John hardly cares for the promised wealth and glory.

They would rip off your scales. Sell them as a posh trinket. Or put you on display as a rare, mythical creature, for their own benefit.

Or they'd do much worse.

He's a quartermaster on this ship, and will surely pay a heavy price if he helps you. But this? Capturing a creature that has done him no harm? He never signed up for this.

"Be quiet," he whispers, holding you in his arms. The sharp scales of your tail dig into his skin—but he doesn't care. He has to get you out of the ship before the others notice your disappearance. "I'll set you free, I promise."