dragon twitched her foot back, very nearly knocking Thymara over. She examined her claws herself and then responded with a reserved, “Perhaps.”

“Stand up and stretch out, please. I need to check you for dirt and parasites.”

The dragon rumbled a protest but slowly obeyed. Thymara walked slowly around her. She hadn’t imagined the changes. Sintara had lost weight but gained muscle. The constant immersion in river water was not good for her scales, but walking against the current was strengthening the dragon. “Open your wings, please,” Thymara requested.

“I’d rather not,” Sintara replied primly.

“Do you want to shelter parasites in their folds?”

The dragon rumbled again but gave her wings a shudder and then unfolded them. The skin clung together like a parasol stored too long in the damp, and it smelled unpleasant. Her scales looked unhealthy, the feathery edges showing white, like layers of leaves going to mold.