Kur spat another ice ball at Jasmine and Ellindris. It was the size of a horse and whizzed past Ellindris’ wing like a comet. Screaming, Jasmine clung with white knuckles on Ellindris’ feathered mane as the dragon twisted midair to avoid the ice and then plummeted in a nose dive like a hawk on its prey. The ice ball crashed into the side of the icy mountain below with a boom. The indentation it left was twice the size of the ice ball itself and splintering at the edges. The setting sun’s light refracted against the embedded ice ball in hues of oranges, yellows and reds, all of these colors emphasized by the semi-translucent blue tone of the icy mountains themselves.

Ellindris reopened her wings to full span, catching herself on an updraft just before she and Jasmine would have plunged full-force into the frozen river that wove between the icy mountains, the same river that Jasmine had traversed to get to the dragon’s land in the first place. Needless to say, it was unrecognizable to Jasmine at the moment, seeing as she was gripping Ellindris with everything she had, squeezing her every muscle flat against the purple dragon’s feathers and scales as the landscape zipped across her vision like a fast-forwarding movie.

Kur was relentless. He was driving the both of them into a corner and Jasmine had no way of knowing if Ellindris had a plan or not. She tried to calm her breathing but the adrenaline wouldn’t allow it; her ears were pounding, her blood was pumping and her fatigued muscles erupted in a second wind. She clamped her thighs tighter onto the base of Ellindris’ broad neck and dug her fingers deeper into the dragon’s scales, feeling unbearably hot despite the steam that each of her quickened breaths exuded.

“Why is he attacking us?” Jasmine screeched at Ellindris once she found her voice.

“That is not my husband,” Ellindris said, her voice somehow sounding fiery. It was as if this was how dragons should sound, as if she had toned down her vernacular for Jasmine’s sake up until this point but had no concentration to do so anymore.

Jasmine felt the words rumble deep within her, emanating with a primordial power that was enough to assure her that the both of them would survive no matter what else not-Kur threw at them. Calmer now but still rushing with adrenaline, Jasmine yelled over not-Kur’s ice attacks, “Then who is it?”

Ellindris dodged a spray of frigid air that splattered the river below in icicles and snow and then answered, “It is a wizard.”

“I thought dragons were immune to magic!”

“If you will recall,” Ellindris stated, cork-screwing so that Jasmine had to pin her head against the back of Ellindris’ neck so as not to become dizzy, “I told you it depends on the type of magic.”

Jasmine lifted her head against the force of Ellindris’ maneuvers to yell, “Well what type of magic is this, then? And how do we get him to stop?” The motion made her neck cramp but she ignored it. If there was a way out of this, a way to make Kur cease his onslaught, then Jasmine didn’t care if she got a stiff neck later for asking.

An icicle struck Ellindris’ wing. She roared, landing hard on the frozen river, her claws piercing through the sheet of ice covering it as if it were tissue paper. The water splashed high enough to drench Jasmine, who scrambled to regain her grip on Ellindris’ neck after sliding down a few inches. Ellindris sloshed through the half-frozen water in wide dragon strides, backing up until her rear was touching the icy mountain wall, and then she curled her tail into a question mark shape and crouched. Jasmine gulped as Ellindris’ breathing slowed and deepened. Kur was encroaching, hovering just above the river, his mighty wing-beats echoing throughout the gap in the icy mountain range, so prevalent that Jasmine could feel the sound pounding against her bones like a gigantic bass drum.

“Tighten your grip,” Ellindris commanded.

Jasmine feverishly did so.

“Do not let go.”

Jasmine nodded, terrified and voiceless as she scraped her chin against Ellindris’ scales.

Kur bellowed. He drew in breath, held it in his belly for a moment and then expectorated three more icicles towards Jasmine and Ellindris.

But Ellindris was quick. She reared onto her hind legs, slashed one of the icicles to bits before catching the second in her other claw and opening her mouth wide to swallow the third, which melted on contact with her snout.

That was when Jasmine noticed it. Ellindris was getting warmer, steadily as if she contained within her a great teapot filled with boiling water, a teapot almost ready to whistle. Jasmine couldn’t see Ellindris’ face from where she was at the base of the dragon’s neck, but if she could she would have seen the steam rising out of her nostrils and how she pulled back her reptilian lips to reveal her teeth, which were steadily being covered in purplish black mucus.

Kur staggered backwards midair with a few precise twitches of his wings. He, or whatever was inside him, knew that pose. Ellindris was going to breathe fire on him and she wasn’t about to hold back. He had angered her, angered the Dragon Queen.

Even though she was focused on clamping herself fast to Ellindris’ scales, Jasmine sensed the unease in Kur’s demeanor. She humored the thought that she and Ellindris might get out of this yet.

Sure enough, just as Jasmine imagined Ellindris about to blow, she did. The Dragon Queen inhaled sharp and long and then expelled a stream of fire at Kur, the scales all over her body bristling ever so slightly to show the searing red skin beneath them. Blasted with hot air, Jasmine winced and gritted her teeth, trying to soothe the burning sensation spreading suddenly across the side of her face that was pressed atop Ellindris’ scales. Her palms parched and then blistered so fast the pain barely registered in her mind, but she smelled and heard her flesh sizzle in every place her gray witch’s outfit didn’t serve as a barrier between her skin and Ellindris’ scales. The left side of her face was numb in a way that made Jasmine think it might never feel anything again.

Ellindris reached over to her wing, pulling out the icicle that was lodged in it with a grunt before she faced her husband, who was collapsed, a giant white and teal heap in the river, the water boiling and evaporating all around him. Crawling over cautiously, Ellindris faced him with half-folded wings and a snakelike flick of her tongue. She inquired, “Kurventhor?”

To which the white dragon moaned, shook his head and gazed up at Ellindris in confusion. He said, his voice sounding too meek to be that of a dragon’s despite its volume and resonance, “…Ellindris.”

Relief flattened Ellindris’ scales once more and Jasmine almost got her hand caught underneath one, but had the sense to pull it out before it came down completely. That movement, unfortunately, forced her to see the state of her palm.

“I am here,” Ellindris was saying to Kur. She moved her wing the wrong way and hissed, twitching it the other direction.

Kur saw the black blood oozing from the hole in Ellindris’ wing. “Your wing!” His jaw dropped to reveal his own set of grayish blue fangs, “Your beautiful wing!” Closing the distance between himself and Ellindris, he curled his neck around hers to get a better view of the injury, oblivious to the fact that Jasmine was studying her own trembling hands with awestruck, wide eyes.

Jasmine’s palms were blistering in brown and white puss, her skin taking on a leathery texture similar to Ellindris’ punctured wing. Her hands were swollen and starting to sting, but the most terrifying and surreal part was that Jasmine couldn’t feel anything in the places the burns looked the worst: the very centers of her palms and the tips of her blackened fingers. Her scream bubbled in her core before rippling out of her mouth, loud and shrill and horrified.

That got both dragons to fix their attention on her.

“Ellindris, your rider is burnt,” said Kur. Although his wording was blunt, there was genuine concern in his voice.

“I was unaware,” Ellindris responded, dipping her wing so that her husband could examine Jasmine, temporarily forgetting about her own injury.

Jasmine was in hysterics. The closer Kur’s snout got to her, the farther away she shrunk, curling into herself as she whimpered and cried, unable to feel anything on the left side of her face, the numbness exaggerated by the slick sensation of tears cascading down her right cheek. The questions bombarding her psyche were merciless and unyielding. Would she ever be able to feel her hands again? What if it didn’t heal right? How many scars would she acquire, and would they be permanent? Would her mother recognize her? Did her mother even know she was gone? Why had she left the safety of her own world so willingly, so thoughtlessly? Why was she such an idiot to take a ride atop a dragon? Would she be disfigured for life? Was she even disfigured at all? What about Prince Albert? Would he think differently of her? Why did she even care about what he thought in the first place?

She needed a mirror. She needed to assess the damage. Maybe there weren’t any burns on her face at all, Jasmine told herself, sucking in air as she tried in vain to get a steady inhale.

She heard Kur’s clear dragon voice, musty yet crisp through the emotional waves of her panic attack. “Be calm,” he was saying, “Breathe slowly.”

But Jasmine couldn’t breathe any slower. The more she tried the faster she ended up breathing, inhaling so sharply it pained her lungs. It didn’t help that she sounded asthmatic to her own ears, that her eyes felt like they were being pricked with pins and her stomach wanted to jump up her throat.

What brought her out of her fit was a blast of cold air from Kur’s nostrils. It was enough to make Jasmine shiver but not to freeze her over and it cooled the edges of her burns so that for a split-second they no longer ached or stung.

“Be calm,” Kur repeated in the tone people use to coax wild animals into trusting them. He instructed, “Exhale.”

Jasmine exhaled. Her chest loosened.

“Good,” Kur said, “Now, come here.” Holding out his scaled hand, he placed it in front of Jasmine, open-palmed and inviting.

Jasmine went there. Ellindris was kind enough to dip her wing and neck so Jasmine could get onto Kur’s hand without jumping. If not for her tremble-inducing anxiety, Jasmine might have had the mental capacity to be thankful for that. Once atop Kur’s hand, Jasmine’s knees buckled. She fell onto her haunches gracelessly, her elbows bent so her smoldered palms were facing up.

Kur lowered her to the riverbank, setting her atop an ice block jutting out from the side of one of the icy mountains. “Place your hands in the water,” he said.

Jasmine hesitated, but the decisive flick of Kur’s tongue and the fact that Ellindris had her eyes fixed on her persuaded Jasmine to do what Kur said. She took a breath and held it has she plunged her hands into the water. A shiver traveled up and down her spine, spreading until it reached the very tips of her extremities. Through chattering teeth, she said, “Ok-k-kay.”

Kur rumbled, the way that dragons do, and Ellindris nodded her head as if she understood what the noise he made had meant.

“Do not move,” Ellindris said, curling back her lips. She waited for Jasmine’s gulp and frantic nod before dipping her exposed teeth into the water, where the sticky dark purple mucus that secreted them dissolved, spiraling in murky lavender hues that encroached Jasmine’s exposed burns.

Jasmine watched the faded purple substance as it slipped across her hands, wonderment overriding the pain and the fact that if she were any colder her lips might turn pale. The purple liquid molded over her hands and became a vibrant glob of iridescent film that didn’t mix with the rest of the water, as if it were composed of oil. It felt disgusting and slimy on the back of her hands where no burns were present, but where it settled on her palms it felt cool and slippery, like gel or aloe. Unfortunately, she could only feel the sensation on the very edges of her hand, on the less severe of her burns. Nonetheless, those burns were soothed and softened and Jasmine let her eyelids fall halfway down in contentment.

But just as she was about to let out a sigh in order to release whatever tension in her body was leftover, a pain shot from the center of her palms right up her arm, as if lightning were arcing from her carpals to her scapulae. She would have screamed except her throat clenched and the only sound capable of escaping her vocal chords was a barely audible whine. Consumed by the fire in her veins, Jasmine wrenched her hands out of the water and fell back atop the ice block, sweating and gasping and arching her back, too much in pain to vocalize her agony. She was crippled by her anguish, her eyes pinched shut, so she couldn’t see that her hands were, in fact, healing.

Ellindris and Kur exchanged glances and then returned their gazes to Jasmine, who was twitching in an almost-catatonic fit.

“She cannot stand much more of this,” Kur pointed out. His whiskers wafted in a wavy, thoughtful pattern from his nose.

“If I cease the process now,” Ellindris said, “She will never fully heal.”

The two of them waited another minute, their eyes fixed on Jasmine as she spasmed, a smoky gray ash rolling back and forth along the clear sheet of ice. Then Ellindris stretched her neck to Jasmine and licked the gelatinous coating from her hands, slurping it before she swallowed and hissed in disgust. Jasmine remained tensed for a moment and then her energy fell out of her, exhaustion sweeping her into unconsciousness.

“We cannot leave her here,” Kur said, “She will freeze.”

Ellindris lifted Jasmine and placed her into her mouth. With Jasmine resting on her tongue, she closed off her throat by arching the back of her tongue and then shut her mouth, leaving her lips pulled back so air could seep in between her teeth. This is how dragons carry their young, before they are capable of flight.

Kur beat his mighty wings, lifting out of the river, and water fell from his wings in sheets and a misty spray. “We resume our journey,” he said and shot like an arrow towards Kingdom Albreton.

Ellindris followed after him. She soared slowly so as not to jostle Jasmine or agitate her injured wing, but yet remained no more than three wingspans from her husband, whom she hadn’t seen this lively in a great deal of time.