Ameretat sent us off the next morning with astonishing parting words. If ever you are in great need, call to me and I will come if I am able.

We thanked her profusely and then took to the sky.

That night we were sitting around the fire after dinner and Sylvie brought out the dragon carving. "Today is my birthday, and I would like to give you both this small token of gratitude." She handed it to me.

"First of all, happy birthday," I said, gently bumping into her. My meditation that evening had left me feeling really mellow. "And we're actually supposed to give you gifts, not the other way around." I examined the present, lifelike in its detail. "You know I think it's incredible."

Grim set down his ukulele, reaching for it and I put it into his hand over the flames. "This is quite impressive, thank you." Holy shit, that's some talent, he sent me. Have we ever seen the like?

Not that I'm aware of. 

She pet Feebur in her lap, considering her next words. "When you two found me and saved me, I'd been a captive for seven years, two of them in that cage. Two years, three months, and seven days, to be exact. I'd given up hope of ever escaping. And the only way I could endure it was to make myself a promise." She turned toward me, her eyes meeting mine. "I was leaving that cage by my eighteenth birthday...one way or another."

What she was saying sank in, saddening us and quickening my heart at the thought of her not being here anymore, the thought of us being completely too late. I kissed her hand, turning it over to kiss her palm. "I'm so sorry you went through that, and I only wish we'd come that much sooner." At times I hated the entity or whatever it was that controlled Grim's and my destinations. Why couldn't we have been called to rescue her years earlier?

"You came in time," she said simply. "And so I am here on my eighteenth birthday, and am free to make and give gifts, and I appreciate you both. Not only that but you accepted me into your world, and have made it mine." Pale orange gratitude mixed with the colors of trust, and friendship, and love.

"We are so glad to have you with us," I told her, and truer words were never spoken. "But now I have to make you a cake for your birthday, and I'm guessing you like chocolate best." I could have conjured one up, but it seemed more caring to actually bake it rather than take a short cut. Plus my recipe resulted in the most decadent flourless cake you could ever want.

She grinned. "You guess correctly."

Later we ate cake with a rich ganache frosting and then practiced learning the other's vocabulary until Quincy blessed us with his presence. "Greetings, young Jedis," he intoned. "Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream."

"Welcome back," I told him, shaking my head at his mindless chatter. 

He turned to poke his head under his wing, emerging with a long object in an orange wrapper, and tossed it toward me. "It's peanut butter jelly time, peanut butter jelly time," he said with a little dance, ruffling his feathers.

I picked it up. "Reese's, four peanut butter cups," I read, puzzled as they were too flat to be cups. "Sometimes he brings us things from other worlds," I told Sylvie as I tore the end of the wrapper. "Nice timing for your birthday, certainly."

She patted her stomach. "I'm stuffed but I think I have a little room left." 

I grinned. "Same here." Tilting the package caused one of the treats to slide out, a round chocolate sitting in a pleated black wrapper. I gave it to Sylvie and slid another one out for me before holding the third out to Quincy, skipping over Grimmer and his absurd dislike of chocolate.

"Don't mind if I do," the bird said, taking it in his claw and holding it up to examine it closely. "All third party trademarks remain the property of their respective owners."

I ignored him. "Ready?" I asked, holding mine up until Sylvie did the same. "Go!" We each took a bite at the same time and were not disappointed by the peanut butter and chocolate mixed together.

"Wow, that's delicious," Sylvie said, taking another bite.

"Better you than me," Grim said, making a face. 

"Beans, beans, good for the heart," Quincy said through a mouthful of candy. "Violators will be persecuted."

The following day we were drawn South, and mid-afternoon brought us to a bridge high above a winding river. As we got closer, our reason for being there became crystal clear; someone stood on the railing.

Don't scare them off, I warned Grim needlessly as he landed at the end of the bridge so we could dismount.

I'll stay here like this so if they fall I can get to them in time. That of course made us both think of Zynayda and he winced. Sorry. Good luck.

He also didn't like to have too much to do with suicidal people, after losing his mother the way he had. And he was always afraid he would say the wrong thing with his often filterless mouth.

The skies opened up to release a deluge as we approached the person on the railing. I called out a hello before we got too close so we didn't startle them.

The curly black head swiveled toward us as, revealing a human a few years our junior. They gripped the pole extending up to the higher portion of the structure and appraised us, trembling in the cold. "What do you want?" 

I didn't put up a spell to block the rain from us, not wanting to spook them with magic, but I did surreptitiously direct some of it away. "We're here to help, if you will come down and let us. I'm a healer," I said gently as lightning struck nearby. Sylvie's fingers linked with mine were a welcome grounding technique. Grimmer wasn't the only one afraid of saying the wrong thing.

The stranger laughed bitterly over the rumble of the thunder, swaying toward the water a bit as the wind kicked up. They were barefoot, wearing ragged beige pants and a faded blue tunic that was too large. "Not this kind of healing."

I nodded emphatically. "Yes, this kind of healing," I insisted. "I can't fix your mind. But I can make it better, enough so that you can get more help. Give me a chance, please."

Still they hesitated, and Sylvie took over. "I've been where you are, friend. I know it feels like everything's impossible, like there is no hope." She glanced at me and I squeezed her hand. "But this? This is a permanent solution to what might be a temporary problem, if Lorali can help you to feel better."

Tears flowed down their cheeks. "This isn't temporary!" they shouted hoarsely at us from atop the slippery rail. The sorrow and fear spilled out of them in an aura of grey intermixed with muddy yellow-brown. "I've felt this way for so long, too long. Never enough, always a burden."

This poor kid. I reached out my free hand, needing to help them. "Take my hand, and we'll see you through this. I promise," I coaxed.

The wind gusted again and they lost their footing for a few seconds, their only connection with the bridge being their hands then. They scrambled to get their feet set again as lightning flashed even closer, overlapped by thunder.

This is foolish and dangerous, Grim sent impatiently from where he stood in the rain not far from us. He stamped his foot and we felt it. I am ending it now.

Without further ado he gave the teen a slight mental push, convincing them to come down, and just like that they leaned over to take my hand. Mild as it was, a mind nudge from a dragon left one somewhat dazed, and they docilely allowed us to put a blanket around them. I did put up a spell against the rain then because at this point they wouldn't likely notice, and dried all of our clothing with a touch. No sense them getting sick.

Sylvie looked at me quizzically behind our suddenly cooperative rescuee's head as we walked toward Grim, and then it dawned on her. "This is a case of using his powers of persuasion for good?" she whispered, as we'd discussed when first we met.

"Exactly," I said. He didn't use it often but in some cases it was helpful, especially those of life and death.

Grim lifted off before we got to him. Might as well camp over there, he said of the grove of trees nearby. I'm going to hunt because I'm starving, and I'm too majestic to be starving.

That doesn't even make sense, I sent back, helping the stranger stay on their feet when they stumbled.

Makes sense to me, he replied inanely. Now help the kid.

I hoped I could.