theworldunwinds | Deer and Dragon

Vincent's herd had only recently come into this forest, driven out of their previous one by deforestation, over-hunting by humans and host of other problems. The smaller village nearby promised less harassment and the forest was rich enough to support the herd.

He was a bit of an oddball among his people. A young buck...doe? Smelled like both, had both parts. Confused the stags. Fight or mate? He tried both options himself but neither would have him. Antlers too stubby to protect a doe and their potential offspring, likely infertile and therefore a waste of time to mate by a strong stag. And so, he was often left alone.

It was an unusually hot spring day so the herd made their way down to the river to drink and cool off. Vincent, being the klutz he was, tripped and fell in the mud. Those nearby laughed. He slunk off into the water to wash up, moving out of sight of the herd so as to avoid further humiliation. Washing the mud off his skin, he sat down on the grassy bank, hoofed legs drawn up so that he could rest his chin on his fuzzy knees.

Maybe he ought to run off and find another herd. Maybe of true deer. At least then none would laugh at him.

Scratching his ear, he sighed and got up, heading back to the herd. The forest was still too unfamiliar to stray too far for too long.

Too late though, they'd ditched him. Not a single one to be found...But they'd left in a panicked hurry according to the hoof prints in the mud and torn up grass. Which only meant one thing.

A predator was in the area.

His ears perked up, sniffing the air and on high alert now. Hunters? A bear? They'd not heard any wolves thus far...There was a scent now...but he couldn't place it. Was he just dumb or was the predator masking its scent? Maybe this forest had another kind, one not found in their old forest.

He could run. Always an option.

Alone...so alone.

Fear gripped Vincent, unable to move.

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It's a good thing Vincent stood still. The said predator didn't see him because he couldn't see that well as his vision decreased over the years, as the dragon is middle-age, of nearing 400 years, which is equivalent of being in his mid-thirties in human years. His hunting style of picking prey for his next meal is more random.

The predator turned out to be a dragon. He had seen the herd ran and scattered, so he flew overhead to chase after them. He wanted the biggest, strongest looking buck, eating as much as he could to stock up energy for his metabolism. Food has been scarce due to the humans over-hunting and poaching in many provinces of forests in different parts of the continent, which ire him greatly, meaning he has to maintain a careful balance of controlling the available population of prey divided amongst him and other predators too. The bears care for their young, the wolves are annoying with their howls and yips, and the wild cats never say anything other than fending for themselves. It's every creature for themselves.

Abel isn't one of those creatures that have a good relationship with the humans in the near-by village due to his reputation as being on top of the food chain and the only hard to kill predator that the humans fear and respected beside a pack of wolves and a bear, and communications with them is limited to trading gold and jewels for man-made goods such as fur, farm-grown livestock, books, and a reminder of the dragon's good threat that if they ire him, he would set them all on fire. He never did, as he deemed it not necessary to kill for sport, but only for survival, but the humans took his word for it, as long they knew their place and deforestion and poaching has decreased signficantly somewhat.

The buck that laughed at Vincent earlier that day by the river, the one who's shooting his mouth off about his plans to mate with the most does for the upcoming season? He's strongest one, the fastest sprinter of the herd. Today wasn't his lucky day.

The dragon killed him, snapped him by the neck easily using his fangs and claws. As it is the law of nature, the predator keeps what he kill for his food. No more, no less. The nearby wolves were eying his prize, but they kept their distance, knowing in a fight against a dragon they will loose. Out in the forest, death hover constantly over your shoulder, and they come in different forms. It's live or die by those stronger than you.

Abel slung his killed buck over his shoulder, and he went to the direction where his main lair is hidden deep in the woods. He wiped his mouths and hands, licking up the warm blood. Already he planned to chop up his kill into different parts for meat to eat and roast later than night.

Until he found Vincent who stood in his way. A scared little runt. The dragon could tell this is the reject of the herd, as he seems smaller than the rest of the herd.

"Hey." When Vincent didn't answer right away. "Out of my way pipsqueak."

He must have jumped his entire body length into the air when he heard someone speak. Turning, he saw...Blood. And Oh...Raul...the deer on Abel's shoulder.

Raul had been an asshat, but he'd protected the heard and, along with his brother, had brought them here. Now, he was gone, a meal for a dragon. The greatest predator to any deer.

Strength suddenly returned to his legs and Vincent's flee instinct switched into high gear. He bolted across the river, nearly jumping it in one bound, determined to put as much distance between himself and that creature as soon as possible.

He ran, he ran until his lungs would have no more and he collapsed in the leaf litter, coughing and gulping air as he rested a moment. Tears streamed down his face, a mixture of pain at the stitch in his side, fear, and mourning for a herdmate.

He lay staring up at the sky through the branches before forcing his hooves under him and walking. Had to keep moving. Had to get away... he found a trickle of a stream and he drank enough to wet his throat. But he dare not take more even in the heat lest he vomit it later. Fingers covered in mud again, he washed them off, then stopped. Had to hide his scent.

He went back up the bank, stumbling once and rolled in the leaves and dirt, covering his smell before crossing the brook and continuing on.

Raul was big...he'd last the dragon awhile. But for how long? No dragons in their old forest, nor even the nearby mountains. How often did they feed? Would the dragon chase the herd, or track him, a weakling on his own?

His ears perked at a distant rumble of thunder. At least a storm would wash away his flight. But he had to find shelter. He came across an old tree with a large hole in it. Plenty big enough for him and he climbed inside, curling up, and crying silently.

Alone.

Abel frowned with slight disgust when the deer sprinted away. He never likes weakness or cowardice, and being a dragon, he's practically the king of the woods, though there is no such hierarchy written in stone. Just predator and prey, the unspoken cycle of power and struggle between life and death.

Abel returned home to his den later in the evening and poor Raul was the dragon's dinner, made into roasted venison and soup. It was the most delicious meal he ever had that night. The storm made it all taste better, and the dragon slept soundly.

It was the next day after the storm cleared that in the morning when Abel returned to the same pasture to check on the herd's numbers, and in his error and judgment, that he realized he took one of the main protectors and alpha male of the herd. Now there's a few left, meaning more doe than alpha males in ratio and numbers. If the does aren't producing more of it's kind, that means they're out-hunted and out-numbered and if there's no more food for all, well...it spells trouble.

The dragon has no predator other than the humans themselves. Now the herd is having extra hard because the forest they moved into, had a dragon living here, and most likely they will travel and relocate into another forest...which is hopeless because, in this continent, the forest is the dragon's territory stretching from coast to coast, from sea to sea, from East and West.

After mentally swore that he can no longer hunt for venison, he has to move onto the moose, the caribou, and water fowls as other food sources for the upcoming winter. The dragon is not so far uncivilized as he had interactions with men before, and exchanged knowledge. It just that on the morality scale, the dragon's view is that of a hunter...with an intelligence that his food resource must be under control, his control.

As a remedy to even out the balance, Abel made a note to kill a minimal number of wolves, predators, and the scavenger birds, as their fur and feathers are valuables to the humans. By controlling the population, the prey are allowed to breed in peace to increase their numbers. Needless to say, it's not necessary for the dragon to interact with the herd at all, as the remaining stags has a lot of things to worry on their plate...like not getting killed by the dragon.

In the same night, to make up for it, Abel went around the area to quietly kill the predators that came his way at night, at least the ones nobody will ever miss. He makes no distinction, it's more random selection, as the dragon view himself as an instrument of Nature's death. A necessary instrument. Of course, his logic is that he needed the fur anyway to sell to the humans for the upcoming winter season. He patrolled the forest to check for traps and poachers. He found just traps for tonight and disarmed them.

On his shoulder, he killed about three wolves, which he intended to make pelts out of them. Taking a drink from the bank, it was when he saw the same deer from last night, drinking right across him. Must be fate, luck, or coincidence, but the forest is a small world.

"Hey. It's you again." And before Vincent has a chance to bolt. "Your herd planned to leave the forest again, to escape me, I suppose." And guess whose fault is that. "Not that it would them any good, since I ruled the entire forest and I control who lives and who dies."

In other words, nowhere to run or hide. Also, the sound of thunder can be heard. It's going to be another storm again two nights in a row.

Vincent had not been able to meet up with his herd. Wet and dirty, he'd endured the storm and stayed put. Waking up exceedingly uncomfortable in the hot weather and worn from yesterday's events, he made is way back to the brook to drink and then try to find his herd.

His heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice but he before he could run the dragon was still speaking.

How could he know that? How long had the dragon been spying on the herd? Had he been in their midst since arriving?

But if what he said was true, had they planned to leave him behind entirely? Why should he be surprised? He was more or less a liability after all...Perhaps...he'd even been the cause of Raul's untimely death...

If the herd was making a break for another sector of the forest, it was possible he could be of some use in stalling the dragon.

He knelt beside the brook, scooping water into his hands and drinking briefly before taking a few deep breaths and looking up at the dragon, staring death in the face.

"If you're going to kill me, I only ask you make it quick."

The dragon just watched the herd from afar and predicted they'll be on the move again, as they no longer hang around the pasture and move to another area in the forest.

When the deer stared at him in the eye, as bravely as he could, the dragon took pity on him...if dragons could feel pity. Vincent look like a mess. The humans he met from the villages would have run or pissed in their pants where they stood and ran thereafter. This deer understood death, and he surmised he knew the buck as a friend he killed the other night. Even if the deer try fighting, he's outmatched in brute strength.

The dragon isn't in the mood to kill more than necessary. "No. That won't be necessary. If I kill any more of you, then your numbers will dwindle. Being a dragon, I choose who live or who dies." Recklessly, but he won't admit to that.

This isn't easy for the both of them. "It's late. If you want to live, then I can bring you back to the herd, but it seems they left you behind."

With a sigh, "So, what it will be? Do you want to live?"

Even the dragon didn't want him.

Somehow, this hurt even more than his own kin shunning him.

"I'm not important to the herd." he said, getting to his feet. So, the dragon didn't want him, well then, maybe he could piss him off and make him.

"You're a dragon, not a god. You don't decide anything except who you want next on your dinner plate. Some smart lizard you are anyway, killing our leader. He may have been an ass but he did more than I could ever hope to accomplish for the herd. You should have gone for me instead as I'll never be able to help the herd repopulate!"

He looked down, picked up a rock, and chucked it at the dragon. It missed by several feet. He picked up another and again didn't come close to hitting him. Vincent reached for a third and slipped on the slippery rocks and landed face-first in the mud. Sitting up, he shook his head wiping away gunk from his mouth and eyes.

Vincent won't be able to defend the herd with those stubby antlers of his. The dragon never said he's a god, but his arrogance is coming from the fact that he's never been defeated in battle in his long life. The only other animal capable of killing him are other dragons.They are so spread far apart in the world, that two dragons fighting for dominance is a very rare event that perhaps happened once in a century. Humans come second in line as potential dragon slayers with their intelligence and weapons and fighting in numbers as attributes of their strength.

Abel faced packs of wolves with their claws and jaws, and humans with their torches and blades. But none of them compared to his true enemy, his twin brother, Cain, a dragon with scales of copper, gold, and autumn fallen leaves hidden somewhere in the secrets of the world, bidding his time after Abel gravely injured him. Abel shredded his brother's wings until he can no longer fly. The event happened fifty years ago in their fight for their own right to live and supremacy of existence, and getting the right to mate with the females...whom Cain killed most out of spite against his brother, and thus so, there is hardly any dragons left in the world.

The dragon coolly watched the deer trying to fight curious to know what the deer can do. Each attempt at throwing rocks is a miss. He didn't laugh, but inwardly he was amused. Okay, he decided not to be a coward this time. Can a deer kill him with a mere rock? Abel is testing to see if there more determination in him to live. So he's useless to the herd as both protector and birther. What's the point for the deer to live other than to wait for the obvious? Either be a burden to the herd and keep up with them during migration or be food. Maybe the deer so badly wanted to die as there is no other options left...

The dragon waited as Vincent is getting up. "Get up. And try to throw a rock properly this time." Came the taunt, though the dragon is testing him. Maybe on a whim, if Vincent wanted to keep on fighting him, he'll keep him alive as a pet for sport or pleasure since the herd abandoned him.

Go on. Show me what you can do. Can you fight? Do you want revenge for your friend? Do you badly wanted to die? And then another thought crept in the dragons' mind. Or maybe something else? Because despite all of that mud, the dragon find Vincent's willpower and determination to fight him...very interesting.

Meanwhile, storm clouds gathered, and a rush of downpour of heavy rain began to fall.

Edited Date: 2017-06-13 03:54 pm (UTC)

The taunt has Vincent getting to his feet, slipping once as the downpour made a puddle of mud around his hooves. He finally got up, glaring daggers at the dragon.

Screw the rock, he rushed the dragon instead with a cry, ready to kick, bite, scratch, punch, tear anything and everything he could on the dragon. Maybe if he got lucky he could punch a few holes in those wings of his.

His sharp little hooves flailed out, easily able to draw blood on a wolf or bear, but against the hide of a dragon, hard to say, but his aim was far better than with the rocks and every time he made contact, he was that more determined to leave the dragon grounded.

Now that was...slightly better. Does the deer have a chance to kill him? Not by a long shot. The dragon wouldn't call this a fair fight though since his brute strength far out-weight the deer's. The dragon dig his heels into the rain-soft ground and took the hit of his tackle. Whatever the hooves hit, oh they hurt, but just a cut and a scratch. His hide proved tough indeed, but the wings, they are out of Vincent's reach, and it takes real sharp claws to tear into the membrane of his wings.

Not a bad tackle though. The dragon nearly toppled over his heels, loosing his balance. But he has to do better than that.

"Stubborn mule." Abel managed to say.

But he is stronger, and as the dragon stood his ground, he waited until he raised his fist and charged a punch straight forward into the deer's belly, if the punch connects, in an attempt to subdue him. Hopefully, the punch will teach the dear a lesson to learn his place. The dragon has no intention to kill him, so it's not a killing blow, no. Just a punch to stun him and knock him unconscious to take him back to his cave and keep him for the night during the storm, and return him to the herd tomorrow morning.

Edited Date: 2017-06-13 04:57 pm (UTC)

Fueled by the insult Vincent cried out again and tried to land another hit only to have the wind knocked out of him by a blow to the stomach.

He coughed and collapsed into the mud, curling up in pain. He tried to snap out of it but his vision was growing dark. Despite his fear that now he was alive and in the dragon's talons his death would be slow, he couldn't pull himself out of it. The last thing he saw was the rain and the dragon's face before he blacked out.

Mud and rain pooled around his still form, his unconscious mind taking him far away from this place, back to his herd and before they cared about whether he'd be able to carry on the legacy one way or another. His father, the leader of the herd, all powerful and yet never looked down on him or made him feel less because of who he was. His mother, pure as fallen snow, and gentle as a summer wind. Shot by hunters three winters back. Father's hulking form laying in a pool of his own blood, mother tucked under his arm as he'd tried to save her.

After that it seemed Vincent was cursed, death followed the herd from then on until Raul took over and had them migrate to this forest. It seemed to be as close to paradise as any deer could hope for. They didn't see a single predator until the spring and not one fawn was killed. Raul was praised and of course every doe wanted more like him in their line. As son of the previous leader he'd tried to fight him for that right, only to be defeated and then called out for his...abnormality. No deer nor buck would have him after that, and since then Vincent had been on the fringes of the herd, always pushed out.

Life and death is the way of things in the forests. To hunt or be hunted. That's the way things are. Paradise don't exist, but anyone is free to believe they are safe for as long as they can until cold reality hits like a ton of bricks.

For now, Abel stood over his defeated opponent. Why did the deer badly wanted to die? It would be easier to kill him and eat him, isn't? For a moment, there's really no feeling in what he did or why did it. He just stood there and let the rain pouring down hard on the both of them. His only rationale is that he's tired of killing and isn't in the mood to kill more than necessary. And there's no reason to kill him. Not even for sport. Many years ago, he had a monk friend who visited him and gave him a lecture. It's a long driven conversation about him believing Abel has a thing called a soul, and that lecture had the dragon thinking for a very long time. Before that, the monk educated him on the nature of good vs. evil, which made Abel think about his own brother and himself, in their place in the world as dragons.

And anyway, isn't there a code that if a dominant alpha male kills another alpha male, then the victor takes the spoils and care for what the previous male owns? Or in this case, whatever Raul owns, it's the dragons now. Though technically, he doesn't own the herd while letting the remaining stags do what they need to do, but rather control a bit of this and that as a distant external fact almost the same way as humans control breeding their own and caring for their livestock.

Perhaps it was guilt. The dragon figured deers are govern by the happiness of the collective herd. And then there is fear, fear of being hunted. These two emotions that seems...remote to the dragon, as the dragon is a solitary creature, who lives alone. Either way, Abel's only remaining last rationale is pity for him and thought, "He's separated from the herd and I'm more interested in bringing him back." And that was that.

Abel scrubbed off the mud from his face by the stream. He hauled up Vincent's comatose body in his arms. With the heavy rains pouring, Abel couldn't fly, so he walked through the woods to his den, which is a cave. He laid the deer in a pile of warm, dry fur, and then started up a bonfire, which is a prepared stack of logs closeby to keep the large chamber within the main room, which is his bedroom warm as the night chill of the storm creeps into the cave fast and Abel stayed awake to keep the bonfire lit.

Vincent was cold out of it as Abel carried him back to his cave. It was some hours before the deer came to. Warmth greeted his chilled body and his eyes groggily opened, sitting up quickly with a noise of horrid surprise when he found he was in a bed of pelts. None deer thankfully that he could see but it was still unsettling.

He was cold and damp, a chill creeping up his spine. He rubbed his arms and gazed around as his focus came back.

"Where..."

The dragon. He was standing and tending to the fire. Fire wasn't for deer, despite its warmth, it stirred unpleasant ancient memories of death. The fear of wildfire-natural or manmade-was always worse than any predator, for it could catch you like no other. You could not fight it, only flee it, and if you stopped you were dead.

But for the moment it seemed the dragon had it under control. An ability that the creature shared with humans, though the latter were far more careless.

"Why did you bring me here?" he asked, getting to his feet and approaching the dragon. No sense trying to avoid him. The place reeked of dragon so this was obviously his lair. Either he was going to eat him or he wasn't.

Rubbing his arms he came a bit closer, the fire actually felt good, but he didn't get too close. "Why not leave me out in the storm? Be doing the herd a favor and avoid inconveniencing you. Win-win." he pointed out.

Once the dragon got the fire under steady control, it's a matter of lighting it up and feeding new wood every few hours to fuel the warmth. At least for now, he can afford some sleep.

He sat on his own bed of furs, leaned on the cave wall, tailed curled around, and was about to drift off to sleep when the deer came to and asked him the question. "Oh. You're awake." With a shrugged, "I was bored." Came the honest reply. "And no, you're not an inconvenience."

"What's the point? Do you have any desire to return back to your herd?"

Vincent's ears flicked back when the dragon spoke, the occasional thrill of fear at being so close to a predator still within.

Bored? What did that even mean? Predators got bored?...Well, if they caught big prey he supposed it would leave them time to laze around on a full stomach. Spekaing of, he dare not look around, fearing he might spot a familiar tail or antler that belonged to Raul.

His question caught him off guard.

Did he want to return to the herd? He'd grown up with them all, sure, but...he no longer really had a place...

"I...don't know." he answered truthfully, stepping closer to the fire. Why was he so cold?

Bored. For the dragon, it's an unproductive life of hunting, eating, sleeping, controlling the creatures throughout the forests with his presence and just waiting for things to happen. It's a long life. One couldn't hope for more than this.

There's no trace of Raul since the dragon disposed of it neatly, keeping his home clean. He doesn't make it a habit to keep the bones and pallets of his meals.

Still, the dragon sees the lack of conviction. Well, the deer is not attacking him out of anger anymore. Probably ran out of will and energy, and doesn't care to put up a fight.

He predicted that the deer would be more grateful being alive or feeling enthusiastic to returned back to his herd. Nope, the dragon sensed the feeling is not entirely all that there. And deers are a happy cheerful lot for their family. Usually.

"Why not? Weren't they your family?"

"Kind of." he shrugged weakly. "I mean, I've known them since I was a fawn but I have no blood relatives." His little sister had been taken by wolves at a young age many years ago, and his parents were dead and had no more children after her. His brothers ahead of him separated from the herd some time ago, making their own way in the world, and he had no idea where they were or how they were doing...or even if they were alive.

He rubbed his hands together and warmed them on the fire. His fur was still chilled and damp with mud and his head was starting to hurt. The stress of the last couple days and exhaustion were creeping up on him.

"You'd...really return me to them?" he asked quietly.

Oh. Nobody then. Not much of a family. "If you want to. I swear I would tomorrow morning."

Though what if the deer didn't want to? What would Abel do? Keep him as a pet or even a denmate perhaps? Abel didn't have one for a long time. There was a horse of a mare that one time, a she-wolf, a widowed fox vixen whose mate was killed by hunters, and a few humans but the humans are fragile and couldn't stand the harshness of the wilderness, and they often left back to their comfortable home in the village. He had a handful. Most of his previous mates passed away at this point as the dragon outlived them all.

"If you stay here longer with me, your herd will pick up my scent and then they probably won't accept you back." He said, a possibility.

Vincent didn't know what to do.

If he returned to the herd, everything would be as it was, and he'd either grow old and die alone with no mate and no true family, or get taken by a predator. If he went out on his own, he'd die. Lone deer, especially ones as weak as he, did not last.

Death around every corner.

Stay here longer? What did that imply?

He rubbed a temple, coughing a couple times. "I...I'm not sure." he said weakly, sinking to his knees as a coughing fit started and chills wracked his body. He'd been out in the rain and mud too long.

"I don't...feel so good." he said, wheezing a bit as the cough ceased for the time being.

In other words, nowhere to go.

Forget about humans, they hunt whatever they could and take for themselves. They build their kingdoms and their technologies to claim sovereignty over whatever they can think of. It's a cruel world and it's the world govern by humans, not dragons, not unicorns, not even the creatures of the forest. Man is slowly advancing his cities and his people to have dominion over the world they live in, not shared side by side.

At this point, watching the deer falling ill, Abel realized the deer have gotten ill from the storm, and won't be strong enough to make it back to his herd.

Abel made up his mind as he recalled his friend, the old monk's lectures where they exchange knowledge of religion to philosophy the monk garnered from his travels across continents that the dragon didn't have the chance to visit. The dragon hasn't seen him in years though, and Abel came to his conclusions that the old man passed away just like the rest. That particular lesson is, "You reap what you sow." He has taken a life, and now he must give back in return.

"Were you upset that I killed your friend of a buck? I have to eat because I must. I'm a carnivore." With a heavy sigh. "Well, in that case..." Abel picked up a few of the extra furs to cover up the deer for warmth. "You can stay here with me, even if it's just for a little while."

The previous cruelty Abel expressed toward the deer earlier has slowly eroded. That was his mask of ire. Actually, Abel learned to be less cruel over the years, as the concerned monk told him the state of his soul, and Abel believed the monk. That he too have a soul and held onto the belief that he is more civilized than men.

Vincent wasn't sure what to feel anymore. Fear, anger, mourning, all turned upside down, and now through a fog of illness, he was even more uncertain.

The thick fur he had to admit felt good, but he was sick and would need looking after. Would the dragon keep his word? Or let him die and then eat him? If he stayed, the dragon's scent would rub off on him and he might be shunned even more so should he return...Maybe even rejected outright and blamed for Raul's death.

He didn't know what to do, and for the time being, couldn't comprehend much. More coughing and he lay down where he'd plopped, tucking his legs up as he passed out into an uneasy feverish sleep.

The dragon observed the deer collapsed where's he's at. At this point, no conversation is necessary or needed. He allowed Vincent to rest on his pile of furs as the poor deer must be exhausted from the events, having his emotions ran high and enduring much from the unstable stormy weather.

The next morning, the storm ended. The dragon woke up to find his new friend still with him, dozing in his feverish sleep. His body is running hot. To keep his body cool to reduce the fever, Abel used a fresh cloth soaked in the cool rainwater that was gathered in a mineral bin pool from the depths of his cave to placed it on Vincent's forehead. Eventually, the dragon felt bored and thought Vincent will much better if he's cleaner, so he washed up the rest of the dried mud that caked around his face, shoulders, and neck, so Vincent can sleep better.

Before high noon, the dragon went out to hunt to eat, leaving Vincent alone to rest. By the time the dragon came back in the evening, he came back having found a collection of medicinal herbs from the forest. The dragon went to his kitchen to ground the herbs, crushed them, cut them up, mixed it up, and boil it into a drink. Once he finished concocting the brew and wait for the elixir to cool down, he poured it into a goblet and waited for Vincent to wake up.

Vincent slept uneasily, likely thanks to the scent of predator all around him but also due his illness.

In between his unconscious moments, he felt himself be moved, coolness on his face and then getting washed, which even in his current state felt good after the damp and the mud.

He finally hauled himself out of sleep for a little while, though still ran a fever and was both hot and cold at the same time.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked hoarsely not refusing the goblet of medicine that was given to him. If it was poison, so be it. If it was a cure, why? Tasted awful but he'd had worse.

Since he's accepting the medicinal brew, the dragon kneeled to tip the goblet better to his lips. The brew is bitter so the dragon put honey in it to sweeten it. The taste is awful, but the medicine will work. Give it a day or two depending on how fast his body wanted to recover.

The dragon thought about it when he was out. "I thought about it and changed my mind." He answered. "If you have nowhere to go, you can stay with me and be my denmate."

Abel hoped he made the right choice. Deers don't live long and they're not preferable mates for a dragon and were considered fragile in terms of lifespan. He gave it some thought because he was lonely and he felt guilty for robbing his herdmate, but he's not sure if his offer would make things better or it's a good solution in the long run, but it's an offer nonetheless.

Vincent drank the medicine and then lay back, the offer stunning him.

Live with a predator?

Was it better than living alone? If the dragon decided to kill him, he suspected it'd be quick and clean. Wolves and bears were messy and sometimes made their prey suffer for the fun of it or to avoid further confrontation.

He couldn't go back. It was better he didn't. He'd be less of a burden on the herd if they just believed he was dead.

Still too feverish to decide he said, "...I'll think about." before dropping off to sleep once more.

Two days passed, his fever finally breaking early morning, allowing him to sleep in relative peace until the afternoon when he rose at long last, gazing around, getting his bearings.

"As you wish." The dragon said, and didn't enforce anything else.

For the next two days passed, there isn't much of a change or a difference in the dragon's life. He flies, he hunted, he spend his days flying around the woods. Pretty mundane and dull life for a dragon, for one who lived so long.

The only difference is his spontaneous decision in taking in a deer for a denmate. Deers are just as fragile as humans, but hopefully, his new mate don't make much fuss as the humans do and they're less complexed and complicated, and mates mean taking on a friend, a companion, and a family member, and the dragon admitted inwardly he has been lonely as of late.

He returned later in the evening, with Vincent awaken, armed with what he thinks is "deer food", and assembled them in a wooden bowl in his kitchen. "Here." He said, offering. "I don't know what deers eat, but I found berries, mushrooms, fresh grass, and those leaves are herbs."