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It was good to get away from the city; to see the plants and the animals in all their natural splendor. For the next couple of weeks he'd be free of the daily grind that seemed to clutch at his very soul. The last day before his vacation had been the worst, but now he was away, away from the Trade Center. For an entire two weeks he would see nothing of civilization.

It was, however, too bad he'd never learned to be quiet. The only thing he got to see were the plants (which didn't do much of interest), and a glimpse of fur as whatever wildlife was in the area fled.

When night arrived, he setup the small dome tent he'd brought in a large clearing. He tossed his knapsack inside before taking a couple of photos of the area, the noise of the camera scaring off any wildlife that remained. Once the camera ejected the photos, he discovered that none of them had turned out; probably it was already too dark.

He had difficulty sleeping that night as dreams of nocturnal predators plagued him along with thoughts of being torn apart and eaten. Why couldn't he have remembered these fears while still safely back home?

It was, however, too late to turn back now. If he was to do so, everyone would know that he was scared of even that wildlife living within a day's walk of the Trade Center.

He woke with the sun, mildly surprised that he hadn't been mauled in his sleep. He collapsed his tent, slipped it into the bottom of his knapsack, and put his camera around his neck on a strap. All this done, he continued his wanderings.

He slept better the second night, although still not as well as he would have if he'd remained in his tiny apartment (he'd seen larger closets on the mainland, but that's what he got for getting himself relocated to this island).

The day after that he encountered stone ruins. They appeared largely collapsed and the stone was crumbling from long years of neglect; these were relics of the days when the kramon (or, as the people back in his homeland who never saw the slightest hint of the creatures, called them, dragons) ruled the island. Not that they'd had much of a presence that human history could recall. He doubted many people even realized that the Kramonjut Lazew gifted the island to the International Council a hundred years previous.

As he walked through the ruins, Jason examined the colorful walls, taking pictures of anything that looked even slightly interesting. He had plenty of film in his knapsack.

From what Jason could see of the city, nearly every exterior wall had once been covered with brilliantly colored frescos. He didn't go inside any of the buildings; most did not appear very stable and, if one collapsed on him, no one would know where to look to rescue him. In protected spots, he could see parts of the images, mostly bits of legs. A few protected walls, mostly in narrow alleys, still retained enough of an image that he could make out entire bodies.

On the side of a particularly large and intact building, standing just off of what must have been the central square of the city, even the windows remained unbroken as well as a large fresco that seemed to depict numerous kramon engaged in sexual acts. Though he blushed as he saw it, he, none the less, took photos of it. More, in fact, than he would normally have done so. It was the most intact he'd found, after all.

After exploring the ruins a while longer, he setup his tent in the middle of the square and tossed his knapsack inside to weight it against the wind. He couldn't exactly hammer tent-stakes into the cracked pavement after all.

That night was the most comfortable he'd had since he'd left home. Perhaps just the idea of having buildings around helped? He was city-bred after all.

He woke the next morning feeling refreshed. After collapsing his tent, he took a few more pictures before carrying on out of the ruins and into the forest once more.

Near the end of the day, as the sun was just nearing the ever-distant horizon, he came upon a large animal stretched out in one of the remaining patches of sun. For a moment he thought it was dead; nothing else had remained while he approached. Then he saw its chest expanding and contracting slowly; probably it was asleep.

Pulling out his camera he took a couple of pictures. His worry that the noise would wake the creature proved unfounded since the creature in question didn't seem to notice.

As he made his way around the creature, it became very clear that it was a part of the same biological group that the kramon belonged in: six-limbed creatures. Since there were no creatures of that group native to this island, the creature was clearly out of its area.

As Jason realized what he was looking at, the camera fell from his fingers, only the neck-strap saving it from crashing to the ground. There, laying before him and crushing numerous ferns beneath it, was one of the kramon. A dragon. He hadn't recognized it at first because this one looked different than the ones he normally saw; perhaps it was that the kramon looked far more at home stretched out on the unfortunate vegetation than any had appeared in the cramped quarters of the Trade Center, or that it lacked the harness that all the other kramon seemed to wear.

Jason hid his knapsack in a bush and crept forward, doing his best to remain silent; every time he heard something crack beneath his feet he winced. The dragon must have been a deep sleeper, though, because it didn't so much as twitch.

He stood just behind the dragon's neck, only just off of the wings stretched out across the ground. The smell of the kramon was strong, but not unpleasant. It was definitely better than the one those sagin he'd had the misfortune to work with had smelt (someone had once said, after the individual in question had left, that it smelt like they slept inside a month-old corpse). Although both were largely carnivorous, the kramon were much more fastidious about their hygiene then any sagin he'd yet met.

On an impulse he reached out and gently ran his hand along the hide where one of the dragon's horns joined its skull. Halfway through this movement he froze; what if the kramon should wake? He pulled his hand away quickly.

When the dragon lifted its head and looked at him, blinking its eyes sleepily, he nearly fainted. He wasn't trained for dealing with kramon!

"Are you having fun?" it asked with a wry tone.

"I'm so sorry," he said, taking a couple of steps backwards. "I didn't realize you were awake!"

A long grin formed on the creature's lips. "So it's okay to poke at someone while they're asleep, but not if they're awake?" The kramon rolled onto its chest.

Jason nearly panicked; how should he answer the question? "Ah... Er... I'm sorry to have disturbed you; I'll let you return to your rest."

"No! Please!" One forepaw gripped Jason's leg as the dragon looked up at him. "Stay a while; please."

Jason looked down at the dragon, and he had a strange thought: he was looking straight into the dragon's nostrils. "Ah... Well... I suppose, as long as I'm not getting in your way or anything."

"Oh, thank you!" the kramon said, pulling Jason into a not-entirely-comfortable embrace. "Thank you! I'm Val Salr by the way."

"Jason. I'm Jason."

Val Salr worked its muzzle under his arm, still not releasing him from its embrace.

"I'm so glad to meet you! I was getting so lonely out here, my friend is always unavailable now. I'm not laying here all alone anymore now."

"Er... Likewise." Jason didn't have any idea what to say; just how was he supposed to handle overly friendly dragons?

"So, just what good fortune brings you out this way?" the dragon asked, sniffing him between its words.

"I was, I mean, I am on vacation, a walk about. A hike through the woods sort of thing."

"That's so good to hear! You have lots of time then?"

"A couple more days I suppose," he told it. "I'm going not going to be staying in any one place very long, though."

"That's fine; I'll walk along with you," Val Salr told him.

"Er... Well... Who's that friend you mentioned?" Jason wasn't so much interested in the friend, but rather in changing the subject.

"You don't want to hear my woes," Val Salr told him. "Let us dwell on more optimistic subjects, shall we? Why don't you tell me about the Trade Center; I've never actually been there."

Jason shook his head. "No; I do want to hear your story." Actually he had very little interest in the story, but at least the dragon wouldn't be asking about him while it spoke. He'd never been comfortable talking about himself.

"Sit then; since you're so interested I'll tell you." Jason sat where the dragon gestured. "The story begins about thirty years ago; I was just coming of age and beginning my apprenticeship to a master of the Ancient Arts. At the same time I was trying to find myself a mate, but my studies were all-consuming and, no matter how appealing a man was, I had no time.

"I did, however, eventually meet one. We got along well together and everything seemed to be going well until he took someone else as his mate. Of course, THAT was when I realized I loved him. I continued my apprenticeship, although not with quite as much heart, and I watched him."

Val Salr shook her head and Jason noticed something shiny in the corners of her eyes. After a moment he realized they were tears.

"I spent as much time watching him as studying and I didn't believe he'd noticed. During this time I learned his mate's secret. Despite how she behaved in public, in private she was a curse of the gods. She'd tease him, only to pull away at the last moment and give him a mouthful of teeth instead, or sometimes she'd simply beat him, at times hard enough to make him bleed. Unfortunately, she had some basic command of the Arts and was able to heal those wounds before they'd go out, or before anyone would come in. But only if someone might see them.

"Although both his and her parents are encouraging them to have children, they never have. She claims its because he's sterile--I wouldn't be surprised, but it would be her doing--but from watching I know its simply because, other than the consummation of their marriage, they have never lain together.

"I watched for a few years. during that time I wished I could tell someone, but after admitting I'd been stalking Val Weth who would take my word for it? Not exactly the actions of the innocent and she has at least the appearance of an upstanding member of the community. I'm just an apprentice of the Ancient Arts.

"Eventually I managed to catch Val Teark-that's the man in question-alone and spilled everything out to him. I hadn't expected to, but I did.

"His response surprised me. He said that he'd noticed me watching one day, and he'd noticed my anger. After that he'd noticed more and more and he told me it comforted him that at least one person knew.

"After that we got together any time that Val Weth wasn't home. Surprisingly often, actually. Other than beating him and all, she didn't seem to really care about him one way or the other; more like some kind of a living punching bag than a husband.

"Not long ago Val Weth arrived home early and discovered me." Val Salr stopped speaking for a moment. When she continued her voice had lost a lot of strength and her tone wavered as though she were at the verge of tears. "She made me watch as he beat him; she raised welts as thick as salamanders on his back; welts hidden only by his blood. Although she tried, she wasn't able to force me to attack him. I wasn't going to give her that; not if she gave me all the pain in the world. That was a week ago."

When she stopped speaking this time it had an air of finality around it. The end of the story then. To his surprise, Jason had gotten involved in her story and he had found himself hoping it would turn out well (although he knew very well it wouldn't; she'd as much as warned him about that).

"So what are you dong here?" Jason asked, leaning against her shoulder. She was large enough that he wasn't worried about his weight hurting her and, he realized, he wasn't worried about her hurting him anymore either. Listening to her story had turned her into a person rather than just some creature he'd met in the woods.

"I didn't want to risk Val Weth hurting my Val Teark because of my presence so I removed myself from the area. The city is just across the straight."

The southern-most tip of Lazew Kramonjut then.

"Don't you have laws against that kind of thing? We certainty do." Although the efficacy of them was not always the greatest; the civilization on the island was small enough that most of the permanent residents knew each other. Legal judgments tended to favor the better known person rather than any sound legal principle.

"Only a very few; its only the past couple of centuries it occurred to anyone in charge that sort of thing might occur. Events like it have been brought to the local lord's attention only a handful of times and there is no way they're going to take the word of myself, who admits to stalking Val Teark-even if he didn't mind-and who is definitely an adulterer. I couldn't even charge her for what she did to me! I was both trespassing and seducing her husband away from her; she even convinced the lord the welts were my fault."

Jason held her head in his arms, her breath ruffling his shirt. He had been planning to sneak away from the dragon when he had the chance, but he now knew he wouldn't. She needed the company more than he needed the vacation. Perhaps there was something he could do for her.

"You know there's a ruined city on this island?" he asked.

The kramon nodded. "My people used to have a city here. It was abandoned a thousand years before I was born."

"Its getting dark," Jason said, stating what was obvious to anyone. "Perhaps in the morning you could tell me more about it? I don't know much about your kind."

She grinned. "And you living just next door. Its been a long time since I've heard the story--its not a very popular one--but I'll see if I can remember it."

He retrieved his knapsack from where he had hid it and dropped it nearby, and in sigh. Although he very much would have preferred to curl up in his tent, he suspected that his draconic companion would have a strong preference for him to sleep outside. Fortunately it was still summer so that, other than the frequent rains, he wouldn't have to worry about the weather.

He exchanged his camera for a thick blanket from the knapsack, wrapping it around his body as he curled up near the dragon.

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