They followed a slow bend through the woods that morning, the light filtering in through maple leaves turned amber by the season. Ashwing padded ahead with a proud bounce in her step, wings slightly flared like she believed she could fly if only she tried hard enough.
Calypsius watched her, arms crossed loosely as he walked. "She's growing," he said to Ellara, who walked beside him with her bow slung across her back. "I swear she's already heavier."
"She's eating like a spoiled noble child," Ellara said, arching a brow. "Wouldn't be surprised if she outgrew your pack in another week."
He smirked. "She already has. She kicked my jerky pouch into the stream yesterday."
"You deserved it," Ellara said, pretending not to smile. "That thing smelled like regret."
The path opened into a wide clearing surrounded by tall pine trees, the air fresh and quiet—too quiet. Calypsius slowed instinctively. Ashwing paused too, head tilting. Her wings tucked tightly against her body as she let out a soft, uneasy trill.
Ellara immediately drew a dagger from her belt. "Something's wrong."
They didn't have to wait long.
A figure stepped out from behind a tree—a large man in boiled leather, sword drawn but held loosely at his side. Two more emerged behind him, one with a short spear, the other with a rusted crossbow.
"Morning," the first said, his voice rough and casual. "Didn't mean to startle you."
Calypsius didn't reply.
The man's gaze dropped to Ashwing, who had frozen by Calypsius's feet. She let out a quiet hiss, her body crouched low, but not with fear—instinct.
The leader whistled. "Well now, what do we have here?"
"A companion," Calypsius said evenly.
"Looks more like a prize," another man said, stepping closer. "That's a hatchling, isn't it? Rare find."
Calypsius stepped in front of Ashwing, who backed up against his legs. "Keep walking," he said.
The crossbowman snorted. "We could get a king's ransom for that thing in Erelos. Mages pay through the teeth for dragonblood."
Ellara shifted beside him, her voice flat. "Try and touch her. See how far your arm gets."
The leader sighed, tilting his head. "Don't make this difficult. Hand over the beast, and maybe we don't leave you bleeding in the dirt."
Calypsius looked at Ellara. She gave a nearly imperceptible nod—ready.
Then he looked at Ashwing.
Her eyes were locked on the bandits. Her scales bristled, the faintest glow rising along the lines of her back. But she was small. Vulnerable. And if he failed her now…
He stepped forward. "You're not touching her."
The leader's smile faded. "Your funeral."
The crossbow fired.
Calypsius twisted, grabbing Valenyr from its sheath. The blade flared to life in a burst of gold just as the bolt scraped past his shoulder.
Ellara moved faster. She threw her dagger into the spear-wielder's leg before diving behind a fallen log for cover. The man collapsed with a cry.
Calypsius closed the distance between himself and the leader in two strides. Their blades met with a ringing clash, and the man staggered back from the sheer force of the impact. He hadn't expected Valenyr—no one ever did.
Ashwing scurried to the edge of the clearing, wings flaring protectively as she crouched low, watching with wide eyes. But she didn't run.
The fight didn't last long.
Ellara darted in and out of cover, her second blade cutting the crossbowman down with a single, efficient slice. Calypsius struck with brutal grace, parrying the leader's strikes before disarming him with a twist of his wrist.
The bandit backed away, blood dripping from a shallow gash across his cheek. "Wait—look, we didn't mean—"
Calypsius pressed Valenyr to his throat. The blade's glow reflected in the man's eyes.
"She's not a thing," Calypsius said, voice low and deadly. "She's family."
The man swallowed hard. "Okay. Okay—just let me go—"
Calypsius hesitated—then struck the hilt against the man's temple. The bandit collapsed unconscious in the dirt.
Silence fell over the clearing. The only sound was Ashwing's ragged breathing as she crept cautiously back toward them.
Ellara sheathed her blade, breathing hard but calm. "We should move."
Calypsius nodded. He knelt down as Ashwing reached him, checking her for injuries.
"Are you hurt?" he asked gently.
She nuzzled into his chest, trembling slightly. His heart ached.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've sensed them sooner."
Ashwing chirped once—quiet, forgiving.
He stood, cradling her close. Her warmth grounded him.
Ellara glanced down at the unconscious leader. "Think there'll be more?"
"Maybe," Calypsius said. "But I don't care."
They left the clearing behind, the morning sun casting long shadows through the trees.
For the rest of the day, Ashwing didn't leave Calypsius's arms. She slept nestled against his chest, one wing draped over his heart. Valenyr remained sheathed, its warmth a silent vow.
They made camp near a stone ridge that night, well off the trail and hidden beneath a curtain of hanging moss. Ellara kept watch while Calypsius sat by the fire, Ashwing curled tightly in his lap.
He didn't speak. Just listened to the sound of her breathing, the crackle of the flames, and the wind whispering through the pines.
He had nearly lost her today.
And the thought of it still made something twist inside him.
He looked down at her, stroking her scaled head gently. "They'll try again," he murmured. "But next time, I'll be ready."
Ashwing stirred in her sleep, letting out a soft, warm trill—as if she believed him.
And he knew then, without question, that no matter what lay ahead, he would protect her.