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Tonight is going to be a bad night, Lance told himself. The storms had been particularly treacherous this winter, lashing the earth and covering it in such deep mounds of snow that even in his dragon form he struggled to walk in it. This might be the worst storm Yngrail has seen in a long time.
As a dragon, Lance had no need for anything other than a nice supply of meat to feast on until the weather cleared up and he could return to the skies to hunt. Yet despite that, he still had torn down trees for a collection of firewood. Staying in one form too long was like an incessant itch in the middle of his spine that he could not scratch, driving him crazy until he gave in and transformed.
Hunkering down in his cave, far enough back that the snow had no chance of reaching him, Lance curled into a ball and slept.
An indeterminable amount of time had passed before the echoing slap of approaching footsteps awoke him. Lance lifted his head, blinking sleep from his eyes, and peered out. His vision slowly adjusted to the darkness, and that’s when Lance saw him.
A human. And an ill-dressed one at that.
In direct contrast to the howling winds thick with snow behind him, the man was dressed in tattered rags. The shirt was held up by the barest seams over his shoulders, and he’d tied his fraying pants with rope to keep them from sagging off his frame. His shoes were worn through until they were more hole than shoe, leaving his toes exposed to the elements. The man shivered so hard his breath was a long, continuous moan of pain.
Lance uncurled from his position on the floor and stood, looming over the man as he crept closer to get a better look. So wrapped up in his misfortune, the man didn’t notice Lance’s approach until he was within striking distance.
The man screamed and tripped over his own feet, landing heavily on his backside. Eyes blown wide with terror, he scrambled backward as best he could. But Lance kept pace easily, stalking him, curious to know more about the ragged man.
“Please!” the man cried. “Please, don’t eat me!”
Lance would have snorted if his dragon physiology allowed for it; there wasn’t enough meat on the man’s bones to make a decent meal of.
“I—I don’t even taste good! Please! I-I just…it’s so cold out there, and I have no place to go—but I can leave if you wish! I didn’t mean to come into your territory; I had no idea this was your cave.”
I’ve had enough fun, thought Lance, who was beginning to feel the twinges of guilt down in his gut. Really, scaring such a pitiful creature was beneath him. He transformed.
“Relax,” said Lance, kneeling in front of the gobsmacked man, “I have enough food in storage as it is. Eating you would bring me no joy; you’re so bony you might crack my teeth.”
From down at this angle, Lance could get a better read of the man. Poverty had struck him hard, and if he was skinny from Lance’s vantage as a dragon, he was downright starved from down here. How the man had managed to stand upright and walk was beyond him; he had never seen a man so thin. His skin was as pale as the moon to the point of near translucency. His hair was turning white, his eyes were bloodshot…No, Lance could not bring himself to harm him in any way. It would take a cruelty he simply did not possess.
“Wh-wh…I…” The man’s jaw was unhinged in confusion, exhaustion, and remnants of terror. Just as Lance went to reach out for him, it all caught up to the man, and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. He was unconscious before his head hit the ground.
“Oh, dear,” thought Lance. “It’s a good thing I collected all that firewood, then.”
Getting a fire going was no big deal. Arrange the firewood accordingly, then partially transform to breathe a bit of fire on it to set the wood alight. Easy. What was a little worrying was that the man hadn’t moved an inch the whole time.
“Hello?” Lance crept up to the man and nudged him in the side with his foot. “Are you dead? Hello?”
He kept nudging, increasing his strength until he was near kicking the man until he got a garbled groan in return. The man’s face scrunched up in disgruntlement, his hand twitching like he’d slap Lance if he had the strength for it.
“Well, you’re not dead at least,” Lance muttered. “You better appreciate what I’m doing for you.”
Now that he had a fire and confirmation he wasn’t sharing the cave with a corpse, he decided to cook some food. Not only was he starving, but the man had to be ravenous. There was enough food to last beyond the winter, so when he pulled out several skinned chickens, which was more than he’d ever cook at one time, he wasn’t concerned that he’d run out.
He roasted the chickens over the fire, the alluring scent filling the cave and worsening his hunger. Eventually, as the skin began to brown as it was turned over on the spit, the man began to rouse.
“Good,” said Lance. “I was going to wake you soon. The food is almost cooked.”
“Food?” The man perked up. With as much strength as a man weak from starvation possessed he pushed himself upright, holding his head as he was no doubt visited by a dizzy spell. “There’s food?”
“Of course,” said Lance.
“And I am allowed to have some?”
“Part of the reason why I cooked it,” said Lance, having a feeling that there was more to the man’s surprise than he was letting on.
“…who do you want me to kill?”
Lance blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me? Kill? Don’t insult me. If I wanted something killed, I would do it myself. I am a dragon after all.”
Glum, the man stood, his fingers went to the rope holding his ratty trousers up. “I see.”
The trousers fell down his thin legs and showing off his soft cock. Then the man reached up to pull off his shirt. It was almost entirely off, exposing the gross way his ribs protruded through his skin, when Lance finally got his wits about him.
“What are you doing?!”
The man jumped. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, why are you taking your clothes off to eat?”
“I…I am repaying you? For the food?”
Lance’s eyes bulged. “I do not require repayment, especially not of that kind. Put your clothes back on.” He turned his attention back to the chicken, his ears feeling hotter than usual. “By all the stars…”
The man put his clothes on and sat back down. “A-are you sure you don’t want repayment?”
“I don’t know the things you have seen or been through, but nobody trades sexual favours for food. Or demands an assassination.” Lance shook his head. This man was more than just a misfortunate traveller. He had seen the scars littering the man’s pale skin. “What is your name?”
“Takashi Shirogane,” the man whispered. He drew his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knees. “But everyone calls me ‘Shiro’.”
The chicken was ready. Taking it off the spit, Lance ripped it in two and gave Shiro the largest half. Shiro snatched it away from him in an instant, shoving it into his face despite its heat.
“My name is Lance,” said Lance, eating his own half of the chicken at a much more sedate pace. “You are welcome to stay in my cave as long as you wish. I’ll keep you warm.”