Shaky breaths were all Jack knew; the otherwise stoic man now reminded of his own mortality as he hung over the edge of an icy cliff, the still hooded guide grasping painfully tight onto his arm, the only reason Jack hasn’t fallen to his crashing death yet. Through the rage of the blizzard, Jack could hear the roar of an ice dragon, fierce and piercing.



    Something crashed into the guide, and Jack’s heart stopped for a brief moment. Everything went still in his mind as he accepted his fate. His arm suddenly snapped taut as the guide himself was now hanging from the glacier with one hand digging into the edge, the other holding Jack.



    If it were not for his imminent peril, Jack would’ve been very impressed at this man’s display of strength as he swayed back and forth, frost biting at his nose. Where the guide’s hand was digging was soon engulfed by the massive claw of an ice dragon, their serpentine head peering down at the both of them.



    The dragon snorted, blowing freezing breath across the both of them as amusement glinted in their eyes. As Jack stared upward, he knew that this beast was intelligent. Calculating. And that, more than anything, frightened him.



    His entire life lived under the assumption dragons were merely mindless predators, only using basic tactics for hunting their prey. But here one was, calculating intelligence staring down upon his punitive form. The guide grunted, and Jack felt him pull on his arm, beginning to swing him back and forth.


    Before he could react, the guide tossed Jack over the Glacier edge, tumbling him into the snow, surprising both him and the dragon. Rolling around trying to get back onto his feet, Jack witnessed as the hooded guide lost their grip on the edge, hidden eyes twinkling as they fell downwards into the area below, wind whistling, hood and cloak snapping.



    Despite the roar of the blizzard, the world felt silent as the man fell beyond sight. The dragon was taken aback, just staring down the edge, unsure how to react. They seemed to have entirely forgotten about Jack. The white-scaled dragon whipped their head towards him as soon as he thought that.



    But they didn’t have much time to react before an even more enormous ice dragon swooped over from the glacier edge, landing atop the smaller one. What Jack witnessed was a bloody, gruesome, and violent fight between two giants.



    However, like the creeping cold, the new, larger dragon overtook the smaller one eventually. The victorious dragon stood panting, wounds all over, blue blood trickling and gushing. As they turned to face the bewildered Jack, they winced as they twisted a quaint silver ring upon their claw.



    Jack found himself gazing at the bloodied, but still hooded guide in a blink.





    The campfire crackled as Jack and the guide, whose name he learned to be simply Scav, sipped at bitter hot drinks from clay mugs. The blizzard died down at this point, and Jack never said a word about the earlier incident. Over the fire, cuts of dragon meat sizzled, speared through with an iron rod Scav had stored somewhere.



    As the meat cooked, Scav would occasionally sprinkle various spices over it. The aroma was quite enticing, but Jack was having mixed thoughts on eating what he learned to be an intelligent creature. Those same qualms didn’t bother Scav as he merely ate the meat once it was done cooking, not even waiting for it to cool.



    As Scav chewed, he spoke through a full mouth.



    “You can help yourself to some of it, you know.”



    Feeling it was rude to ignore the invitation despite his own feelings on the source of the meal, he tentatively grabbed a still-hot piece off the iron stake. Meat juice stained into the gloves he wore, but he ignored it. Waiting for the icy air to cool the cut, Jack finally took a bite.



    It was good. Great even- but different. There was no other taste to quite describe to someone who never had it. His own subtle hunger caused him to gobble it up, and he found himself reaching for another piece even as a minor sense of guilt plagued him.



    After eating a third piece, Jack finally spook up;



    “Does it not bother you?”



    “Hmm?”



    “The meat, does it not bother you?”



    “Why would it?”



    “Well, uh-” Jack found himself lost for the right words.



    “If you’re about to ask me if I’m some sort of cannibal, I’m not. I’m not a dragon, not anymore. Just like you, now.”



    Being completely honest with himself, Jack didn’t even think about if Scav was a cannibal. He was more hung up over the fact he was consuming the flesh of an intelligent creature. Jack wasn’t going to ask more, but Scav still opened up to him.



    “I am- was an animus. What dragons would call those with wish making powers. I myself was an anomaly. An animus Icewing? But the bloodline was dead, thanks to Foeslayer and Darkstalker. Or so we thought, until I came around. My parents tried to hide me away, hide what I was away. Lest the First Circle snatch me up to do their bidding as some sort of magic mindless pet,” Scav spat out the last part before continuing, Jack listening in rapt interest.



    “In the end, it grew to be too much. Despite what they said, it was obvious my parents had some expectations of me. So I did it. I used my Big Wish and turned myself into a scaveng- human, to escape it. Am I a coward? Perhaps. A disappointment? Definitely. But I found myself happy for the first time in my life. Content.”



    Scav paused, ever twinkling eyes glazed over in reminiscence.



    “I found a small group of nomads that wandered the ice and snow. They took me in as if I was their own. Taught me how to properly be human. They never did question my past, and I remain thankful for that. Maybe they already knew. They were a special group, and I never did find another quite like them. Well, here I am now, guiding those across these frozen lands.”



    Jack slowly nodded. In all truth, this left him with more questions than answers, but he went with it. If it was not for the earlier incident, Jack would’ve found these the rambling of a mad man. After the retelling of his life synopsis, Scav fell silent, finding it unnecessary to say more.



    So both sat there, fire crackling and meal eaten. It was a companionable silence. In it, Jack decided on his one question.



    “Did you have a different name back then?”



    Scav’s head craned upwards to stare at him, his ever-present hood shrouding his features. He held Jack’s gaze for a moment before finally answering.



    “Yes. But I’ve forgotten it. No need to dwell upon a lost past.”



    With those words, Scav the human stared back at the fire. Jack remained silent this time. No more was needed to be asked.