We’re not turning into a dragon.

“Yes, we are!” Croi is so excited that she jumps up and twirls around before coming to an abrupt stop when she sees a fae boy crouched on the other side of the clearing. A feral snarl has peeled his lips back to reveal sharp white teeth. When Croi blinks, the boy hisses. His magick has the red edge to it that Croi associates with hostility, but curiously, the boy seems to have misplaced all his clothes. Unless he doesn’t ever wear any. Croi suddenly wishes the cat was around so she could use it as a shield, but if this boy is its master, she doesn’t blame it for disappearing. If it were her, she would too.

The boy’s skin is brown with black and yellow stripes overlaying it. His hair is a mix of the same black and yellow colors. He’s slender to the point that his bones are poking out. When Croi’s eyes drop lower, he hisses. She obediently raises her eyes back to his face.

Even though the snarl is doing its best to disfigure his features, it cannot hide his beauty. A sharp nose and high cheekbones accentuate amber eyes ringed by a deep, dark brown. Croi and the fae boy regard each other silently. Croi’s not sure what to do next. Run away? Her feet don’t seem inclined to cooperate. She is also extremely reluctant to leave the fire. The boy may not even let her leave. He’s probably hungry and she’s prey.

“Look, I’m sorry I inhaled your fire. I didn’t do it intentionally. I just took a breath, and it jumped into me. I didn’t know I’m a dragon—”

“You think you’re a dragon?” The boy’s voice is startled but warm, reminiscent of lazy days spent dozing in a patch of sunlight.

See. Even he is laughing at us.

Croi ignores her inner self.

With the snarl gone, he’s even more beautiful. His beauty gives substance to her lack of it. In fact, his beauty is an affront to her ugliness. Croi grimaces and pulls the scarf tighter around the lower half of her face.

“What of it?” she responds haughtily. Dragons are infinitely more powerful than any creature or kin. They don’t have to be beautiful. They don’t need to be afraid of being magicked or bound. And no one ever tries to eat dragons.

“Nothing, nothing. Now turn around so I can put on some clothes.”

The boy makes a shooing gesture with his hand that Croi finds very irritating. If he has so much modesty, why is he walking around naked in the first place? She turns her back to him anyway, and the flames warm her comfortingly.

“You may look now.” He has dressed in a pair of green-and-black pants and a green shirt that seems to have been washed many times. The ensemble is strange when contrasted with the stripes on his skin. What kind of kin are striped? Those stripes look very familiar to Croi.