It peered over the root, staring, hoping to see the thing it was looking for. It had been looking for a long time, hoping to find the right one. Was it this one? Could it be? Possibly?

No. This wasn’t it. In a flash and a dash, it turned and ran, slicing neatly through the grass again. Back to searching.

*He’ll show up soon enough, Annabel, don’t worry,* Clarinet tried consoling Kipfel’s very worried bondmate.

“Where could he be? Did anyone see him slip away after the Shantel?” she demanded. She was remotely aware that she was slipping in and out of Hochdeutsch, but she didn’t care. She was far more worried about Kipfel as she paced back and forth in irritation across the Shantel bowl. He’d never left her side before, and the sudden empty feeling was driving her mad. She was worried. Where was he? Didn’t he care? They were bondmates, but more than that, they were friends.

Or so she liked to believe. Clarinet had tried to explain to her the stigma that accompanied black dragons, that they were cruel and evil, but Annabel knew better. They weren’t either of those things. They were just wounded, deeply, somewhere in the soul, and taking it out on the world to make themselves feel better. Sure they were selfish, but who wasn’t? If truth be told, both of them – Kipfel and Annabel – were these infamous and reclusive creatures, wanting nothing more than to be happy when everyone insisted on shooting them down.

For her, it was an easy thing to achieve. For him? Not so much. He never liked excessive company, and the Shantel, while it was certainly exciting from anyone’s point of view, was far too crowded to make Kipfel at home.

She continued to pace, rubbing the back of her head in irritation every time she was told that there was nothing she could do but wait. If he didn’t turn up by the end of the day, they’d start looking for him in the morning. Sometimes dragons need to be alone, right?

“But not Kipfel,” she persisted. “He’s never left my side, even when given the chance! We’re a pair, the two of us! Why can’t they understand that?” she found herself asking no one in particular.

“Annabel, why don’t you go check out the rest of the Refuge with Tren? I’m sure that will get your mind off things,” Sandrylene suggested.

Annabel whipped around and glared at her fiercely, savagely. That was the sort of suggestion that would get a woman killed at this moment. “I have more important things to be worrying about,” she replied. “Think if he was your bondmate. Wouldn’t you be worried?”

“I really don’t see why you’re getting so upset. He’ll come back when you’re ready.”

“You don’t know him. You’ve known the two of us for what? A few months? I’ve known him for longer. I’ve bonded him. I know how he is. You can only make assumptions.”

“I know you’re worried, but please, will you calm down?”

“I’m perfectly calm,” Annabel replied sharply. “If I weren’t, there’d be blood being shed already.”

Sandrylene sighed and threw her hands up in the air in annoyance. Annabel could figure out what she was thinking. Her whole body said it. Some people are simply impossible to deal with.

Maybe she was right, but there was something about sitting around with nothing to do to help that really got under her skin. She glared longingly at the forest. It was all she could do. She had no idea where to even begin to look, let alone what she would do were she to get lost.

The sun was setting. He should get back soon. Why wasn’t he moving, though?

The creature watched with detached interest as the black terran watched a trio of young Realm bishel as they played in the setting sunlight. Was this something important to him? Why were those dragons keeping his attention? Why wasn’t he going to join them? Bishel were, by nature, sociable, after all. Why didn’t he join them? Go visit? Play, rather than watch?

Of course there was the black stigma, that they’re antisocial reclusive creatures with nothing but violence on their minds, but that wasn’t true. The creature was sure of it, even if it wasn’t certain of itself.

Sufan were, after all, noncorporeal concepts given form. It was awkward being one, trying to get the point across but being unable to communicate in any way more than empathy. But empathy for this solitary black seemed to be pouring out in spades.

And then he rose, the black terran did, and he began stalking quietly through the path that other terran dragons had cut through the growth of the forest.

He was heading back. The creature followed.

Kipfel sighed. So real dragons were hard to come by, and most acted like those he had seen at the Shantel. None seemed to be anything like the strange dark red terran-arboreal, though. They were all cleanly made and showed very few signs of difficulty. Not all had bondmates like he did, and most didn’t seem to mind. Kipfel, for his part, was very glad for his bondmate. She had brought him to this world, and the two of them had protected one another. Camaraderie. There was something to be said for camaraderie. It usually ended with a falling-out for one thing. It was usually brought on by necessity for another.

Was their friendship real, or was it just camaraderie? Did it matter? Did she care? Was she worried about him? Why was he worried about what she cared? Why was he thinking so extensively about this?

He fought back a growl. Someone would hear him, and he wasn’t ready to be found quite yet. Nonetheless, it was irritating.

He wondered what he would do now that he was grown. He wasn’t too fond of going anywhere near where his fate-driven mother was, but he also was not too keen on going too far from Annabel. If she still wanted him, that was. Their task together had been accomplished, what if she didn’t want him around anymore? What if she turned her back on him like he had so often?

He realized that he wasn’t too upset with Annabel, but rather more upset with himself. He felt as if he had betrayed her by being so disagreeable, so contrary, so weak. Had he? Did she feel the same? Why was he asking so many questions? Why couldn’t he just think that this was the way things were and there was no way to change that at all? Why couldn’t he stop questioning everything?

He pawed at the ground and skipped a stone into a pile of leaves. But there was a second movement. His head snapped to the left to follow it, but it stilled almost instantaneously. What was watching him? Who was after him? He glared into the growing darkness, as if that should matter.

Darkness. That did matter. He realized for the first time all evening that he had no idea where he was, no clue where he was going, no hint of how to go back.

He startled at a noise and looked around, feeling the entirety of the woods collapse in around him. His heart thundered in his chest. He hated the darkness. Every inch of it. Sometimes it was comforting, but only when there was light mixed in with it. Something that could prove to him that he was not simply in an empty pit of nothing. He stared around, suddenly seeing every shadow as a monster ready to spring out and steal him away. Rend his flesh from his bonds. Devour him whole.

And the only thing he could think was that he would never at all make it back to apologize to Annabel.

There was the movement again. This time it seemed closer, louder, stronger. It rustled through dead leaves on the forest floor, and Kipfel did the most natural thing he could think of at that moment.

He bolted and ran.

Stupid dragon, the creature thought scathingly to itself. Why’d you have to run away? Come back. Face me. Don’t run. We both know how strong you are. Try showing it for once.

It ran along after the black dragon, tracing him as best as it could in the encroaching darkness. Even if it lost him, however, it could find him again. It had chosen him. It wanted him. And there was nothing he could do to decide otherwise.

It continued to channel empathic feelings towards the dragon. Face your fears. Stop running from them. Come on. You can do this.

And it felt vague satisfaction when the dragon stopped.

And then irritation kicked in as he stared running again, just in a different direction.

It was morning, and it still bothered Annabel to know that Kipfel wasn’t back. She had spent the entire last night in straights trying to think why he would just leave. And she was more worried because he hadn’t returned by dusk. And he hated the dark.

And then there came a shout. “Oi! Nabel!” someone, either Tren or Aki, cried. “I think you’ll want to see this one.”

Annabel walked out onto the deck of the Majestic, glaring into the sunlight of the morning. “What is it?” she asked, trying to sound personable.

“I found him,” Tren said cheerfully, pulling a small rowboat up along the starboard side of the ship, “asleep in the middle of the Shantel bowl. He’s got something else for nerves, he does, falling asleep in the middle of the woods.”

Annabel leaned over the deck as Tren secured the small rowboat and yanked on the waxy rope to pull it up to the deck with the pulleys. Kipfel was curled miserably in the middle and glaring up at her. She smiled down at him, and he seemed a little better, but not much.

“Kip. I was worried about you,” she said softly in Hochdeutsch.

*Yeah, so Tren tells me,* Kip replied in their native tongue. *I came back, but you weren’t there. Did you give up on me?*

“I’m sorry, Kip. I didn’t want to, but everyone else said you’d come back when you were ready.”

Kipfel looked down, ashamed. For what, she couldn’t tell, but she had learned to read his moods. *I came back hoping you still wanted me,* he said softly.

She laughed. It was reassuring for both of them. “Of course I do!” As Tren stopped the pulley and tied the sloop tight to the side of the ship, Annabel helped Kipfel hop over the railing and onto the deck. She knew he hated ships, but Sandrylene and Tren had promised only one more run with it was necessary.

And then they’d find a place they could call home.

Kipfel listened in the stuffiness of the lower cabins. There was something moving. Something not human moving around the floor. It wasn’t a rat. He had long-since killed all of those. It wasn’t a bug of some sort. He’d gotten those, too. What was it? Where was it?

He crept between the crates and barrels stacked in the area. No one came down here too often, which was what Kipfel used it as his make-shift lair. No one except this thing he was hearing.

There!

He pounced around the corner of a crate and his talons stuck in the wooden planking of the ship. Between them was a small, furry green creature. It blinked up at him with small, beady black eyes, and he glared down at him. It seemed to be daring him to strike it, simply by invading his territory. But for some reason he simply could not explain, he let it go, and he backed away from it. It seemed happier for that, and he gave it its space.

He watched the strange creature for a long time. Days, actually. And then, after a while of observation, he declared it safe and unobtrusive. And then, he caught it again.

*All right,* he demanded, *who are you?*

The creature simply blinked up at him again and Kipfel sighed. It was probably mute. It would have spoken to him otherwise, he was certain. *Do you have a name?* Kip persisted. He got another blank look. *Do you want a name?* he asked. More blank looks. Deaf, dumb, and stupid. Geez, he thought.

And then he got an idea. He wondered how he got the idea, because it wasn’t the sort of thing he’d normally suggest to himself under any circumstances. He sighed.

*Fine,* he said. *I’ll give you a name.* He paused. *In my native tongue.* He looked down at the thing, whatever it was, and nodded slightly. *Something that suits you.* He thought of how brave and bold the thing had been, and how simply its presence inspired him to be the same. *Löwenherzchen,* he decided was sufficient. Little lion’s heart.

And though at first the two were wary of one another, they grew to be comrades quickly. And for the first time in a long time, it seemed that Kipfel had made for certain not a camaraderie, but a friendship. And he was happy.

Well, as happy as he could be until they landed.