Written: 7/9/2024
Word Count: 1,429

"Tell me about yourself," I demanded, shoving little Lizyk's info paper out of her line of sight. This one, I would hang on to.

Resinee stood with her hands splayed against her stomach. I didn't think she was pregnant, but that's exactly how she stood.

Today's dress was a soft green, checkered with white. The combination gave it a blurred effect that also softened her sharp beauty into something more adult, something more free-flowing than before. Even her white hair was more askew today, vaunting off her forehead in uncontained waves. It was rather humid, but maybe she'd just stopped pretending she was perfect in front of me.

"What?" she asked, her brows furrowing a ledge above her eyes. "What did you find?"

"My aunt's funeral is tomorrow," I said, shifting against the ground. My ass hurt. Oh, it hurt. I couldn't even feel it as I wobbled on my one good leg. My side twisted sharply, my broken hand banging against the chair. Spots of black and purple and red overwhelmed my vision for a moment, so I had to stop and let them abate before trying again.

"Yeah..."

I blinked, focusing in Resinee's direction. Still couldn't see for yewing shit. "I want to understand how I ended up in this position. I'm tired of pretending I don't need to know. And don't go harping on about morality and elfdom and whatnot. Talk to me the way you would an elvant. And explain."

Resinee considered my words. I could see the mental acrobatics hidden behind her forehead as she collected the slobbery bowl. She retreated the few steps from the welcome room to the kitchen, her sandals tapping sharp little clicks against the hardwoods.

"That's a bit vague," she said over her shoulder, placing a pitcher beneath the faucet and turning the dial with her other hand. Immediately, water spilled from the silvery knob, rust stains coating the thing in a bluish film. "Where would you like to start?"

I stood, one hand on the back of the chair that had acted as my backrest all day. With no hesitation, I asked, "Why am I here?"

Resinee didn't answer at first. With her back turned, I could no longer see the mental gymnastics taking place in her mind, but I could practically hear all the wheels turning.

"Dragons use this spot as a fly zone," she said at last, the words clipped. "Dragons fight, they bleed. Many of their blood is toxic. It burns...When dragons fight, and they bleed, they don't leave. They find the closest den and claim it as their own. Each shake, each tremble, it—makes things very hard for the miners."

When Resinee stopped talking, I clicked my tongue. "Keep going."

She sighed, the drooping of her shoulders incredibly pronounced. Turning off the tap, she began to ladle water out of the pitcher, filling the empty bowl with both soap and a coating of liquid. Then, she turned around, leaning back against the counter. "You're supposed to keep your leg elevated."

"Why is this a fly zone?" I fired back, not moving my busted leg a blazing inch. Already, I could feel those uncomfortable tingles in the damaged limb, the kind of fire that started as a soft, pillowy pin-cushion. Soon, the needles would overtake the fabric, effectively poking enough holes in it to last forever.

"The Mines are on the edge of East and West," she said, holding up a finger before I could interrupt her. "For dragons, this is the line. Disastraveritous lies dormant during the summer months. That makes it the best environment for laying eggs."

"Eggs?"

Resinee sighed, spinning back to the sink. She began scrubbing the bowl, each sud slopping around within its confines. Her pace was steady, gentle. She didn't let a single drop of liquid escape as she scrubbed it with a spongy cloth. "To the west, the environment is...harsh. Much harsher than here. Dragons roam freely, chasing all the magical creatures that live there. Dragon hunters chase the dragons, while dragons chase the dragon hunters. Bigger dragons hunt smaller dragons. It's all a—dangerous mess. It's no place to lay eggs."

"So they lay them in the east?" I clarified. "Here?"

"Along the inner edge of Disastraveritous, yes." Resinee nodded along. "The thing that divides the folk from East and West is the thing that the dragons instinctually see as their haven. This is their breeding ground."

"And they just leave each others' eggs alone once they lay them?" I asked, dubiously.

"Yeah, for the most part," Resinee shrugged it off. "It's ingrained in them to travel west once they hatch after about a year or two. They're mostly solitary creatures when they're young. It's only as they become mature and...less wild, that they congregate into bands. Gangs. And once they reach maturity, they become a bigger prize for the hunters. The older a boon is once it's taken off a corpse, the higher the value. Dragons still have so much magic in them, even after they die. They can be used for anything. That's why there are so many hunters."

I took all of two seconds to digest that information. "So what does this have to do with me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Resinee's voice took on an edge, not so much exasperation as impatience. "We need a vet here to tend to their needs and guide them further west."

"Yeah, that still doesn't add up for me." I shot her venom straight back at her. Everything this elva said pissed me off to no end. Was it her tone of voice? Was it the aftermath of being beaten up by one of her three muscle-elves? "Why does it have to be me? My aunt? Why not you? Why can't you do it?"

"You think we want to depend on High Elves, of all folk, to help us?" Resinee scoffed. Her sweet voice tried to soothe her words, but nobody could mistake the shaking of her throat. "If I could do it, I would. But I can't."

"Why not?" I challenged.

The baby dragon trotted back inside, smelling distinctly of sweat. Now that it had its dinner and had gone frolicking one last time, it headed right for that dark little cupboard. I didn't know what it was nesting in, but I was glad the thing didn't want to sleep with me. It really was self-sufficient.

Used to being alone, huh?

As it passed the kitchen, it didn't sniff at Resinee. Didn't even look her way. When it passed by me, it made sure to nearly knock me down and break my other ankle. But it acted as if Resinee was invisible.

"Because," she said, gritting her teeth into a smile befitting an elvaniac more than a dainty elva, "our magic and theirs repulses one another. We can't touch them, and they can't touch us."

I recounted every shocking thing Resinee had just spouted at me.

Dark Elves and dragons repulsed each other's magic. When dragons fly east to lay their eggs, they get caught up in the Haspa Mines, either to soothe their injuries or to temporarily rest before their journey back west. But because Dark Elves couldn't touch the beasts, they had no choice but to rely on a different kind of folk to help them.

Then...

"Why do you stay here?" I asked, shifting my good foot. The chair slid a little behind me, so I braced myself to fall. It resettled, but my strong ankle had to twist with it, bearing even more weight than just mine. Great. Now I was going to have two broken ankles.

Resinee braced her hands on the edge of the sink. Her head sank into her shoulders. A bracing moment. She inhaled so loudly that I forgot my busted limb was gradually tingling from a fuzzy discomfort to a needle-toothed forest fire.

She raised her head, the window mere inches away from her nose. I couldn't see her expression, but I could see the knot of tension appear between her shoulder blades. A startling, uncomfortable moment of clarity reminded me that Resinee had been carrying that knot of tension. Her shoulders had been stuck like that all day, even the day before. I couldn't recall from before that. Had she been holding her spine that way since the day we'd met?

"My parents are buried down there," Resinee said. "In the mines. They—it happened almost ten years ago. The shafts aren't stable enough for us to bring in equipment for a body retrieval. They—I—how can I leave?"