Unlike humans, dragons didn’t sing for merriment or pleasure. A dragon’s song was a thing of mourning, of sorrow and surrender.

Tandy’s lungs burned. His legs were numb, clumsy things beneath him each with a mind of their own. They carried him down a steep hill, toward the distant wailing dragon song. Screeches and roars could be heard overhead, call signs shouted by others in his clan over the commotion. An attack by a dragon hunter clan had everyone in the skies scattering. Dragon riders were largely unarmed, and dragons were largely unequipped for non-areal combat. A stray arrow from a hunter on a distant outcropping of cliffs struck Plum between her wing and her stomach, one of the few soft spots on a dragon. Tandy wished he could forget the pitiable roar that erupted from his mount on impact. Her wing buckled, sending them both hurtling to the ground far too fast. The rider felt his pulse jump, the sweat on his brow flew off in the wind while he clutched to Plum as tightly as he could. It was the most helpless he’d ever felt in his life.

The fall, although far too fast, was agonizingly long. To know your impact was imminent, ever approaching and inevitable yet not being granted the mercy of feeling it immediately upon that revelation was gut-wrenching. As the pair neared the ground, Tandy’s hand rubbed idle circles against Plum’s glittering golden scales. He felt strangely content in that moment. At ease by the feeling of her scales beneath his palm and the wind whipping in his face. He could almost imagine they were flying instead of falling, like it was any other day and not the precious final moments shared between a mount and her rider.

Then suddenly, and without command from him, Plum did a barrel roll. Tandy was forced to hold tighter to his mount, and shout over the wind.

“What are you doing?!”

Plum let out a roar, before choking out just two words: “Let go!” Tandy’s common sense balked at the idea. The only thing more terrifying than plummeting to your death on a dragon’s back, was being in complete and utter free fall. But there was no common sense in riding dragons. It was something that every rider notably lacked. Something distinctly wrong with their brains that lead them to want to mount and bond with ancient and powerful beasts. And his bond with Plum meant he acted before he could even think to argue. He let go of her, shooting off in another direction as she rolled again. The maneuver sent him hurtling into trees instead of the rock they were headed for, only somewhat dampening his impact – which still came with one too many wretched cracking sounds. But he was alive.

Tandy’s sorry attempts at ambulating stopped when he reached a cave, which was the apparent source of the dragon song he’d been following. It was a small space, one too cramped for a dragon in its beast form. And when he peered down into the cave depths, Tandy spotted two figures packed together on the mossy floor. A rider scout, their blue cloak now a rich and wet magenta was in your arms as you sang. Tears streamed down your flushed human cheeks, your wings curled around you both as you sniffled and struggled to croak out your melody. Tandy had hoped to find Plum. That the song was that of his own dragon. But instead he found you. Riderless, mourning, and terrified.

He slid down the steep rock face of the cave interior, wincing as he hit the bottom with an undignified crunch. Crouching down before you, Tandy held out a hand in invitation.

“I’m Tandy,” his voice was soft. “I lost my mount just as you have lost your rider. I know you’re scared, but we can make it out of here together.”

His offer hung in the slice that remained after your singing ceased, and he could now hear the thrum of his heartbeat more clearly than the battle going on overhead.