A lone, black horse trudged across the sand, rider hunched over the pommel of the saddle. Dove, sweltering under the weight of her cloak but glad for the shade of its hood, thought as she had been for the past three days of water, and a decent meal, and a place to get Caitir inside before he died on her. She wondered how far she was from civilization, how long before she could stop rationing her and Caitir's supplies, how.... how........

From a distance, one would have seen a bit of the black shape slide sideways into the sand, the rest of it collapsing nearby, the blistering sun still pouring mercilessly down upon the fallen figures... If there had been anyone watching.


"MAELEK!!"
about a week had passed since Jennifer had found the dragon corpse in the desert just a few days' journey east of the cavern. Jennifer had come solely to trade with the often elusive and mistrusting desert elves and caravaners for supplies that she would need, and food for the both of them. She was also vaguely curious of what had killed the rotting dragon corpse that was in suspended animation in her preservation quarters. She had brought her dragon apprentice with her only for the intent of using him to help her cart the supplies back; however, he was more than ready to comply with her terms, as he more than likely gone anyway.

"MAELEK!!GET BACK HERE! THIS IS NO TIME TO BE HUNTING SANDWORMS! THEY'RE NOT EVEN IN SEASON!" She added, watching the draco romping playfully umongst the sand dunes with a touch of contempt. It was quite obvious he was not listening. Stubborn as an ass, that one is, she thought to herself, not unkindly. She sighed and rolled her eyes, trudging across the sand in only partial armor. She stood at the top of a sand dune and surveyed the horizon, shading her eyes with her hand as she searched for the tell-tale smoke and the wavery image of caravans, distorted by the rising heat from the sand.

Instead she found something she wouldn't suspect.

Directly to her left were two lumps of black, lying in the sand. One of them was human; well, human-ish, and the only way she could tell was because of the cloth waving at her in the hot breeze. She trudged over and knelt by the fallen person, lifting the hood to take a better look at her face.

"Maelek!" She finally called. "C'mere. Help me with this, will you? We've got something more interesting than caravans or sandworms."

Caitir heard the voice. He opened one ice-blue eye slowly and wearily, and saw... The horse scrambled to his feet and began backing away from the stranger, only to lose his footing on the loose sand and fall back to his knees, ears pinned back against his neck and eyes flaring.

Jennifer backed up a few feet, her eyes cooly set on the stallion. The silvery dragon came up behind her and peered at the horse curiously.
"Maelek," Jennifer said almost casually, "let the horse know we're not going to eat him."
Maelek gave a snort and sent an emotion--not a string of words, because they wouldn't understand each other--of happiness to the other beast's mind.

The stallion slowly, warily got to his feet again and took a single tentative step toward the dragon, disregarding the two-legs. His ice-blue eyes still showed fear, but it was less wild than before. He snorted quietly and tossed his head to let them both know that they didn't worry him much, then went to stand over his fallen mistress, suspicion welling in his consciousness.

Jennifer sighed once again. "Ask him if he will carry his master; we will provide medical attention, if it's possible."
Maelek turned to the horse once again and sent two thoughts--one an image of his master on his back, and the other a genuine request for him to follow them.

The horse sent agreement to both images, then stepped aside and knelt beside his mistress, nudging her with his muzzle and sending frustration at being unable to get her to wake up.

Jennifer strode over silently and pushed the rider onto the horse, trying to keep the figure in an elevated position---or one that resembled one, anyway.
She looked at them both. "We'll have to get supplies next trip; this is more important." She strode over to Maelek's side as she spoke, retreiving a water pouch and striding once more to the horse's side. "There's no way you'll be able to stand the trip back without some manner of hydration." She poured a bit of the water into her cupped hand and held it under his muzzle.

Caitir snorted quietly and slowly put his muzzel into Jennifer's outstretched hand, swallowing the water and not taking his eyes off of Maelek. 

Jennifer wiped off her hand and lifted the body onto Caitir's back, motioning for him to follow them. Maelek sent a thought confirming that, andn set off beside his mentor across the dusty sands.

Later....

Darkness. Not an entirely unpleasant sort of darkness, but the sort that was good for slinking in, the sort that came on moonless nights when the street lights of Khor'at'n kept the stars from shining too brightly... And then light, far too bright for its own good, came streaking into her eyes, causing her to shut them tightly again, roll over and attempt to burrow into the cave floor. "Damn it, Caitir, why didn't you wake me before sunrise? Didn't I tell you--" Dove stopped abruptly and sat up, blinking and moving backward a few feet to get out of the direct sunlight. "Where the hell are we?" she muttered, glancing around almost worriedly.

"Ah," Jennifer said simply. "So you are alive, after all." At the moment, she was fully armored and coming back from coating a layer of liquid steel on the first finger of the right wing, and was very hot and tired and sweaty.
"I do beleive we're somewhere in the northern mountain ranges, neighboring the desert you conveniently chose to collapse in."

Dove fell back onto the cave floor and began spewing a colorful string of curses in at least eight understandable languages. After she was finished, she got to her feet and went to Caitir, glaring at him harshly. After a few moments of intense silence, she threw her hands up with a cry of "Aiya!", Caitir snorting irritably. 

Dove then turned her attention to Jennifer, subjecting her to an appraising glare that lasted a moment too long. "And who are you, exactly?" she said.

"Jennifer Hartcord." She turned her back to fix some tea. "I'm similar to what you care to call an undertaker, although I haven't seen a human corpse for decades." And for good reason.

Dove remains silent for a long, calculating moment, then says, "All right, Jennifer Hartcord, what are you doing in the middle of the desert, then?"