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As light fell through glass and onto white scales set aglint 'gainst the evening, the dragoness paced up and down the vaulted entrance hall, claws tapping marble tiles, gait measured and stately; her servants had rolled the runner back from the double door left open for her love's soon arrival. A jupe-pantalon appeared small behind the puffed forelimb sleeves of Ariss's white poet shirt, beneath which a blouse lay; blooms off the roses or not, they were her style. Her red eyes brought ample colour therewithal.

Silvery scales glid inside her mind: those of her lover, whom she would admonish, with a nuzzle or two, for being unpunctual. But shadows drawn long blurred as evening turned to twilight, and pacing hastened. Felsa wouldn't tarry without reason, nor be this late...unless one of those fiends from the alp clans had caught wind of their cavorting and intercepted her, a thought whereat Ariss blanched. She glared through a window and at the vale foreneath, which the early onset of snow had begun to wreathe.

Alone in the cold was her best hope, and, too, would be the best state in which to find Felsa. A red cloak Ariss donned.

Through the double doors and past her weary coachbold Kyree she strode, mountainside estate passing from beside to 'hind as she dashed across the building snow by her stabled stagecoach and charged towards the ridge's lip overlooking all; wings spread; with claw-sheared shale she flew, snowflakes askew.

Wings heaved air and she gained speed to hurry and then flew into the twisting pass that lay 'fore her manor, zooming past outcrops and crags that made the col's sides, the scree of which white was submerging. Onwards she glid, the last gasp of sunlight afore nightfall fled like the last drop of cleansed-wine, pupils flitting fro flock to rock while the Crown's peaks distanced, her flight half the path.

Her gaze descried the silver shine of a back that lay on the schists below--Felsa's; the Ceali dragoness was huddling against a boulder facing the descending breeze. It took all the will Ariss had to not dive then and there and instead coast down in a spiral of long breadth. She alit nearby while breath laboured tween the tips of Felsa's fangs, and then she saw: a large red, spiked drake, a tad larger than even Felsa, lay not far, in painted snow, a muscular--stilled--body fresh fall was beginning to bury.

"The dead, fool." Felsa wheezed. "Thought his size meant I'd submit to him." She struggled to rise. "If he'd relented, I could and would've spared him, but as he wouldn't, my claws and maw made short work of him." A forelimb gave; she refell and dust under her puffed. Her right wing was torn.

"And his you," Ariss said as she ducked underneath Felsa's side to prop her, "if you don't be careful." Ariss grimaced; a bandage Felsa had made from her own rugged travelling garb and wrapped around her waist dripped red. If not for the snow, Ariss would not have found her in the grey landscape till the near became bled as well.

Felsa turned down her head to meet the eyes staring at her blues.

"I should've listened," Felsa said as her tail swung to throw off weighing snow. "I knew this would happen. Ariss, my wounds are too great. Soon, they will whelm. I fear I'm going to die."

Within red eyes a glare turned glower raised a sun a thousand o'er and raked the snow from Felsa's hide as the wind rose. "Shut. It."

Felsa blinked and winced at the somewhat smaller dragoness's uncharacteristic and furious rage. Her eyes darted from side to side, but came to rest once more apon those of Ariss, a comfort therein. "I suppose I'll live." Corners upturned afore hacking returned.

"Can you fly?"

"No. We fought for long in the sky, and when I gained the advantage, I turned and he slashed at my wing. I shouldn't have--"

She coughed, her angular and normally impassioned features contorted, and folded her wings.

"Tried to ignore him: noble but unwise. Come, on and by snow, you and I shall walk the rise."

Up the pass the two started to wend, a very distant something clacking, Felsa leaning on Ariss, while that of which sleet had forewarned them made true on its promise due; steps staggered to trudging plods, for wind and snow rose to bring the buffeting of the blizzard's bourn.

Shelter, but where? All that could weather the snowstorm and the downswing of its flaws would yet be caved in by the blizzard to come. No, they must ascend post-haste, while the blizzard still whipped around the arêtes.

They rounded a bend in the pass and--

"Your grace," croaked Kyree, who, twice cloak-engulfed, held onto the railing of her wolf-drawn stagecoach, horse-sized wolves made grander by the kobold's height. Kyree hopped off the driver's seat and opened the right door, and Ariss hurried Felsa inside and entered herself soon aft, but not afore thanking Kyree; he deflected her praise, then returned to the driver's seat, vocally instructing the six wolves the way back up the slope and thence to the manor.

***

Inside the parlour of the piano nobile and on top of a dust-cover clad divan rested Felsa; on the few past occasions 'twas required, the drawing room on the second floor served as a sickroom, for the height of the balconies easened alighting for weakened dragons, but with Felsa unable to fly, there was no need, despite the grumbling of a few servants regarding the shifting of medical items from above to below; besides, there were no means wherewith Felsa could reach that floor nor whereby they could deliver her to it, for Ariss possessed not the strength to fly her up, and the small platforms and mezzanine her kobolds clamb throughout the day, and night when necessitated, would never hold Felsa's weight. Ariss near caught herself wishing she had installed those human_'stairs,'_ but the exercise was good for the 'bolds.

Yent (Ariss's physician and a blue kobold) helped Ariss attend to Felsa's wound: a claw carved gash that had gained a slight black tinge along its edges--a stage of frostbite--but yet had fortunately avoided infection. Once the urgent mending work was completed, Yent took over, for that which remained to be done called for the finer dexterity of a kobold's small hands. For twain hours, Ariss watched him work away and stitch with immaculate precision; as he kept watch on Felsa's reactions, he took care to not look at any part of her for longer than necessary, particularly those of her waist--a thoughtfulness Ariss always appreciated.

Aft a day and night, they moved her to the chambers of Ariss (she slept elsewhere pro tem to provide space for Felsa's recovery), where she slept soundly atop Ariss's lit à Colonnes, reading amidst candlelight when she gathered sufficient strength. Rugs patterned the wood floor, and tapestries hung let not the frosting outside sap the room's warmth. On the other side of the window, whose curtains were spread slight during the day, jutted a balcony, unused for the time being. She was able enough to walk, with assistance, to the other chambers as required.

'Twixt the flurries of snow, Ariss and her retinue ventured to find the corpse of the drake, after the locating whereof they further went afield and found a sheltered glade, and amidst the spruces, they buried him. Ariss would meet with the clans and inform them of his death and burial when the weather sufficiently calmed and allowed for travel, but theretofore, the tidings of the loss of a clan's_general_ would be blocked by the blizzard.

For each day of the week, Ariss visited Felsa, who fell and awoke from deep sleeps intermittently, and talked with her, of her health and of the slain general--consequences thereof wherefrom Ariss would protect Felsa. Her wing membrane fared well, but still, the rebonding skin curled in ways it never had hitherto.

"Shall she fly again?" Ariss asked. She closed full the curtains of the large room as twilight drew.

"Yes, she should," Yent rasped.

"And, shall she scar?" A terrible ill ran Ariss for asking such, as if matters of vanity amounted to aught when life fought, but it would be best for any scar she could have prevented through more prompt action to be known forthwith; guilt was better faced head-on, at least in her view, at any rate.

"Yes." Ariss looked to Felsa and her furled wings, and her own eyes began to glist. "But, as you know, her species is of exceptional regenerative capabilities, and its members are most commonly of a certain temperament..." Yent trailed. He was alluding to the way wherein Ceali dragons healed through private intimacy, a fact whereto Ariss was of the few privy, although she had not learnt that the healing was so thorough. She would have offered private discussion to her earlier if the threat of scale stitches undoing had not loomed.

"Oh? Oh. Thank you, Yent. I should like to have the twilight and night with Felsa." Yent nodded and left, he and four other kobolds from the hall closing the tall door behind him. Ariss walked to the side of Felsa. "Felsa, I know you have tired greatly, but Yent has told--"

"He reminded me too, and I am all for it," Felsa said when she laid her clawed hand apon that of Ariss. "I'm well enough now." Her resting of her hand turned to gripping, and Ariss suppressed a gasp and retrieved a silk cloth from the nightstand, whereon a table mirror stood, then grinned while she drew the thick draperies and tied them, closing the tester off from the rest of the room, albeit with candlelight yet piercing to softly illuminate their own world.

Ariss lay atop Felsa, and she touched a claw to her hard, silvery chest scales as she leant towards her to whisper, "I'll be gentle."

"You always are. Just one of the many things I love about you, Ris."

They nuzzled, their shadows concealed and muffled by the density of the draperies, and began to make love, and as the times afore, they did so without entering each other, for neither felt any pleasure apon lancing of any kind; in lieu of such, they caressed and stroked and tasted.

Fels could not strain herself lest she tore flesh anew, so she relaxed as Ris slid downwards, stilling between scaleplated hindlegs and gazing for a moment afore unfastening her garment's flap, then curving her neck. Her tongue skimmed across the matte scales around her sex, and Fels sighed; she never minded how unhurried Ris was during their times together, and that didn't change now.

Fels's scales had the faintest hint of a chalky yet sweet flavour--an outcome of her work in the fields of Avindor. While Ris mused over the finer qualities of her lover, Fels slackened her hindlegs even further so that they lay outstretched on either side of Ris. Eventually, Ris licked across her slit and Fels cooed, their tails entwinning as their wings unfurled.

"That I cannot return your touches pains me."

"We shan't risk that for which you yearn, not quite yet, although sooner than one might expect, mayhap." Ris struggled to organise her words as her every pass came nearer to what called to her and she herself desired; closer, closer.

"I've readied," Fels murmured.

And Ris's tongue caressed her clit, drawing a soft moan from both as sweetness flowed. Warmth swept across, from wingtip to toe.

She never darted, never dashed, her motions rolling as the waves of Fels's steady heart, a constant steadiness that emerged from her courage: the courage that had brought them together a year ago... ah, but the present beckoned, and Ris's focus heeded.

Her slow circles had long and happily given way to light, direct pressing, and when Ris's lick covered both slit whole and clit, they both each raised one hand and held them together, eyes locking, pupils widening, and...

Fels legs stayed astride while she gently pushed up, pressing her flat mound to the front of Ris's snout--Ris kept her tongue on her clit, but moved slightly aside the lower part that covered her slit, a move they had discussed and to which they had assented aforehand in intimacies past--and clear fluid lightly sprayed for ten beats, their eyes staying locked. And then, she lowered, Ris's head following.

"I am sorry, my love." Fels paused to exhale, the curved corners of her maw glowing to Ris, who used the cloth to pat Fels dry afore she climbed up to beside her. "I did not expect to have such a strong release." She decided to not admit enjoying Ris's choice of light adornment.

Ris did not mind, not even at the first coating, nor when she untied one drapery and looked at her reflection; it brought to the fore that she had aided Fels in healing, and she rather liked how it gleamed on her scales, adding an endazzling gloss to her visage that complemented and intensified her glint into a gleam.

"I can bear the shame of my staining of you no longer. Pass me that cloth and let me--"

"'Tis no stain, for it reminds me of how I have, and will again, I hope, helped you heal; I dared a glance at your wound as I climbed and can say your scales knit as my face dries."

"That is good news," Fels said, then gulped, eyes opening to full. "You're going to let it dry?"

"Only if it would not disturb you, but yes, I should relish to let it; and fret not, for I shall lave myself later and then retire for the night with you."

"Yes. To both."