Startide woke up with a searing headache. His skull felt as though it could split open any moment. At least he had survived another day. His animus curse was growing stronger, much stronger. Some day, soon, the fire that started in his soul would snuff out everything about him. His very existence would be lost to dragonkind, and the fire would engulf his body until all that remained were smoldering ashes and a crater where he last had been.

At least that didn't happen this time.

Startide looked around him, he laid on a pile of soft, white cushions, in a cave with white walls. Hanging flowers of white and yellow and lavender clustered on twisting vines that hung from most of the walls. Caves carved into the walls held a few more dragons, mostly small dragonets. Some with a frostbite wound had bags of heated rocks over the ice, others with a SandWing tail barb accident were quickly given both IV's and ointment of brightsting cactus juice.

This was the infirmary.

Startide laid in his own niche, on the left wall of the infirmary, high above the ground, near little more than halfway to the ceiling. The exit, another animus sea-tunnel, was on the ground to his right. As he looked around, there were more exits, in the ceiling. Pale dragon healers, usually either Sand, Ice, or RainWing hybrids, flew in and out through more tunnels in the ceiling. They were much smaller, only fitting one or two dragons through each. Most likely used for emergencies. In between each tunnel, was a skylight, more than Startide had seen in any cave before. Outside, the big, white fluffy clouds rolled across their azure sky.

Down below, on the ground or flat-topped stalagmites, nursing dragons were helping younger hybrids with severe deformities. Their genetics just didn't stick like others. One dragonet was being taught to fly and right himself with the two gnarled tails that he had. One Sand, one Sea. Another struggled with ten-clawed talons. A third had no forefeet at all, and was walking with help on hind legs, using her wings as a balancing agent.

His bed of cushions smelled softly of perfume. Startide drank from a small pitcher of water at his bedside, as a sweetly-looking Sand-IceWing hybrid landed noiselessly beside him. She looked no more than a year or so older than him, most likely in training

"Oh, I see you are awake." she said sweetly, scribbling something on her clipboard tucked under one wing. The nurse skimmed quickly over Startide, her claws checking his wings, tail, talons, and chest with smooth accuracy and speed. She was an expert with this sort of thing. She stopped at Startide's neck, which was plastered over with bandages. Slowly, the nurse unraveled them. She smiled, looking pleased with herself, and clipped away the rest with her serrated claws.

"Congratulations, Startide. You have fully recovered." she smiled again. Startide looked down at the unholy, twisting stitches in his neck. They looked like veins that were pumping darkness through his blood, from his head to his heart. Eclipse must have sliced a few large arteries. Startide felt a wave of nausea, and looked away from the gnarled stitching.

"How long was I asleep?" He asked. The animus fire could snuff out his consciousness from minutes, to months. The latter had happened once, and when he woke up, Startide was close to starvation.

"Nearly three days." The nurse said. "Eclipse was up only a few hours or so after the incident. And everyone in the infirmary has been praying for your recovery, most thought you'd never wake up. No one has seen animus power like yours in their life."

"Three days..." Startide trailed off.

"Oh, no worries. We've kept an IV of concentrated sunshine vitamins in you to prevent starvation. The mixture was concocted by a Rain-NightWing scientist once. It's a liquid form of the nutrients only RainWings can soak from sunbeams alone. In this state, all of the vitamins you need to live can be drank or entered the bloodstream, and you'll feel full as a RainWing after suntime."

"Thank you. Does this mean I'm being discharged?"

"Tomorrow, yes. You seem fine for now; but as a precaution, one more night here couldn't hurt."

"I suppose that's fine..." Startide sighed, nestling his head back on his pillows.

"Oh, but you do have a visitor! She's been waiting for you to wake up for quite some time. I can send for her if you'd like."

"Yes, thank you."

The nurse smiled, and flitted away, spiraled upwards to the tunnels in the ceiling, and disappeared.

Those must be for faster, unobstructed travel of the healers. In case of an emergency. They could be easily deployed to the rest of the school.

Only a minute or so later, the nurse zipped back down into the infirmary, a Sand hybrid with a lumpy package in her arms behind her. The dragonet flew to Startide very quickly, as the nurse soared off to tend to other patients.

"Thtartide! Thank the moonth you're okay!" she shouted, with a noticeable lisp. Her "S" sounds sounded like "th" instead. When the dragonet landed on the ledge of Startide's room, he recognized her as Orchid, Silt's younger half-sister. Her RainWing's fangs stuck out of her upper lip. "Here, I brought you thomething."

She placed the cloth-wrapped package in front of Startide. In crumbled, broken pieces, was Ivan, made of marble. In his open mouth, a note was stabbed through one stone fang. Einstein picked it up carefully.

Young  Startide.

I am sad to say, if you are reading this note, your companion Ivan, has been killed, as your brilliant mind  must have already deduced. He has returned to his original form, from which I created him. I know he is gone, that the one present I gifted you is no more, but fear not. By now, I am sure you are strong enough to slay enemies and sing yourself to sleep. Ivan is only gone because his purpose has been fulfilled. remember that i always have and will, from beyond my grave, love you, Startide.

-Your Pop Pop, Orphaner

"Pop, pop?" Startide remembered. His grandfather was an animus too, and taught him how to use his fire-form on his hatching day at three. That's when he was given Ivan, as a protector.

"He theemed like a good pet. I felt I should bring him back to you, even if... Y'know. I'm thorry that happened to him. Eclipth ith thuch a "tail end of the warthog" type of dragon."

Startide wrapped Ivan back in the cloth. "Thank you. Why would you do this for me? Didn't I, hurt you?" he asked.

"Well, yeth. You did. Thilt ith thtill pretty mad about it, but I forgive you. You didn't mean it, I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Itth okay."

"If you don't mind my asking, how did you get that lisp? Is it a genetic thing?"

Orchid looked a little hurt. "No, that ith what happened when you hit me. My fangth were out when I yelled, and you popped me right in the thnout. Nurth Permafrotht ith helping me with thpeech therapy, though. It'll be better thoon."

"I, am so, sorry..." Startide apologized. He didn't mean to ruin his dragon.

The most awkward silence ensued in Startide's life.

"Anywayth, I should get going." Orchid said, drawing her wings tighter around her body. Her green eyes sparkled, and she smiled at Startide. "My brother wantth to go hunting later, tho we have to bother Octoputh until she'll take uth." she giggled. "Maybe I'll thee you around. I'm free for a thparring match or hanging out in the library anytime."

"That'd be nice." Startide smiled. Orchid's was pretty infectious. Adorably goofy with her pearly fangs poking out like that.

The Sand-Rain hybrid looked over the edge of Startide's room, as another silence dragged the seconds to eternities. The sunlight glinted merrily off of her sandy scales, and enriched the emerald splotches on her arms and curled tail. She tipped off the edge and plummeted a few feet before spreading her light-peach wings and gliding smoothly down to the sea-tunnel.

Startide felt a warmness creep up his spine and fan over his skin. It wasn't the sunlight on his gray-blue scales. It wasn't the violent fire that has smoldered to coals now. But he was happy; and the warmth made him smile sleepily. With a yawn, Startide rested his head on his talons, and let his heavy eyelids drop.