Chapter Text
The smell of dragon blood was heavy and potent on the wind, and not any kind of dragon blood, but the blood of hatchlings, carrying with it the waking realization of young and protect. Zula immediately banked to the right, her calm content of a successful hunt and full belly vanishing as she headed towards the smell, mounting fury and worry scorching up in her chest. The blood smelled fresh though and that cautioned her, especially when she couldn't find traces of an adult dragon anywhere, no blood and no roars echoing through the air. She was close to an area along the coast where no other dragon had recently nested or laid eggs and there really shouldn't have been any hatchlings, especially without their mother. No respectable dragon would have left their babies alone.
Zula heard the faint sound of a second pair of wings appear somewhere to her left, but it was farther off and not fast enough to belong to an enraged, grieving mother coming to avenge her young. It could, however, be Zula's friend Tyra, who she had spotted in the distance a little bit ago and who was probably now dropping by since they were both in the same area. Tyra tended to leave her territory for bits of time and visit Zula's if they hadn't seen each other in a while.
Zula scanned the ground, eyes slightly narrowed and nose scenting. There. She spotted a clearing with a large and still wet pool on the ground and what looked like pieces of the hatchlings. Caved in sculls, torn off claws, pieces of tail and chunks of flesh that looked carved from shoulders and ribs, mixed in with the white glint of broken bone poking out. Someone had hacked the babies apart. A growl curled out between Zula's teeth as she circled the area once. Nothing looked alive, but whatever had killed the young of one of her kind, it couldn't be far. The blood was far too fresh.
Grimly, a part of her wondered which dragon must have died for the young to end up here and slaughtered. Would she find out one of her friends had been killed recently and the babies kidnapped? Or would she hear of the mother or sister of a friend being hunted and murdered and their children stolen?
With a snarl pulling back her lips and smoke billowing between her teeth, she landed on the ground, feeling it shake and rumble beneath her. Trees of the surrounding forest bent and the thin ones even breaking beneath the beat of her wings. Zula didn't bother with being quiet. For one, there was no stealthing as a dragon, and two, she wanted those foul people to know she was there. For only people killed hatchlings.
Only people killed dragons. Another dragon would never hurt their kind. Would never hurt the young of another. In the past maybe, but nowadays they were far too damn few to fight amongst themselves. If anything, dragons were helping each other survive if they got the chance.
Digging her claws into the ground, Zula sharply glared around, waiting to hear the shout for attacks, the thud of tiny, running feet and the rattle of armor and chainmail. She waited for the crackle of magic, the scent of it, anything to tell her where to lunge, who to kill to avenge the broken and torn children. She couldn't scent properly over the cloying smell of blood, so hearing and sight would have to guide her. Vaguely, Zula was aware of the soft wing-beat of Tyra flying closer and picking up speed now, since she most likely also scented the blood of killed young in the air. Her friend would arrive soon.
The snap of wood breaking drew her attention and Zula stepped forward, snapping out to bite through the trees. She ended with a mouthful of splintering trunks, but there, yes. Finally. Someone was cowering on the ground. One person wasn't enough to have killed the babies, but attacking them might draw out the others. She inhaled, ready to spit fire and took another step forward.
All around her, people rapidly broke out between trees and sprang forth from bushes, arms lifted and staffs clutched in hands. Fucking mages. Zula was about to lash out, tail swishing in a deadly arc, when suddenly, symbols began to glow beneath the blood and her movements slowed and grew heavy, her limbs unwieldy. Chanting rose, the voices at first shaky and then growing in strength and the blood of the hatchlings seemed to get sucked into the symbols, turning them an eerie red.
Zula's mind grew numb, her body too hard to control now and she felt herself crash to the ground, limbs akimbo and nose digging uncomfortably into the ground. Even her tongue and lungs felt like they hardly moved and the building fire in her chest died out in a plume of smoke that escaped from between her teeth.
One of the people stepped forward, a pale man with long brown hair and a triumphant gleam in his eyes that made him look near manic. The chanting grew louder and Zula's eyes fell closed as her mind became entirely blank. She then felt the way her bones began to crack and her skin started to split. A painful pull seemed to drag all through the entirety of her body, like one big seizing of her muscles, robbing her of air.
Everything stopped making sense for a timeless moment, as her body started to shift and shrink, as her scales slipped beneath skin, her tail disappeared and her claws changed, as her snout shrank and her horns pulled into her temples. Her legs seemed to bend and shift, her forelegs to shrink and her spine cracked and reformed as it warped, her wings folding to sink into her shoulders. The fire that had always lived in her chest shrank and dimmed and for a cold, terrible second, she feared it would disappear entirely. In the end, it banked down to a tiny, single ember that glowed weakly.
When Zula managed to open her eye again, everything was suddenly big around her. The trees, the people, even the stones littered around her. Before her was an arm, stretched out and with scarred skin and five fingers that ended in clawed tips. It took her a long second to realize the arm was attached to her. For a moment, it felt as though her mind simply refused to work. It rejected what she saw, until the realization forced its way through.
Gone were the tough, red and gold scales. Gone were the wicked, big claws. Only the scars seemed to have transferred. She was no longer a dragon. She had been turned into a person.
"Yes, yes!" The man before her, most likely the leader, screamed and around him, the other mages whooped. "Look at you," he crooned at her, grinning so wide it must have hurt his cheeks. He was clothed in ostentatious robes with gold trimming and elaborate embroidered symbols and Zula could smell the jewelry on him, the gold and gems.
"We really did it!" A woman cheered from the side and Zula could only stare at the man in front of her, struggling to breathe and wrap her mind around the fact that she was in a body that didn't belong to her.
She tried to move, only to realize that her whole body felt heavy and ached in dull pain, though it was fading slowly. Her limbs felt odd and she was caught in a mixture of wanting to scream and wanting to tear the man apart. Her senses at least were still the same, sharp as before, but her teeth were blunted to pitiful fangs and her clawed hands could barely be called claws at all.
"Hm, not absolutely everything turned entirely human," the man said, eyeing her hands as she struggled to get up, only to find that her balance was off kilter. "Let's see what else is different."
He was about to reach for her, magic crackling at the top of his staff, when Zula, panicking in a way she hadn't in a long while, opened her mouth and shrieked at him. For a lurching, horrified second she was terrified it wouldn't work, but when she watched him stop and sway in place, clearly stunned and dazed, she felt shaky with relief. A furious roar from above shook the trees in the next second.
"Dragon!" Someone shouted and Zula couldn't help but release a call to her friend, relief and rage curling through her chest.
Tyra descended upon the clearing in all her silver and ice-blue scaled, thunderous glory. The mages scattered, yelling and screaming and Zula heard them shout that they hadn't expected for another dragon to be nearby and that they couldn't perform another ritual. Thunder struck the ground as Tyra released her breath, tail lashing out to flatten a mage into the ground and wings half unfolded in a unspoken, threatening warning.
Zula met Tyra's eye, calling out in the language of dragons that it was her and she saw her friend's eye widen. Tyra rumbled, angry and furious and worried for her.
Half the mages were killed while the rest managed to escape. Tyra didn't chase them the way she usually would have, instead she remained crouched over Zula, snarling and warning everything away. It was then that Zula realized just how big her friend was. As a dragon, Zula had actually been a tad bigger compared to her friend, but now that she was people-sized, Tyra was massive.
"Zula." Tyra's voice rumbled so strongly the ground beneath Zula's bare back vibrated. Her friend shifted to peer down at her, a low hum of confusion and worry thrumming through the air. Tyra's tail lashed in agitation and she kept her body angled to silently warn any approaching creature that she would attack if anyone dared to come too close.
Zula finally managed to sit up and with her fading adrenaline, she started to shiver. She stared down at herself, skin smeared with dirt and she numbly looked at her scarred legs and belly. Hair tumbled down her shoulders and brushed her skin and covered her neck. It was the strangest, alien sensation. She reached a trembling hand up and lightly, hesitantly, patted rough fingertips over her face. A mournful, pained sound escaped her when she felt nothing familiar and she folded into herself, doing her best to keep breathing through her tight chest and painfully racing heart and the fury scorching her veins along with a terror that seemed intent on making her ribs cave.
The ground shook and a second later, she found herself encircled by her friend. Tyra carefully wrapped a clawed hand around her and pressed her close against a massive, scaled chest. Tyra hummed, reassuring and promising to help, not moving until Zula stopped shaking and gasping as though she was drowning and choking at the same time. When Zula dared another glance at herself, she realized she had clawed at her skin and broke it in places, beads of blood trailing over her skin.
Grabbing a scale of her friend's hide, Zula slowly dragged herself upright. At least how she gripped things was still mostly the same, even if the fifth finger was weird and there was an unexpected mobility to the digits. Everything was weird and wrong and the flames in her chest were nearly gone and her wings were entirely gone. Zula carefully breathed through a new wave of overwhelming emotions and kept the panic and desperate, hurting fury simmering low.
"It will probably fade soon," Tyra rumbled as she watched Zula take a shaky step while she still held onto one of the scales. Tyra sounded worried, though and Zula couldn't help but think that...it probably wouldn't be that easy. Not with how many hatchlings had been sacrificed to whatever magic had been forced upon her.
But no, that wasn't what she was going to focus on now. She wasn't going to think about this too closely, lest she dissolve into helpless, keening fear and useless anger again. Neither emotion helped right now.
It took ages, until Zula figured out how to walk while holding onto something and Tyra patiently laid beside her, watching out and offering help when needed. In the end, the last of the adrenaline had faded and Zula was exhausted.
"Let me take you to your den," Tyra rumbled when the sun started to sink and Zula started to shiver to the point where her teeth chattered. That had never happened before. Zula's fire had always kept her warm. Her scales had always kept her protected from the elements, even when she had gone up far, far north to visit her mother. Zula had taken dives in the icy ocean and had been fine.
She didn't protest though, when Tyra carefully picked her up and twisted to set her down on her back. Her friend waited until Zula managed to find a safe position and then took flight. Zula felt her shoulders shift slightly on instinct, as though she tried to use now nonexistent wings. Her mind skittered away from that thought. Among all things, Zula loved flying the most. Her wings and her flames were the most important parts of herself. And now one was gone and the other almost extinguished.
Tyra left the coast behind and soared over the waves, the scent of fish and salt and algae bright and familiar in the air. Zula watched, as a while later, her island came into view. People had never come there before, the sea was too wild for their boats and the reefs and jutting rocks tended to sink what boats the sea hadn't ripped down before. But it was the perfect home for a dragon, especially with cliffs rising around two thirds of the island and encircling it to form the most wonderful bowl-ish shape to nestle into.
Tyra landed swiftly and curled up to keep Zula as protected from the wind as possible, once Zula was back on the ground. Stumbling around on the soft, fine sand with her friend's support, Zula looked for her treasures. She was too cold and her skin and body seemed to grow ever colder still. Zula had kept all kinds of things and soon, she found some of those clothes that people wore. It took her a while to figure out how to wear the damned things and it felt constricting and awful and...she took a couple of deep breaths. Zula grabbed some of the white furs she had because she had liked the color and curled up, exhausted and cold, pressed against Tyra.
"It will be better in the morning," Tyra rumbled, head lifted as she scented the air. No one would come here and the place still smelled strongly of herself, but Zula could admit that it still reassured her to see her friend on the lookout. Her body forcefully being changed against her will and into something so utterly foreign...it had rattled her, badly. Still rattled her. Nothing about herself was as it should be.
Zula curled up tighter beneath the furs and she felt so miserable, she couldn't even enjoy the way the fur felt. She had never felt something so soft, but the sensation paled compared to how absolutely, terrifyingly wrong everything else was. Nothing about her was right anymore.
~*~
"We need to find a mage," Tyra said as she watched Zula climb around the den. "You'll have to keep secret who you truly are, though."
Zula wasn't sure how many days had passed since she had been turned. She usually didn't bother with counting those, the seasons guided her along with the sun or moon, helping her decide on whether or not she hunted and where she would find food.
Enough time had passed though, that she stopped panicking at everything strange with her new body and she could now move around nearly as well as any earth-bound person could.
Tyra and Zula had tried everything they could think of. At first, they had waited to see if the magic would simply wear off. Tyra had hunted for them and told other dragons she met what had happened, so they knew of Zula's current disposition and to watch out for similar traps laid by people. The last thing either of them wanted was for more of their kind to end up turned into people, and worst of all, to get captured.
After a period of waiting and nothing changing, Tyra had brought all kinds of things to Zula's den, from the blood of a giant to herbs found only at a fire spewing mounting. Nothing had worked or helped. Even other dragons had dropped by to bring things to try and undo the magic and that had brought no changes either. Zula wondered how long it would take before her mother caught wind of things and would fly down from her icy domain. A while, the north was far away and Zula's mother preferred to mostly keep to herself, only talking to her closest friends every couple of months and her only surviving daughter once a year.
Zula sighed and stopped sorting through another pile of her treasures. She knew her friend was right. Staying here didn't change anything. Zula only got more miserable and if she was honest, she started to become bad company too. Zula wasn't use to being cooped up and helpless. As a dragon, whenever she hadn't slept, she had been out and about. Hunting, checking in on other dragons that she knew and collecting treasures. She had her lazy times, sure, but never for so long.
"I know." Zula sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. At least her face was no longer as startling as before. And she had figured out how to care for all the weird hair as well, so it was clean and she didn't start to smell bad. "Where do we find a mage?"
Tyra drummed her talons on the sand for a moment, the tip of her tail flicking in thought and her head tilted slightly at an angle to silently request some patience. Zula, robbed of many ways to bodily communicate, had started to vocalize more to make up for it. It made her down-right chatty nowadays.
Finally, Tyra sighed and low noise of unhappiness slipped escaped her. "We'll have to look for people. And you'll have to ask them, they should know where mages are."
Zula had, if she was honest, already suspected as much. Dragons had no mages, only people did and they had the information Zula needed. At least she had enough gold to pay people for things - or, that was what she thought. As much as she hated parting with her stuff, she vaguely knew the concept of bounties and payment and whatnot, so gold was what she'd need.
"There is a coastal town," Zula said after a moment of silently chewing through her reluctance and general desire to stay away from people. Far away.
People hated dragons, that was no secret. They attacked in groups and murdered and slaughtered everything from hatchlings to younglings to adult dragons. They butchered their corpses to pull flesh and bone and skin apart and take all that, as though they hadn't just killed and then destroyed the body of a beloved friend, a dear daughter or a caring mother. People mounted severed heads on castle walls and celebrated the kills as though they hadn't caused deep grief and pain. She'd never forget the day she passed by a castle only to spot the head of her last remaining sister, eyes dull and tongue lolling out of her open maw in a grotesque masquerade of a smile.
Zula herself had fought numerous battles over the years of her life. Twice she had almost been killed and her body carried the scars to show it. She knew that the deep scar on her face was one of the more prominent ones, drawing across her right brow, barely missing her eye and continuing down her cheek, kissing the corner of her mouth and dipping past her jaw to her throat.
The battleaxe that had hit her head twice in rapid succession had almost taken out her eye back then and had left her disorientated enough that the warriors had gotten a few bad hits at her throat in, nearly killing her, which had left her with the second worst scar on her body, a gruesome, warped thing following the line of her throat.
The rest of her scars centered around her arms and legs and on her belly up to the swell of her chest. There was only a single scar on her back, since people usually didn't manage to get that high up with their attacks, but a strong mage had been particularly inventive and lucky, leaving her with a gash right beside her wing and a broken shoulder blade. It had been agony to fly home with that, but staying would have been a death sentence.
Zula was, therefore, more than wary of people. She didn't quite hate them, she wasn't foolish enough to hate entire races for the acts of some warriors and mages, though if she was being honest, a part of her was angry at all of them anyway. She did, however, absolutely hate those that hunted dragons and killed them . Zula had helped other dragons in the past, had breathed flame and fury on those who tried to kill her kind. She had bitten and chewed and even swallowed people to keep them from murdering anyone else. She had been too late too, and could do nothing but chase them away from the corpse before they could tear into it like ravenous crows.
The thought of seeking people out willingly, of needing their help was...discomfiting at best. On the other hand, Zula didn't know what other choice she had. It would be dangerous, no doubt about that and no one could ever find out what she truly was until she was transformed back. However, maybe she could find a mage, throw enough gold at them to make them agree with helping her and once she was back to being a dragon, she could fly off before people killed her.
"I'll take you to the town," Tyra said. "Let me know when you want to leave."
Zula sighed and stared up at the sky. Oh, how she longed to fly. It was becoming rather painful that she couldn't, an ache that ate through her heart and left her restless at night and morose during the day. A dragon was meant for the air, a dragon was meant to soar amongst the clouds, ride the winds and be unbound. She was currently nothing of that.
"Let me get some things and then we leave right away," Zula decided and briefly closed her eyes. "I loathe being like this."
Tyra waited silently as Zula started to pick things out of her treasures. Zula packed a change of clothes and a pouch of her gold, as well as gloves to hide her claws, since people didn't have those. She tried out a few different pieces of armor, only to realize that most of it didn't really fit or was just cumbersome or restricting in movement. In the end, she settled on a mixture of a gambeson and pieces of metal armor, both fitting well enough to neither be clunky nor too tight. And because she could and had seen a lot of people wear weapons, she strapped a sword to her side. The buckles and belt took a bit of figuring out, but in the end, it at least looked like it had on warriors she fought. Mostly. Kind of.
At last she shouldered a sturdy leather backpack. Zula had actually kept that on a whim and she was all the more glad for it now. Ensuring she had everything she thought she needed, Zula clambered up Tyra's back. Her friend held still until she sat comfortably and at Zula's call, Tyra unfolded her wings. The pang of envy and pained longing was expected by now and Zula closed her eyes when her friend pushed off the ground. At least she could still enjoy the rushing wind.
Tyra soared over the ocean, which was as choppy and wild as usual. The waves smoothed out the farther they went from Zula's island and soon they became calm, the ocean glittering in the morning sun as though countless silver coins were bobbing at the surface. Zula didn't know how long it took to reach shore again, but she spotted the harbor town easily enough once they arrived. Her sight was thankfully still the same as when she'd been a dragon, well, as long as she was somewhere high up. People really didn't have great vantage points while standing on the ground. Tyra landed briefly in the forest close to the town, just long enough for Zula to slide down to the ground.
"Be careful," Tyra said, dipping down her head to give Zula the gentlest of friendly nudges. It still almost knocked her off her feet. "If anything happens, I'll stay close to the shore for a few days. Call for me, and I'll come. Afterwards, I'll head to my den, you know where it is and you can reach it easier than if I were to wait at your island."
"I'll find you, should I need you," Zula promised and she hoped that she wouldn't end up dead within a handful of days. "Be careful as well."
Tyra pushed back off the ground and Zula had to quickly brace herself, before she could be blown off her feet. She had never quite realized just how powerful dragon wings felt for something people-sized. Turning towards the town, she swallowed her misgiving and worry and tried to put on a friendly face. Taking a calming and bracing breath, she headed down the hill and through the trees. By the Sun, hopefully she wouldn't come to regret this.
Her legs carried her steadily enough by now, even if walking on the forest floor was a new experience and by the time she arrived, the people milling about looked as though they had somewhat calmed from the fear and shock of having a dragon fly overhead and land nearby, however briefly. Zula was wary and careful as she entered the town and kept an eye out with every step. She had no idea who to approach or who to talk to. If she was honest, she wasn't even entirely sure how well she could speak one of the people languages.
Zula knew a good number of words, considering she had been harried by people ever since she had left her mother's den as a youngling. The language most commonly used was the one she knew best. Zula also knew bits of the other languages humans spoke and some phrases in dwarvish and elfish and some words of the qunari. Or rather, she could curse a lot in those languages and yell out ways to attack. Hopefully she could communicate things well enough.
Zula had never known how people acted when they weren't screaming bloody murder and tried to hack her to pieces or were running in fear, so she just watched the comings and goings for a few long moments. They were just so...strange and yet kind of mundane, once they stopped muttering worriedly and staring warily up at the sky.
She was still wary and careful in her approach when she finally decided to get it over with and ask for help. People seemed to figure out what she wanted even with her limited vocabulary and after she shook some coin at a particularly thoughtful human, she finally managed to find her way to an office of rangers.
"You need a mage?" The leader asked, eyebrows rising in surprise. He had braided black hair and clean shaven features and stood nearly a head taller than she did. "What for, if you don't mind me asking? Mages aren't exactly...you know."
Zula actually didn't know, but she couldn't very well say it. She was worried enough about coming off as too weird and non-people-y already. Her stomach tightened uncomfortably at the thought of someone, somehow, figuring out the truth, as impossible as it may sound. As a person, she didn't know how well she could defend herself, even with the pitiful claws she had and her shriek. A mob now attacking could be certain death. Shit, a single warrior right now might even do her in.
"I got in trouble with magic, I have questions," she said, a bit haltingly to ensure she got the words out somewhat correctly. She had never spoken a people-language before being changed, dragon throats weren't exactly made to replicate that kind of speech. If Zula was honest, human throats had a surprising capability of making a variety sounds, she could still speak dragon like before after all.
The ranger hummed and eyed her for a moment. "Well, unfortunately, things have gone pretty sour recently. With that tear in the sky and the rebellion of the mages on top of that. I think your best chances at this point are to head up to the Inquisition at this point and ask around for help with magic there. I wouldn't trust most circles these days and while the Inquisition is still establishing itself, they have the Herald of Andraste, things will be fine up there and with them."
Zula blinked for a second and realized that, while she understood most-ish of the words, she had absolutely no idea what the man had just said. Her expression must have given away how lost she was, since the ranger's face softened a bit.
"Look, if you need help from a mage, it's best to wait a bit, alright? If it's not something that is a live or die situation, let the mess with the rebellion settle down and wait for the move of the Inquisition." He nodded at her sword. "Are you any good with that? We could always use an extra pair of hands."
Zula briefly felt numb all over. Wait. She had to wait, that much she had clearly understood. She looked down at her sword. "I don't know how to use it." She frowned. "And I want a mage."
The ranger looked thoughtful and sighed softly. "How about this then, stranger. There is going to be a caravan coming through in a week and they'll head up to the Inquisition. I put in a good word and you can join them and until then, you help out us rangers. Maybe get some training in and help us look after the people here."
Zula had less than none interest in keeping people safe, but she frustratingly also had no other options. At least, not now. If someone offered something better, she'd fuck off without a backwards glance. And maybe, until she could leave or something happened, she could learn some things.
Zula didn't even know what he meant by circle, after all. Oh, she knew what a circle was, round thing and all, but the way he talked about it, it seemed to be a Thing and not a shape. And, as begrudgingly as that admission was, she needed to know how to fight in this body at least a little bit and how to speak their language better. Like this, Zula couldn't very well hope that her pitiful claws and tiny fangs would be enough should she get into trouble.
"Yes," she agreed reluctantly.
The man smiled and reached out a hand. "Great, I'm Ellion."
"Zula," she answered and stared at his hand in confusion. Ellion looked just as confused briefly, before he appeared considering.
"We shake hands here," he said. "As an agreement, sometimes as a greeting, to show we're friendly."
Warily, Zula reached out. She had never touched a person before without intending to kill them or at least chase them off. And even then she had either bitten down on them or clawed at them. Not gripped them. His hand was callused and strong as he took hers and moved it up and down. He blinked in surprise when she squeezed back carefully. He gave a low whistle.
"Nice grip, alright. I think you'd make a wonderful ranger with enough training." He gave her a toothy, lopsided grin, his face lighting up and looking a lot friendlier than before. Huh. Handshakes really were something. "Maybe you'll change your mind and stay. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others. You're not from around here, are you?"
Well, she kind of was, but she couldn't really tell him that. "No."
"I thought as much. Well, welcome to our humble town, Zula. I'll show you around town later too, if you want. Don't worry, we'll make sure you'll feel at home however long you're here."
Unlikely, but so far, things had gone better than expected. She wasn't dead, yet, after all.
~*~
The week turned into two, after some trouble with bandits that most of the rangers left to help out with, though Zula stayed behind simply because she wasn't ready to fight yet. Which was a little galling on one side, because she damn well knew how to fight, just not in this body, but mostly she didn't care much. She wasn't one of them, she wasn't a human or dwarf or elf or qunari and none of them had ever helped her kind, that much was for sure.
Still, in the two weeks leading to her departure, she learned a great many things. She learnt for one that her body was tougher than she had expected at first, at least compared with other humans. She bled less easily and her bones were sturdier and she healed swifter. And two, while she wasn't faster, but she could jump higher and farther and drop from greater heights without getting hurt.
And three, Zula learnt that she was stronger than most people as well and that she could carry greater weights without much trouble. She was absolutely shit at stealth though, and Ellion spent long hours after dinner teaching her how to move carefully and what to watch out for so her feet would be quiet in the forest. She refused to use her shriek even once, for worry of tipping them off and she tried to be more subtle with how good her ears and nose were, though she feared she was failing hard on that front. There were only so many times she could hide the way she scented the air for prey, after all.
Four, and completely unrelated to her physical self, she was more than surprised that out of this whole mess, one good thing emerged. The food. Zula had never eaten so many amazing things as during her two weeks with the rangers and they claimed it was just simple stuff, that other places had better things. It seemed unreal.
The fish stew was an experience, the boar, cooked and seasoned, was the best meat she had ever eaten in her entire life. And cheese. Cheese was amazing. It was a bit amusing to the rangers as well, whenever they didn't look weirdly sad when they gave her something new to try. Which was everything. Apples too, she never had apples and the small fruit was a delight and even biting into an uncooked carrot was such a new and interesting taste and sensation. Crunchy, almost like bone and yet not at all.
Zula was glad to find she picked up on the people language well enough, so she at least progressed bit by bit on that front. Her sword fighting, according to Ellion, still needed work, but he said she made up what finesse she lacked with brute strength. And she lacked a lot of finesse, she barely managed to not mess up her footwork most days.
Most of all, Zula learned that people were fucking weird. She kept stumbling from social mistake to social mistake and her confusion remained ever present, as did her frustration. People made so many things so complicated and even with a slightly better grasp of their language, she sure as fuck didn't understand some of their motives and actions any better than before. By now, Zula was certain she had insulted or offended, however involuntarily, most people she met.
"You," Ellion told her the evening before her departure, after steering her away from a fight that nearly broke out with a drunk man. "Are a troublemaker."
It took a long explanation for Zula to understand just what he meant with that. Oh, she knew the term troublemaker, but it confused her. She had always been respectful before, like all dragons were amongst each other. No intruding on dens without invitation, no stealing another's things and if a dragon asked for help, she had always readily given it. And she had never been rude before either.
"Just, don't get angry that quickly, alright?" Ellion told her, after trying to explain that her staring had pissed off the drunk man. "And don't look at people for too long. It's rude. And try to be a bit more calm, no one here wants to hurt you."
Zula didn't know how to explain to him that she was just watching. She just wanted to understand. She also didn't know how to tell him that anger was necessary for survival as a dragon. Especially around people. Anger was better than fear, anger meant she could act and wasn't frozen in place.
Always choose anger, her mother had told her many times when she had been young, especially after her elder sister had been killed a few short weeks after leaving the den to set out and find her own territory. It will keep you more alive than being afraid if you cannot run. So be furious and stay alive.
"Yeah, the staring is kind of weird." One of the other rangers, Carry piped in. When Zula looked at her, Carry made a face and shrugged. "I mean, it feels kind of...aggressive? I don't know, you're just so focused, sometimes I'm not even sure if you're blinking. It's fine out in the field, you know? But in town you can tone it down." Carry gave her a smile. "We're all friendly here."
People, Zula decided with a mental, aggrieved sigh, were and would forever remain, weird as fuck. Their seemingly endless rules were exhausting and she was glad whenever she could stick to the woods and stay away from town. She still wasn't used to people, still watched for the blade that would strike, for the voice that would scream 'dragon!' when she least expected it. Zula never truly felt safe, for she wasn't. Not among people who would murder her the second they would find out what she truly was.
If she was honest, she was tense all the time and tired because of it as well. It slowly shredded her already waned patience, made her more short tempered than she usually was and she still felt wrong all over in this body, so that didn't improve anything either. She probably would be less prone to attracting trouble if she didn't feel as if she had to be ready for a fight every second she spent around people.
But, alright, no fights. It was easier said and done, but Zula would figure out a way to stare a little less openly.
Then, finally, came the morning the caravan would arrive and Ellion left early to arrange things for her. Which was probably for the best, considering Zula had, according to a disgruntled fisher, 'the graces of a rabid bear'. Whatever that meant.
"The Inquisitor might side with the mages in this fight, since she is one," Ellion told her after returning from successful talks with the caravan head. "I think if you go to Haven, you have good chances finding a mage willing and capable of helping you. Timothy said they'll take you all the way to Haven, but if you can actually talk to someone is something you'll have to figure out on your own." He made an apologetic face. "Sorry, I can help you around here, but my word means nothing to the Inquisition."
"It's fine," Zula said and begrudgingly tipped her head in acknowledgement. Ellion had never once lied to her and shown a great deal of patience dealing with her grumpy ass. "Thank you, your help...helped a lot."
He chuckled softly and gave her a pat on the shoulder, making her startle slightly. No one had touched her, aside from two, overly friendly drunks who had learned swiftly that she had no qualms throwing them into walls with all the pent-up frustration and worried anger that simmered low in her gut. "You're not half bad. I wish you safe travels and if you ever change your mind or need a place, you're welcome to join us."
Unlikely, but it was a...kind offer. Kinder than she had expected from people. "Take care."
"Take care as well, Maker be with you."
Timothy, the caravan head, was a balding, short man with a jovial attitude and a great many words spilling out of him, the same way she had seen grain spill out of a ripped bag a few days ago, the farmer cursing so creatively, she had learned a few more words. She was allowed to sit up front on the wagon with him, which the oxen barely tolerated. They warily settled after Timothy soothed them and he offered her a quick smile.
"Apologies, don't know what got into them, usually they're so calm and good." He spoke swiftly, as though he had found the best way to cram the most words into the shortest time frame. "So, to Haven, eh? Can't say it surprises me, lots of people are signing up for the Inquisition these days, want to fight the demons that are popping up everywhere and I mean, Commander Cullen is partly responsible for the pull as well, man has a reputation, let me tell you.
Zula settled back, slowly getting used to the bumpy ride and let the words wash over her, only half paying attention. Mostly because there were still a lot of words that made no sense to her and partly because the size of the oxen was baffling. They were usually so tiny when she was a dragon, a nice meal to be gobbled up in a bite or two. Now they looked big enough to eat her.
Timothy was more than happy to fill the silence between them and as long as Zula occasionally glanced at him, he seemed more than encouraged enough to go on. He also, to her quiet, begrudging relief, had the habit of explaining things if she seemed even vaguely confused. Timothy certainly made her understanding of his language grow, not batting an eye when she finally caved and asked what certain words or things meant.
The rest of the traders were equally happy to chat and they loved to tell stories, especially once they realized she knew none of their tales. They accepted her vague explanation that she wasn't from around here and launched into happy, detailed recounting of the things they knew, be it local legends, rumors about royalty and whatnot.
It was vaguely interesting in a way, Zula had never known just how creative people could be, or what sort of stories they made up for the stars and stones and whatever else. Or how interested they were in the lives of people they never met but apparently heard a lot about. It certainly helped pass the time and helped her understand the people around her a little bit better. It helped distract her too at least a bit, from how wrong everything felt to her, from her lacking wings to her nearly gone flames to just...everything.
The further they traveled, the more Zula came to know and see of the land that she had never seen this close up. Usually, if she traveled through this area, she was high up enough in the sky that everything looked very, very tiny and clouds were hiding her presence.
It got colder too, the further they traveled and soon she had to switch her clothes to something warmer, pulling out the cloak Ellion had given her as a parting gift. Zula didn't know how to feel about him and the rangers. They had been...kind to her. Helpful and friendly. She had never known people could be almost...nice to be around. At the same time, she had kept herself from growing too close to them. It wouldn't do, for her to get attached only to find them attacking her sometime down the road once she was a dragon again.
And finally, Haven came into view, a place high up in the mountains where frost and snow covered the ground and tinged the air with their scent, pine mixing into it. The place was nothing like the villages Zula had seen along the way, or the burnt down husk they had passed, having just barely avoided a battle between mages and templars. She even knew what a templar was now, even if she didn't entirely grasp the concept.
The traders dropped her off once they were past the gates and Timothy gave her cheerful directions to get signed up in the Inquisition. Zula didn't bother with correcting him, but was glad for a bit of information on how to navigate this place, full of foreign smells and warriors that set her teeth on edge.
"You take care now," Timothy said in parting and Zula blinked as he pressed a small bag into her hands and he smiled, warm and kind, laugh lines crinkling the corner of his eyes. "For being such good company. I know we, and especially I, can be chatty and for all your surliness, you've been good to us. Even saved us from that bear."
Which hadn't been hard. Apparently Zula still smelled dangerous, because the bear that had lumbered up to the sleeping camp, the guard shouting in warning, had taken a whiff of her as she had gotten up, being closest as she had slept at the edges of camp, and had swiftly retreated again. The traders had thought Zula had done something to chase him off and she hadn't bothered to correct them.
"It's not much," Timothy said, gesturing at the bag. "But we all wanted to leave you with a little something, make your time here easier. Come find us if you need anything, yeah? Or just want to be around some nice faces. We're going to stay here around two weeks before we head out again."
"Thank you," Zula said slowly, unsure what else to do, but it seemed to be enough. Timothy gently clapped her on the shoulder and then turned around to help everyone with getting ready to present their wares, sending a young boy to run up to the Herald and inform her of all the nice goods his people and he had brought.
Zula turned away and warily eyed her surroundings. So many warriors and almost everyone looked armed. Ah shit. This was going to be a nightmare. Unless she found a mage right away, in which case, she'd have to book a real fast escape the second she got turned back, or she was dead. Her next thought brought her up short. What if she was disorientated after transforming back, like she had been when shoved into her current body? If that might be the case, it would be best to lure the mage away, somehow.
Taking a deep, bracing breath, Zula turned towards the large building up on the hill. The main Inquisition was said to be up there and surely a mage would be too. Or someone who knew where she could find a mage.
Wandering up the path, she encountered her first problem in the form of a warrior getting up from where he had lounged, eating what looked like bread.
"You heading anywhere?" he asked, confidence in his swaggering posture and Zula immediately had to stomp down the urge to bare her teeth at him. Somehow, whenever she had met people like him, which had thankfully been far and few between, she got even prissier than she usually was. Which was saying a lot, because this whole situation she was in was turning her into her worst self.
"Looking for a mage," she answered anyway, because posturing or not, if the guy could help her along, she was more than willing to be civil.
The man snorted. "Yeah, right. Try again, want to sign up for the army, right?" He lifted his chin, all proud and smirking. Weirdly, in this moment, he reminded Zula of a particularly unpleasant dragon she had met once, who had thought himself the pinnacle of creation and that she should be ever so grateful that he was willing to mate with her. Which, yeah, no. She had unceremoniously dunked him into the nearby lake and had flown off, leaving him huffing and sulking.
"Sure," she ended up saying with a sigh, because at this point she was willing to agree to whatever and lie as much as needed to get the results she wanted. Which was to just find a Sun damned mage. Why was this so hard?
"I knew it." He snapped his fingers as though he had been particularly clever and then imperiously gestured at her to follow him. "This way, little duckling, or you'll get lost."
Rolling her eyes, she fell in step with him, casting a wary eye about, but no one else paid her much attention, especially once they saw that she was already being accompanied. Still, being around warriors, letting one walk with her so casually, made her skin crawl. Which was a very, very strange sensation in this body, this weird tickle-shiver as all the tiny hairs stood on end in warning. This body was so, so weird and she was so, so ready to be rid of it.
"I am Terris, by the way, who are you?"
"None of your business." She had heard people use that phrase before and found it suited this conversation very well.
The guy frowned heavily now, a near scowl appearing on his face. "No need to be fucking rude."
She bit back a heaving, frustrated sigh. Rude, apparently she was rude again. Whatever. "Where are the mages?"
Terris rolled his eyes. "There are no fucking mages, alright?" he told her, his previous somewhat-friendliness entirely slipping away. "Aside from the Herald of course or whoever else she drags up here, but don't fucking bother. Now, here." He stopped in front of a tent and gave her a shove that surprised her enough that she stumbled a few steps, whipping around and just barely, by the skin of her teeth, keeping from snarling. "Now get signed up, asshole."
She swallowed down the insult that wanted to tumble out in response. There was no way she was a match for him if he took offense to the point of confrontation, not even with Ellion teaching her a few things and how to mostly hit the training dummies well. She had no allies here either, if she pissed this guy off and he had friends backing him up, she might as well do herself a favor and find a cliff to dive off of.
"Can I help you?" a cool though not unfriendly voice asked and she turned around to see a woman standing behind a ramshackle desk, papers surrounding her and inched back, as though to avoid snow falling on them.
"I want to see a mage," Zula said, because someone in this cesspit had to tell her where she could find one.
The woman sighed. "The Herald is a busy woman, as are her compatriots. Here, sign up and join the cause. If you don't I'll have to ask you to leave, we do not have the means of feeding freeloaders."
Zula had no idea what that last word meant, but she understood well enough that she would be kicked out without signing. She stared down at the page of paper the woman had set down and the numerous squiggly lines.
"I can't read."
"Most people can't, just sign here." The woman tapped a bit of free space. "Know how to spell your name?"
Zula accepted the quill the woman handed her and just squiggled some lines herself. The woman glanced at the paper and sighed.
"What's your name?" she asked and Zula answered, watching as the woman scratched out her squiggles and made new ones. "Thank you for joining the Inquisition. Please head to Commander Cullen to get assigned for training."
With those words, the woman got up and grabbed some bundles from behind her, handing those to Zula. "You'll be assigned a tent as well, thank you for fighting for our cause."
"Who is Commander Cullen?" Zula asked after mulling through the woman's words, glad that she understood the language better now and at least wasn't entirely lost during this one-sided exchange.
The woman blinked in surprise, pausing from where she had sorted Zula's page into a stack of other pages with squiggles on them.
"Tall man, blond with fur around the shoulders, wears gleaming silver armor and commands everyone, he's hard to miss and others will tell you where to find him if he isn't training the recruits."
That sounded doable enough. "What about a mage, though?"
The woman sighed, aggrieved now and Zula wondered how she managed to offend a second person within a short conversation. "If you work well enough, you can ask for a meeting with the Herald, alright? But don't get your hopes up, she's a very busy woman. Now go."
That was far from ideal, but Zula had at least managed to find a mage, from the sounds of it. Reluctantly, she pulled back and started looking for this Commander Cullen. If she was to stay here, she couldn't get kicked out, as much as it rankled her to stay among people and especially, among warriors. Sun be good, hopefully she'd survive this.