"Our search efforts have turned up nothing, my liege. The weather is making it difficult to track scents."

Megatron curled his lip in a soft snarl. "I don't want your excuses, Dreadwing." He growled, then turned his head away as he dove back into his thoughts. "I was a fool to think Knockout and Breakdown could handle such a simple task. Now we are without a medic!"

"Permission to make a suggestion?" Dreadwing inquired, bowing his head.

A puff of smoke burst from Megatron's nostrils as he faced Dreadwing. "Granted." He rumbled, his tail impatiently flicking against the ground beneath him.

"We may be without a medic, but so are the Autobots. That makes them vulnerable." Dreadwing explained. "I believe that we should shift our focus to finding the Autobot den-site instead of trying to locate the human-place, as it would make better use of our time and resources."

Megatron pondered over Dreadwing's words. They held some truth. He had always strived to effectively use what time and resources he had in his possession, but sometimes that meant abandoning certain campaigns in favor of others. However, he was not willing to abandon his quest to find and destroy the human-place. It would simply be pushed to side until he could return to it.

Ratchet and his pesky human companion were yet another issue that would need to be addressed later on, though he felt that things would fall into place on their own if given the time.

"I admire your sense of strategy. At least you are competent, unlike that fool Starscream..." Megatron muttered as he pushed himself to his paws. "When the weather clears, take your twin and do a sweep of the skies. Have the Vehicons search the territory beneath you. I have other matters that I must attend to."

Dreadwing respectfully dipped his head as the warlord passed. "It shall be done, my liege."

•
•
•

Ratchet held his massive body mere inches above the ground, poised like a venomous snake preparing to strike. Several yards ahead of him, a group of elk grazed on patches of brown grass. Elk were a rare sighting, especially during this time of year, which meant this was an opportunity he simply could not pass up. One elk alone could feed both himself and Cliffjumper enough to stave off their hunger for a little while longer.

The dwindling ground cover wouldn't hide his approach for long, so he needed to be quick if he wished to secure a meal. He scanned the group, trying to pick out the perfect target. A bull elk was tempting as it would be a larger meal, but its antlers made it dangerous. Ratchet couldn't afford to take unnecessary risks, so he settled on a cow elk instead.

When the time was right, Ratchet propelled himself forward, eyes locked on his target. The elk fled as a group, weaving through the trees and releasing their alarm cries for the entire forest to hear.

Ratchet's first few leaps were painless and filled with energy, though the lingering ache in his previously injured leg was beginning to creep back into his joint. Regardless of that, he pushed himself harder.

He closed the gap fairly quickly, his target nearly within reach. His throat burned with each lungful of air and white clouds of hot breath puffed from his nostrils.

The herd darted to the left and went down an embankment. Ratchet dug his claws into the ground to allow himself to turn quickly, a hiss of discomfort escaping through his clenched teeth as his leg throbbed in protest.

Upon reaching the edge of the embankment, Ratchet could see the herd splashing through a stream of flowing water that hadn't yet frozen over. His target had moved to the rear of the herd, pushed back by the others in their panic. He leapt down to the shore, his paws slamming against the sand, and took two strides before he sprung for the cow elk.

His claws caught the elk by the hindquarters just as it reached the middle of the stream and he brought it down with his weight. Icy cold water splashed up to his underbelly as he moved to sink his jaws into the elk's throat, finally ending the hunt.

Ratchet closed his eyes and shuddered as a chill ran down his spine. He despised the cold, and getting wet only made things worse. Once he caught his breath, he dragged the elk out of the stream and began carrying it back to where Taylor and Cliffjumper were hidden away.

At least he was rewarded for his efforts.

•
•
•

Within the sheltered walls of an ancient, hollowed oak trunk, Ratchet and Cliffjumper were curled up next to a crackling campfire that Taylor had made. There was a hole at the top of the trunk for the smoke to escape through, so there was no need to worry about smoke inhalation.

Taylor sat with her back against Ratchet's side, her eyes trained on the flickering flames that licked the edges of the elk meat she was currently roasting. It filled the trunk with a warm, comforting scent that made her mouth water. A thought then crossed her mind.

"Ratchet?" She inquired, turning the meat a little. "Have you ever had cooked elk?"

Ratchet let out a soft sigh. His eyes remained shut. "I have." He replied.

Taylor found herself perplexed by his answer.

"How? I thought you guys only eat raw meat. Like... carcasses 'n stuff." She said.

"We didn't always eat like that." Cliffjumper chimed in as he laid his head on his paws and set his gaze on Taylor. "Back when Iacon and the other settlements were still around, we used to cook meals with meat and things we either grew or foraged from the forest. Then times got tough and we had to go back to the old ways of hunting to survive."

"What?!" Taylor exclaimed, his words shocking her. She turned to look at Ratchet with a slight frown. "You never told me that!"

"It wasn't important." Ratchet answered with an amused snort, one eye opening to look at her. "And you never asked."

"Ooh, ask him about his famous honeycomb sweets! Those things were dangerously good." Cliffjumper chuckled.

Taylor's voice grew a pitch higher with excitement. "Honeycomb sweets?!"

Ratchet narrowed his eyes. "Cliffjumper, don't give her any ideas."

"Why? I can't remember the last time you made 'em!"

"Right before the war started, most likely, since everything was rationed after that."

"No, I could've sworn you made 'em one time when Prime was sick!"

"Optimus could barely keep the medicine down. Surely I didn't waste resources making something he would vomit right back up."

"Okay, hang on a minute!" Taylor silenced the two dragons before their quarrel could continue. She pointed at Ratchet and smiled. "Tell me everything."

"Everything?" Ratchet scoffed. When he noticed Taylor staring at him with an entirely serious but also pleading expression, he sighed and lifted his head. "Fine. Eat your food. I'll tell you what I can remember."

"Yes!" Taylor cheered, eagerly pulling her elk meat kebab from the fire and settling in to listen.

Ratchet cleared his throat and crossed one paw over the other.

"To feed a settlement as large as Iacon, one could not solely rely on hunting." The medic began. "The forests would be overhunted and the rivers and streams would be overfished. To address this issue, Iaconian leaders devised a plan to reduce the need to hunt by incorporating other food sources, which is how the first gardens came to be."

Taylor took a slow bite from her kebab, hardly noticing the savory taste as she was completely captivated by Ratchet's story.

"Of course, large gardens and extravagant meals were reserved for the wealthy and powerful, while smaller gardens and simpler meals were more frequent among the commoners. Most grew their own food in order to support themselves." Ratchet continued. "I was a medic at one of the more prominent medical centers until I started my own clinic. My busy schedule combined with my position in society often limited my access to decent meals and supplies, which meant I had to make do with whatever was on hand."

"But you were a medic! You were helping people!" Taylor exclaimed.

"A lot of dragons were in my position, unfortunately, and the only ones who could do something about it were too worried about their politics to care." Ratchet said while rolling his eyes. "Iacon's leadership was flawed in many ways, but I won't get into it."

"I can't believe you lived in such a sophisticated society! Almost... human-like. I wish I could've seen it." Taylor said.

Ratchet sighed, his gaze softening as he looked down at her. "You would've liked Iacon. It was a wonderful place full of life and opportunities." His expression fell and he lowered his head. "Not a day goes by where I don't wish things had gone differently."

"Yeah..." Cliffjumper mused. "I still remember the night it burned to the ground. You could see the glow of the flames from miles away."

Taylor felt a tug on her heartstrings. She couldn't imagine what it must've been like to lose a home, especially to someone like Megatron. Everything about the story was so tragic. She wished she could go back in time and somehow stop the events from taking place.

However, that meant she'd never meet Ratchet in the future, and they'd never go on the adventures they had been on. As heartbreaking as the story of Iacon and the war was, she was glad that fate had brought them together.

After a few moments had passed, Taylor reached out her hand and pressed her palm against Ratchet's snout. His hot breath tickled her arm and his scales felt almost buttery smooth under her fingertips. The medic eyed her with his weary blue eyes before he closed them and leaned into her touch, a sound similar to a purr emerging from the back of his throat. His tail curled around her in a protective manner.

"Get some rest." He murmured. "You need it."

"So do you." She whispered in return, smiling a little.

Ratchet let out a soft chuckle because he knew she was right. Resting his aching bones wouldn't be difficult tonight.