"Really, Devin, give yourself a break."

Conor had been watching him for a while now, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the furrow of his brow, and the way he was ferociously scribbling down notes.

"This dragon is probably only a few hours away--less than a day's ride," Devin began ranting. "We're so close. And judging by the information that these Glengavin folk have gathered over the past few months, I think I know just a little more about the thing we're up against here."

Conor shook his head. "Look out the window, it's already late into the evening," he said gently. "The best we can do right now is get a good night's sleep and set off in the morning."

The other boy leaned back in his chair and tipped his head towards the ceiling. "Forester dragons are usually docile," he said softly, seemingly to himself.

Conor let out a heavy sigh, standing up from his position on his bed. He quietly walked towards his friend, setting his hands on his shoulders. Devin lifted his head once more, turning it slightly to the side as Conor peered over him at the notes on the desk.

"Your handwriting looks like chicken scratch."

"Oh, shut up, yours can't be any better."

"The difference is that this is your handwriting when you're tired, and mine looks like a bird shat on the page."

Devin shook with laughter, but the noise was hardly audible.

"Okay." Conor straightened once more with a yawn. "Bedtime."

The two awoke early the next morning. In the matter of two hours, they had attended to their horses, read over Devin's messy notes, touched base with Clyde, and spoken to the lord of the castle, Lord MacDonnell; a jolly middle age man whose wide smile never seemed to falter. When they had at last escaped from his company, Conor thought he heard Devin make a noise of relief as they were walking down the hall.

Now, the two were tacking up their horses under Clyde's watchful eye.

"I think you two are insane," he admitted.

Conor flashed him a smile. "I've been called that before," he said brightly, "can't say the same for Devin."

"Saying that about me would probably count as treason," Devin grumbled.

Conor coughed.

Devin pursed his lips, mouthing "oops" at the ground.

Clyde didn't seem to hear him though. He gestured at the horses. "Wonderful beasts you two got," he commented. "What are their names?"

Devin and Conor shared a glance. Conor tightened his girth.

"Heron," Devin said suddenly. Both of them knew full well that he'd pulled the name out of his ass at the speed of light.

"Aye, like the bird! Never seen one of those buggers myself. Heard they're massive," replied Clyde, the excitement clear in his voice. He turned to Conor. "What's your horse's name, son?"

Conor had a sudden burst of creativity. "Balios," he chirped. (Fun Fact: Balios is the name of one of the Greek hero Achilles' immortal horses, the other being Xanthos. Alternate spellings are Balius and Xanthus)

"Beautiful." Clyde clapped his hands enthusiastically. "Alright, I won't keep you any longer. Safe travels, boys, and by Tellun! Don't get yourselves killed. I was just starting to become quite fond of you."

Conor's heart warmed ever so slightly at the concern. "No need to worry, we'll be careful," he assured the man, hopping up into the saddle. Devin did the same just a second after him.

"Better be," Clyde added gruffly. "See ya later, kiddos."

And with that, the two of them were off with nothing but dust in their wake.

"I'm still upset about losing my notes," Devin was complaining.

Conor had worked hard to tune the boy's nervous rambling out, but it was becoming more and more difficult the longer they rode on. "You squinted at them so often, I was convinced you had them completely memorized."

"I do," Devin confirmed, "but they made me look smart."

Conor shook his head in disbelief. "You don't need your nose in a journal to make yourself look smart, Dev," he mumbled.

"Did you just indirectly call me intelligent?"

"Yes."

"That's cute."

Conor straightened his posture, rolling his shoulders back. "Well, I need to be extra nice to you, knowing you could have my head once we get back into Trunswick."

"For what?"

"Treason."

"I don't want your head. There's not much in there."

Conor made a pouty face. They passed by a large rock formation, which held their attention for a good long time. If they listened hard enough, they could hear a rushing river somewhere in the distance, but after their recent interaction with one, neither of them were tempted to venture in its general direction. What Conor avoided doing was looking down. They were several hundred feet above the ground on the side of a mountain. It would probably be best if he didn't.

"Do we even know where we're going?" Conor asked suddenly.

"Of course," Devin responded breezily.

"Where are we going, Mr. Navigator?" the blond haired boy asked, doubtful. Devin grinned at him.

"Well, dragons like to be alone, y'know? So, if you were a massive dragon, where would you prefer to be?" He laid the question out so simply, it almost stunned Conor.

"Somewhere quiet. Somewhere where I can see for miles," Conor answered slowly.

"Right, right, and what is the quietest place in the mountains?" Devin pressed on.

"The top. Do you think this Forester might be in a cave?"

Devin gave him a funny look. "Do you think Foresters are uncivilized? They live in lovely temples, actually. It's said that back in the day, the people living near these temples would leave offerings outside of them in return for the dragon's protection over their home."

"My bad," Conor said simply. "Heading for the top, in any case. Might want to bundle up."

The day got colder the closer they got to the top of the mountain. It was not the tallest mountain in existence, so they didn't need to worry about not having enough oxygen. Conor could certainly feel the change in air quality, however. It seemed to leave Devin a little rattled.

"What do these temples look like?" Conor questioned. He wanted to know what he should be looking out for.

Devin shrugged. "A temple," he said simply.

"Very helpful," Conor whispered.

For another hour, they ascended until Conor could clearly see the peak. For another half hour, they searched and scanned, checking every crack and cranny.

Eventually, something caught Conor's eye. The top of the mountain was cold and rocky. For miles, he hadn't seen many plants. If he had, they were long dead. But now, a patchy wall of limp vines rounded a bend of the path they had been following. They were the only live plants Conor had seen in a very long time.

"Devin," he hissed.

Devin sharped, turning around and leading Heron towards the other rider and horse. "What?" he grumbled.

Conor nodded towards the vines, meeting Devin's gaze. The corner of Devin's mouth twitched. He could guess he was trying to suppress a nervous smile. "That's truly something," Devin said finally, burrowing deeper into the coat Clyde had sent them off with.

"Well, come on," Conor encouraged lightly, beginning to walk forward. "I'm sure this dragon is tired of waiting."

There was soft scuffs on the ground as Devin hesitantly followed him. "Why are you so anxious all of a sudden, Devin?" Conor wondered aloud. "You're the one who knows the most about these creatures."

"That's precisely why I'm scared, Conor."

Conor paused. Devin never openly admitted he was afraid. It was practically taboo for a prince, especially one in the Trunswick family.

Devin took a deep breath. "I know how destructive dragons can be. I know that if you piss one off, you'll never live to tell the tale. I know how sharp their claws are, how hot their fire is, how terrifying their teeth are. If that's not enough to frighten someone to the very core, then I don't know what is."

Conor drew Balios up to a halt, then turned to face the prince at his side. "You'll come out of here alive, Devin," he said sincerely. Devin stared past Conor, as if ashamed to meet his eye after admitting his fear. "You'll survive because you've been surviving for sixteen years and you'll keep going for a good seventy more. You'll become the greatest ruler Trunswick has seen in centuries."

Devin appeared to be blinking away tears.

"And if you walk out of here alone, then..." Conor hesitated, lowering his gaze. "Consider it my final duty to my king. To my friend."

"I'm no king, Conor."

"You are in my heart," Conor said softly, then wordlessly trotted ahead.

He rounded the corner and faced the temple, heart thudding.