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I've never been a fan of the living; I much prefer the company of the dead.

• Fenris Skjoll

Varg sat at the edge of their camp, working a needle and thread through the bloodied flesh of his left forearm, working to close the wound with the narrow thread Kath had stolen from one of the dragon's destroyed medical tents. Kath sat at the far end of the camp from the dragon, running a whetstone over the blade of her narrow dagger, quietly mumbling that Varg was wasting all of her medical supplies.

Kath looked at the gem that now dangled over the dragon's bare chest, brushing against one of the many bandages the dragon had affixed for himself as he worked. She gently prodded the fire with a length of twig, admiring how both Varg's scales and the pendant caught the light of the flame.

"What's the big deal with the gem anyways?" Kath asked, stirring the ash of the fire absentmindedly as she watched the well-toned dragon work on his stitching.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it," Varg said plainly, clearly trying to end that line of conversation, only to pique the jackal's interest further.

"And why is that?" Kath asked, leaning closer to the large reptile, short black fur and long black ponytail stirring as the warm air of the fire cast breezes through the cool night air.

"Because it's none of your concern," the dragon said, flinching as the needle tore through his sensitive scales.

"Excuse me?" Kath said indignantly, "I'm risking my life hauling your fat, injured ass across thirteen hundred miles for some stupid necklace, and that's 'none of my concern?'"

Varg sighed as he finished his needlework and began wrapping the wound, "That's not what I meant."

"Really?" Kath demanded, "What did you mean then?"

"I mean that its better you not know," He said, using his razor-sharp fangs to tear off a bit of bandage, "Suffice to say it's imperative that I get it back to Tal'Krovak."

Kath snorted and stretched out over her bedroll, gazing upward to the slowly spinning mass of stars that hovered above them, allowing silence to fall over the camp, broken only by the occasional pop of the fire and the chirp of crickets.

"So tell me," she said, breaking the quiet, "How did you lose that battle? I mean, I thought you dragons had the best military in the world."

"We do," Varg said, rubbing salve over the shredded edge of one of his massive wings, "but the undead aren't a normal army."

"How so?" Kath asked, tracing out the constellations she remembered from her father's stories: The Hawk, The Mountain, The Gate, and finally The Jackal.

"The undead don't need supply lines, so you can't cut them off; they don't lose numbers during battle, so unless you kill the necromancer, you haven't done anything."

Kath nodded, trying to remember the words to the song that told the story of all the stars, managing only to recall a bit of the first verse, "So you can't kill them?" she asked.

"You can, in a manner of speaking," Varg said, finally lowering himself onto his own bedroll, salvaged from a collapsed tent on the fringes of the battlefield, "if you destroy their head or their heart, the necromancer loses control, but if the bodies aren't burned, they can be raised again and again until there's nothing left."

"So how many necromancers were there at the battle you fought in?" Kath asked, toying with a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail.

"One," Varg said quietly, voice stern and cold.

Kath nearly leapt to her feet in shock at the dragon's statement, "ONE?!" she yelled, "one necromancer did all of that?!" she waved an arm towards where the battlefield several miles away.

"Yes," the dragon growled venomously, "Morgana Le Fay."

"You mean THE Morgana Le Fey?" Kath asked incredulous, "The one that killed Damien Malcus and Fenris Skjoll?"

"Yes," Varg said, "the self-proclaimed Queen of the Dead, Master of Ghosts and Demon Speaker, undisputed master of necromancy and conqueror of The Deadmount."

Kath shook her head in disbelief, "Damn, I had heard she was powerful, but to do what she did to you..."

"Huh, we should just count ourselves lucky she killed Malcus and Skjoll, or else we'd be in much worse trouble than we are now," Varg said, closing his eyes and sinking into sleep, "because as powerful as she is, she was nothing compared to those two."

---

Morning came too early, and with it a hunger that had gone unnoticed the previous night. Kath stretched her limbs of their rigid aches as Varg struggled to stand with the help of his sword and a nearby tree.

"You're going to have to hunt," Varg said, groaning as the pain from his injuries finally set in fully.

Kath sighed, grabbing her bow from where she had placed it the night before, stringing it with practiced ease and setting off into the forest at an easy jog. She continued at a steady pace until she cleared the area around the camp, slowing to a mild walk as she searched the foliage for signs of prey. The forest was sparse, with too little water to allow for the thick growth she was accustomed to, instead allowing for wide distances between the trees, with a rough gathering of brambles and bushes lining the forest floor.

Kath felt her boot catch another half-buried root along the leaf strewn ground, causing her to nearly lose her balance as she followed a faint trail of some kind of deer or elk.

"And I bet that damn dragon is just sitting on his ass back at the camp, waiting for stupid old Kath to bring his majesties' breakfast to him like a good little servant," she mumbled angrily as she stomped through the undergrowth, "stupid dragon with his... wings... and... scales..."

She followed the trail for almost an hour, finally coming upon a wide clearing filled with half a dozen deer, grazing upon the odd patch of grass or drinking from a narrow stream. Kath brought her bow up before her as she crouched in the foliage at the edge of the clearing, hazel eyes searching over her possible targets, finally settling on a smaller female that appeared older than most of the others. As silently as possible, she nocked an arrow to the bowstring and drew back until the knuckle of her thumb touched the edge of her lips, steadying her arm before releasing, letting fly the arrow at lightning speed.

A high-pitched whine echoed through the clearing as the deer began to scatter, fleeing from their unseen attacker. The one she had targeted lagged behind, both its age and her wound slowing the animal to a limping walk, leaving her alone in the clearing as the others fled into the depths of the forest. Kath nocked another arrow, this time rising from her cover to get a clear shot at the deer.

Her second shot hit the deer directly in the heart, sending it to the ground in a sprawl, its injured whines cut off as its life was violently ended. Kath stood still for a moment, standing in the stock silence that enveloped the clearing before the birds resumed their mirthful chirping, either unknowing or uncaring for the deer's demise.

She stalked out of the underbrush to crouch over the carcass, pulling both of her arrows from her target to replace them in her quiver, grasping the poor creature by the neck to drag it back towards where she had come.

"Stupid dragon... and his stupid sword... and stupid... face..." She murmured to herself as she began dragging the heavy corpse back to camp.

The trip back to camp took considerably longer than the trip out to the clearing, Kath's pace slowed to a crawl by the weight of the deer's carcass. She dragged the body through the undergrowth, following the glints of sunlight that broke through the canopy, mumbling under her breath the entire way.

After what seemed an eternity of walking, she reached the treeline, emerging from the woods about a hundred yards from their camp, sighing in relief as she spotted the smoke of a fire rising in the mid-morning light.

She adjusted her grip on the deer's corpse and moved towards the camp, the task even more exhausting now that the end was in sight. She finally reached the edge of the fire pit and promptly dropped the deer and herself to the ground, lungs heaving in a vain effort to soothe her aching limbs.

It took several minutes for the realization hit her and she cast a glance around the camp; Varg's absence was now incredibly conspicuous now that she had come to notice it, and the realization that his scavenged bedroll and pack were also missing set Kath into a panicked frenzy.

She stood, peering along the plains and into the forest, searching for the dragon, "I knew it!" she growled, "That son of a bitch took my shit and my gem and left me here to die!"

Kath drew her bow from where she had strapped it over her shoulder and nocked an arrow to it, searching the dusty plain around their camp for any signs of where he went. She noticed a faint line in the dirt where his tail had dragged along the ground and followed its direction, moving from clue to clue in the general direction of the mountains.

"Got you now, bastard," she growled to herself, setting off after the dragon, ready to draw and fire her arrow at a moment's notice.

She followed his trail for less than five minutes before she spotted him; he stood on the peak of a steeply rising hill, his sword drawn but his body motionless. Kath watched him from the base of the hill, both curious and anxious. Even with her advantage at range, the hill would prove a great hindrance to her and even greater aid to him should she fail to take him down quickly.

Kath drew her bow and judged the shot from where she stood at the bottom of the hill, deciding the angle was too poor for her to attempt a shot. She dropped to her hands and knees and began to slowly stalk her way up the slope. She eventually reached the halfway point, slipping from cover to cover in whatever form she could get it. She drew her bow again and prepared to judge the shot once more, only to stop in her tracks as she watched the dragon.

Varg held the sword at arm's length, bare chest glistening with sweat as he swung the gargantuan blade through a series of sweeping assaults, each proving Kath's suspicions that she wouldn't have stood a chance against the man the day before. He swung the massive chunk of honed steel with a speed she couldn't manage with her considerably lighter dagger, spinning the weapon in ways that would push any normal man past the edge. Varg managed to wield the blade in such masterful motions with such minimal effort that Kath could only watch dumbfounded as his muscles rippled with his every motion, spinning the heavy blade in ways that would impress even the most skilled swordsman.

The only sign of effort to the dragon's motions was the sweat that beaded on his scaled muscles, merely adding to their natural shine. If his injuries caused him pain, he didn't show it;Varg's face was a mask of calm and concentration as he went through the practiced motions with his sword, wielding it with such skill as to make the deadly craft appear a work of art.

Kath watched him until he stopped, rubbing sweat from his brow with one hand and sheathing the greatsword with the other before sinking below Kath's range of vision. Kath then proceeded to continue her crawl up the hill, determined to discover the dragon's motives.

Kath emerged onto the crest of the hill to an odd sight: Varg sat with his back to the jackal, eyes focused entirely on the distant peaks that loomed over the whole of the plain like an impending doom. He sat with his long legs folded, that immense greatsword resting sheathed on his thighs.

His breath was calm, even as the sweat from his exercise continued its path downward through the crests and troughs that made up his thick, muscular form. Kath watched as his hands moved deftly in precise order through a series of well-practiced gestures and motions, finally coming to rest into an odd, folded position directly before his sternum. With the completion of the series of gestures, a pale blue light seemed to envelope the dragon, casting a dim glow over the hilltop that merged with the red of his scales and the crimson of the morning sunlight to bathe the dragon in a cool, soothing light.

Varg drew his head back, groaning in a mix of pain and ecstasy, as before her eyes, Varg's flesh began to squirm and shift, mending itself under the embrace of that warm blue light. Even as Kath watched, the rendered membrane of his wings was held together by invisible hands, inch by inch joined together. The spell was ended quickly, doing very little to close all of the dragon's wounds, but as the light faded away, the dragon was undeniably healthier.

Kath rose from her position of cover to stand above the sitting dragon, though his imposing height still brought his head to the height of her gut. She kept her bow drawn and focused on Varg, ready to let fly at any second.

"What the hell was that?" She demanded, watching as he slowly turned his head to face her, expression seemingly indifferent to the weapon now levied against him.

Varg rose, turning to face Kath as he did so, shifting the scabbard of his sword to his hip where it would be within easy reach.

"Magic," the red dragon said plainly.

"When were you planning on telling me this?" Kath barked, baring her fangs in indignant anger.

Varg cast a glance over his shoulder to the snow-capped mountains in the distance answering only after several moments of calm silence in the face of the wrathful jackal, "I planned on telling you the moment it became important."

"When would the fact that you're a FREAKING MAGE not be important?" Kath growled, "Like before you used all my bandages and salves when you could've just used magic?"

Varg gripped one of the bandages that adorned his muscular chest, tearing it from its place to reveal the wound underneath. The injury was a far sight better than it had the night before, but it still bled lightly under the gauze.

"Magic is capable of a great many things," he said, taking care to replace the bandage, "easy and instantaneous healing is not one of them."

"Really?" Kath snorted, "What was that then?"

"It is a healing technique that speeds the body's own efforts," Varg replied, moving to make his way down the hill, ignoring Kath's draw arrow, "It requires a great deal of concentration and effort, and it can only be done by someone with years of training."

Kath watched the dragon pass her and begin to make his way down the hill towards their camp; she begrudgingly released the tension of the bowstring, placing the arrow back into its quiver.

"You still should have told me," She said venomously, trying to keep up with the dragon's longer stride.

Varg sighed in defeat, rubbing his brow from a newly emergent headache, "I'm a Paladin."

"A what?" Kath asked, confused.

"Paladins are members of the warrior class that have been chosen by the high priests to receive special training," Varg said, retrieving his pack and beadroll from where he had stashed it at the bottom of the hill, "our order was originally created during the war with the Shoggoths; it was these early Paladins that captured Tal'Krovak."

"What do you mean 'captured?'" She asked as they reached the edge of the camp, "I thought Tal'Krovak was the dragon capital."

"It is," Varg said, quietly admiring the deer Kath had felled before setting upon it with his dagger, "Do you know the stories of the Shoggoths?"

Kath shrugged as she to set upon the deer, eager to have it cooked and eaten, "Bits and pieces. The village elders preferred stories about our own tribe."

Varg nodded and tapped his jaw pensively, "The Shoggoths lived on the earth long before the birth of dragons, jackals or any such creatures."

Kath paused, holding her bloodied knife held to the fur of the deer as the dragon continued his story.

"They were not of this world," he said, "they had come here from beyond the veil of time from some hellish realm. They built temples to their dark gods and altered the world to suit their desires, shaping the world to match their own."

"Like what?" Kath asked.

Varg pointed over her head towards where they had come from, beyond the hilltop to the immense mountain range that spanned the whole of the continent, dividing north from south like a jagged scar on the landscape.

Kath looked over the mountains with awe and dread, their monstrous height giving testament to their monstrous creators, "Really?"

Varg nodded, "the Deadmount is built upon the remains of their great city, spanning the whole of the mountain range, buried beneath leagues of solid stone."

"So what is Tal'Krovak?" Kath asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"Tal'Krovak was built as a fortress over the Shoggoth's portal to this realm, the walls that still stand today built by those unspeakable horrors."

"What happened to the Shoggoths?"

"It's hard to say," Varg said, "there are almost no records from back then; but it seems that at some point dragons, jackals, wolves, etcetera, were used as slaves by the Shoggoths for thousands of years, until they rebelled."

Kath kept staring at the immense range of stone and snow that provided a backdrop for the whole of the continent for leagues around. She could scarcely imagine what sort of creature could command such strength so as to shape the land so drastically and hold captive the races of the world.

"How did they beat them?" Kath asked.

"They didn't," the dragon said quietly, "The rebelling races were demolished by their former masters. The Paladins and the last of the dragon army marched on the Shoggoth fortress at Tal'Krovak in sheer desperation."

Varg paused, taking his dagger to the deer's flesh to remove a slab of bloody flesh. He stabbed a thick stick through the stringy meat and held it over the fire, listening to the popping fat and dripping grease. Kath followed suit, albeit with a smaller portion of flesh, sitting side by side with the dragon as he continued his story.

"The army survived long enough to breach the walls, giving the Paladins enough time to reach the portal and close it, cutting off their connection to their masters."

Kath looked over in surprise at that, "Their masters?"

Varg nodded, turning the meat over the flame slowly, filling the air with its rich, smoky aroma, "The Shoggoths were themselves little more than peons for something that existed beyond the portal."

"What was it?"

"No one knows," he said, "every Paladin that was involved in the closing of the portal died in madness mere days after the battle."

Both of them sat by the fire in silence after that, watching the meat as it cooked, basking in the mid-morning breeze that worked its way over the plains.

Varg continued in a hushed tone, "The Shoggoths couldn't function without their connection to their master, and died soon afterwards."

He pulled the deer-flesh to his mouth, sniffing the barely-cooked meat before tearing into it, swallowing the bloody meat while Kath looked on with mild distaste.

"Prefer it rare, do you?" she said quietly, focusing on cooking her own slice.

Varg swallowed, sighing contently as his aching belly was filled by the flesh, "It's better when it's bloody."

Using a clawed finger, Varg tore a piece of pink flesh from his slab and offered it to Kath. She flinched away, feeling sickened by the image of that lukewarm flesh sliding down her throat.

"No thanks," she said with a shiver, "I prefer my meat edible."

"Ha," Varg barked as he tossed the meat into his reptilian maw, "some carnivore you are."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Kath demanded.

"Oh, nothing," Varg said, pulling off another piece of meat nonchalantly, "I just assumed that the fierce little jackal willing to threaten a dragon twice her size would be brave enough to stomach a little bit of meat."

Kath punched the dragon, hurting her fist on his stiff, muscular arm, "Oh really?" She said, spurred on by the dragon's teasing, "Give me a piece."

Varg held up his hands in mock defeat, "forget I said anything."

"Shut up and give me the damn deer," Kath demanded, snatching the meat from the dragon's hand with lightning quickness and popping it into her mouth.

She managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds before a look of revulsion overwhelmed her. She began gagging and spit the uncooked meat in the dirt at her side, a growl escaping her lips as Varg began roaring in laughter.

"Shut... up..." she said between fits of gagging, punching the dragon again.

Varg tore off another piece of the flesh and popped it between his teeth, a puff of flame spurting out between his jaws to sear the meat as he swallowed it.

"What kind of animal eats raw meat like that?" Varg said jokingly, "I just cook it on the way down."

Kath stared at the dragon for a few moments as fire licked at his lips, smoke bellowing from his nostrils in time with his quiet chuckling.

Kath dove at the dragon, fists moving at incredible speed as she pounded on the dragon's scales, only further angered by the escalation of his laughter as each blow landed.

"You... son... of... a... bitch!" She screamed as she launched her ineffectual assault against the scaly joker.

Varg eventually calmed his fit of laughter and grabbed the flailing jackal by the back collar of her jacket, hoisting her scrawny form off of him with careless ease. She turned away from him and stomped over to her bag and began stuffing her bedroll into it, anger making her movements jerky and clumsy. She hauled her bag off the ground and strode over to the fire, kicking a pile of dirt into the still-burning pit, reducing it to cinders.

"Hey!" Varg shouted, annoyed as he tried to protect his breakfast from the cloud of dust.

Kath threw her bag into his chest, forcing him to hold the bulky satchel with one arm and his meat with the other.

"For that," she growled, stomping off towards the mountains "You get to carry the bags!"

"Fine," Varg grumbled, shouldering her bag and his own before setting off after her, easy catching up to her with his longer stride.

He took another chunk off of the deer, breathing fire over it, "I can cook while I walk too," he said, smirking as the jackal bit her lip and groaned with seething anger.

"How long to Tal'Krovak?" she asked, voice pained.

"Thirteen hundred miles," Varg said in a cheerful tone.

"Brilliant," Kath said under her breath, "absolutely bloody brilliant."