Chapter 19-5

Gritting his teeth against the pain, he picked his way over to his big friend, his broken and torn wings jostling painfully with every step. The griffon, however, was in far worse shape. Blood stained his feathers, and even some of his fur, much of it his own. More blood flowed freely from several large wounds in his chest, wings, and head. While Almonihah could see his chest moving from his breath, it was too rapid and shallow. 

Almonihah swore a bit at some pain in his side... probably just a bruise... as he desperately searched through his pack, hoping that they hadn't broken... There! He pulled a small pouch out and tore it open with his claws, not bothering to untie the top. He'd have to remember to have this more accessible... 

He breathed a short sigh of relief when he saw the three little potion sacks were intact. They were like tiny waterskins, but filled with healing liquids made by the druids that worked with the Rangers. 

“Zakhin'Dakh!” Almonihah shouted... well, said loudly. He'd have to shorten the name for situations like this... Zakh might work, even though he didn't really like the sound of it.

The big griffon opened one eye and chirped weakly.

“Eat this!” Almonihah commanded, holding one of the little potion-skin near his big beak.

Slowly, Zakhin'Dakh opened his beak a bit. Almonihah placed the potion-skin mostly in his beak, with just the stoppered end hanging out. Zakhin'Dakh closed his beak with just enough force to cut through the potion-skin, then swallowed. Almonihah watched anxiously as the flow of blood slowed from his wounds.

“One more,” he whispered, repeating the process. This time the blood was fully stopped, and Zakhin'Dakh's breathing seemed more even. He breathed out a quiet thanks to whoever had come up with these things... and to Naishia, who he was pretty sure must have been keeping an eye out to keep him from getting his friend killed. And himself. 

For the past several years. So why had he been being such an idiot... especially this time? He didn't really want to think about what might have led to this latest incident. Or... well, he didn't want to think about a lot of things just now.

He did, however, need to think about why he was now leaning on Zakhin'Dakh's beak. The big griffon chirped in soft concern.

“Guess I need th' last one...” Almonihah muttered, working the stopper out and drinking the last of the healing potions. He could feel the effects mostly in his wings, and he felt a little less light-headed. Slowly turning around, he saw that he'd trailed blood the whole way from that tree... which was a mess. Yes, apparently there was blood in his wings. Of course. 

He really had been an idiot for the last... quite a while.

Almonihah sat down to rest. Zakhin'Dakh, seeing his friend looking a bit better, screeched sleepily and drifted off. The half-dragon watched carefully, but his breathing stayed steady, and no new blood flowed, so he figured it was best for the big griffon to rest. 

Once he felt up to it, he started setting up something resembling a camp. Sure, there was a big dead dragon in it, and a badly injured griffon sleeping in it, but Zrathanzon had definitely taught him how to make due. He'd also mentioned that you could eat green dragon meat if you cooked it well enough. So Almonihah started a fire, hacked a piece of flesh off the dragon, and started cooking it. He thought back on how stupid he'd been and how he was going to do better as he waited for it to cook.

Fortunately, it didn't get too burnt while he slept.

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Gasp! Almonihah realizing that he needs to change his life! All it took was almost getting his best friend in a long time killed... yeah, nice job, there.