They say that eyes are the windows to the soul.

In a world of buried emotions and jaded people, the eyes were the only thing that completely revealed a person's true nature. Pain, sorrow, anger, pride, joy; all these emotions could be read at a glance by one who could truly understand what goes on behind someone's eyes. Books could be written about the remarkable qualities of the eyes.

Eyes are also a bitch.

Nathan set his pencil down and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Maybe if he rubbed hard enough, the sleepiness would go away. How long had he sat at his desk staring at the beginnings of a portrait? He had an idea of what he wanted for the chin, nose, and face shape, but the eyes were wrong. No matter how he shaped them, how large he made them, or how far apart he spaced them, they just weren't right. What the issue was, however, eluded him.

Nathan sighed as looked around the old barn-turned-studio. Over the years it had filled up with his works, good and bad, old and new, finished or just started. He looked back to the pad of paper with his current bane on it and grimaced. Another to add to the 'to be completed' pile. Great, that was just what he needed.

What he really needed was a break. As the afternoon sun shone through the glass window, lighting the small motes of dust which always seemed to linger in the studio, Nathan made up his mind. He was going to go for a hike. He grabbed one of his spare sketchbooks and another pencil, just in case inspiration hit him out of the blue as it were apt to do, and left his place of work, locking the doors behind him as he did.

The mid-summer sun shined brightly upon him as he took in the sights of his home. Three years and it still took him by surprise that he had come to own the large acreage. A modest house with all the amenities. Imposing coniferous trees surrounded three-quarters of the house. A long winding road started at the front door and traveled for a half mile before it made it to the next house. A two or three acre enclosure for the four horses he cared for to graze as they pleased resided behind the house. They were enough to keep him busy when he wasn't otherwise occupied with his art. He idly rubbed the bright pink tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. And It was enough to keep the thoughts away.

Shaking his head with a small chuckle, Nathan went to his house to pack a bag for the hike. Once he had everything, he went out the back door and made sure that the trough was full. The summer had been hot, and he wasn't sure if the pond farther out still had water. Once he was assured that there was enough water, Nathan slung his bag over his shoulder and walked down the well-walked trail beside his house into the woods.

Already, Nathan was starting to feel better. The knots in his stomach that he barely even noticed he had undid themselves. There was something about the woods that he had always liked. They held a kind of quiet peace that he could never replicate in his home. It was fine by him because it gave him a reason to walk the trails he had memorized years ago, not that he needed one.

After several minutes of silent walking, the trail split into three different paths. Nathan paused to take a drink of water. He knew where the paths led. The leftmost path led to the large pond where he had learned to swim. Thoughts of happier times made him smile. The center path continued on for miles. The rightmost path led to a large open field. It was the field where Nathan usually went when he needed to clear his mind.

And clear his mind is what Nathan intended on doing. He followed the right trail at a leisurely pace. It didn't matter how many times he found himself walking down this path, he loved it every time he did it. There was something nice about taking some time to get away from it all. To leave all worries at home and just unwind. The trees that surrounded the trail gradually became fewer and fewer, and soon, Nathan was out in his clearing.

It really was a beautiful place. After it had become apparent to Nathan that he would continue to come to this field, he put some work into making it his. A path of stepping stones led out from the treeline towards the center. Flowers lined the path: lavender, poppies, daisies. They filled the air with a calming scent. At the end of the path sat a simple wooden bench. Nathan took a deep breath as he slowed his pace. He felt truly at home in this field.

As he sat down on the bench, thoughts of the picture he was struggling with came to mind. The idea for the portrait came to him with a sense of melancholy. Nathan leaned back against the bench. It wasn't often that ideas for pictures came to him with an emotion attached to them. Usually, it was just a flash of insight and an urge to draw. When emotion came with the flashes, the pictures that came from it usually turned out beautifully. He chewed on his cheek in silence.

Perhaps...

Nathan sat up straighter. What if the image itself wasn't the cause of the melancholy, but the idea behind the picture? He pulled his sketchbook from his bag and started a rough sketch of the portrait he had been working on in his studio. Maybe instead of trying to make the subject look sad, he made him look happy? No. Angry? No. Smug? No. Defiant?

Yes!

Nathan let out a laugh as the eyes and expression finally fell into place. The subject was defiant. Now all he needed to do was figure out the scale color. Perhaps black with a pattern of orange “freckle" like scales. As he was turning the page of his sketchbook, he slid his index finger across the edge and cut himself in his haste.

With a hiss of pain, Nathan clenched his hand into a tight fist. After a few moments, he opened his hand and looked at the cut. It ran vertically across the center of his finger. Blood seeped out of the wound and Nathan's heart started beating frantically in his chest. This wasn't good. What if he bled out?

A frown formed on his face at that thought. From a papercut? Not possible. He chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. A bit of pressure on his wound and he'd be fine. He squeezed his hand back into a fist once more and placed his sketchbook back into his bag, which he then picked up and slung over his shoulder. He was halfway to the treeline when his heart started racing again.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and Nathan looked around the clearing. The sun was shining, and a gentle breeze blew through the grass. Everything looked normal. Nothing that would cause his heart to try to escape through his mouth. It was peaceful and quiet.

Quiet.

The clearing was quiet.

Nathan's skin started prickling as he understood what was wrong. It was the middle of summer and there was no sound in the clearing. No birds. No crickets. No croaking of frogs. Nothing. Something was very wrong with the field.

A soundless, concussive force rippled through the air. It rumbled through Nathan's chest and knocked him off his feet. Stars swam in his vision as he stared up into the sky. He groaned as he sat up. His head was pounding hard enough to feel like it would split open. His skin crawled as if he were covered in hundreds of bugs.

It wasn't until Nathan picked himself off the ground that realized that the stars he saw were still in the sky. In the middle of the day. A patch of darkness yawned open against the blue sky. If it weren't for the small twinkling dots of light that flickered across the blackness, it would have looked like something had ripped a hole into the world.

Nathan frowned.

What is that? Is it something that—should I be really be—what if something—what is happening?

The last question was directed at himself. His thoughts were sprinting far ahead while his mind tried to play catch up. Something was very wrong in this field, and Nathan's thoughts were moving a mile a minute, and not anywhere productive.

Something fell out of the darkness. Something big and copper coloured. Something with wings and a tail. It tumbled through the air and crashed onto his bench. The bench exploded. Nathan covered his eyes as shards of wood flew in his direction. Once debris stopped hitting him, he lowered his arm and slowly approached the creature that had just destroyed his bench. It groaned and looked up at Nathan with unfocused eyes. Violet eyes filled with confusion, fear, and pain.

“Asher." It spoke. Its voice feminine and low and gravelly. “Asher, what happened?" It—her eyes rolled up and her head fell forwards.

Nathan stared at the thing—the dragon that had fallen out of the sky and spoke to him. It wasn't possible. A dragon? They didn't exist. And yet, there was one not even five feet away from him unconscious or dead. He continued his approach and noticed that she was still breathing. Okay, not dead, then.

Nathan had the only reasonable reaction that anyone else would have had when faced with the same situation; he started laughing hysterically and passed out.

***

The storm was raging. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. Rain poured. The wind howled. A cacophony of noises and light that Dazinara watched with rapt attention within the warm comfort of her cave. She supposed that she should be sleeping. She glanced back to the still forms of her mother and father farther back in the cave. No. She can sleep later. The storm had rolled in as the sun started to set and she was not going to miss it. She turned back to the mouth of the cave and settled down.

“Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

Dazinara flinched at the voice that spoke from above her. Her tail lashed out and made contact with something. She looked up at the dragon that stood over her. Dark red eyes lit up by the lightning glimmered with amusement. Dazinara batted the blue scaled leg at her side as her father rumbled in amusement. “That's not funny!" She hissed.

His scarred muzzle broke out into a grin.“But I think it is. Isn't that all that matters?" He stepped over her and settled down beside her. “You didn't answer my question."

Dazinara passed a loose pebble from paw to paw as she avoided looking at the blue dragon. “Probably." A flash of lightning followed immediately by a booming crack of thunder drew her attention again to the world outside. “That one was close!" she said, giddiness rising in her stomach again. “Can't I wait till the storm passes?"

“And if the storm doesn't pass until morning, what then?" Her father mused. He had a good point.

“Then I'll sleep then. We won't be going outside much anyways." Dazinara jabbed at the floor with a claw to punctuate her point.

Her father smiled at the rebuttal. “True." He glanced towards the back of the cave. “We were going to surprise you with this, but we decided that you learn what your affinity is tomorrow."

Dazinara jerked her head from the storm to stare at her father, jaw agape. “Really?" When he nodded she leapt to her feet. “Well, what are we doing watching the storm? Come on let's…" She frowned. A flash of lightning lit up the cave wall. Her and her father's shadows were painted against the grey stone. A third shadow. A small swirling circle hung over their heads like a sun that absorbed light. She glanced up, but nothing was there; the shadow only appeared on the wall.

A sharp intake of breath drew her attention to her father. He stared at the shadow, his body tense. His gaze shifted between the wall, Dazinara, her mother, then the mouth of the cave. Dazinara's heart hammered against her chest like it was trying to burst through her ribs. The only time she had seen her father in this state was after the nightmares he had from time to time.

The shadow on the wall had grown larger, almost enveloping her and her father's shadows. As it stretched towards her mother, her father winced and muttered a quick phrase under his breath. She could sense the power building up in the cave before it dispersed abruptly.

The storm outside ended.

Her father uttered a single word.

“Run!"

And she did.

Dazinara ran out of the cave and took to the sky as if her life depended on it. She flew until her wings got tired, and then she flew some more. The sky was brightening as her wings faltered. She lost the rhythm of keeping herself airborne and she started to fall. At this rate, she was going to crash into the ground. All she could do was close her eyes and brace for impact.

***

Dazinara woke with a gasp, struggling to get halfway to her feet before she realized she was awake. Night had fallen and the signs of the storm were nowhere to be found. Good. She took a deep breath, and slowly, the rushing in her ears slowed. She'd have to ask Asher what—

Asher!

The memories of the day rushed back to her all at once. The shadows had come again, but this time they took her. She had fallen through darkness until she ended up here, wherever here was. There was a human around when she landed. Her eyes scanned the clearing, immediately catching sight of the fire that blazed a tail's length away from her.

“You're awake," the human sitting cross-legged beside the fire said simply. The light from the fire and her bleary eyes obscured most of his form, but Dazinara could see that he had a slender frame and a wild mop of hair. His voice sounded young. Something about it made her head hurt.

Dazinara worked her jaw slowly—the dream always made her mouth dry—and replied. “So it seems."

The man giggled and clapped his hands together. “You can talk!" He jumped to his feet and started walking towards her. “And here I was, thinking I was going crazy, well, crazier than," he gestured with both hands towards her. “I can't believe that—" He paused as he caught on to the growling rising in Dazinara's throat. As if she'd let some stranger approach her like that. “That I'm overstepping my boundaries." The man walked backwards until she stopped growling and sat back down. He let out a small chuckle. “Sorry."

Now that he was adjacent to the fire, Dazinara could get a better look at him. He was young. And pale, quite so. If it weren't for the smile on his face, she would have thought him sickly. He had a kind face that reminded her of Asher. A ugly purple bruise marred his left eye.

Dazinara waved a paw at the man. “It's fine. We hardly know each other, do you think I'd let a complete stranger approach me so casually?"

The man nodded. “Fair point. Well, how about I make the first step in us not being strangers." He directed a hand towards his chest. “My name is Nathan. May I ask you yours?"

Dazinara smiled. “You may, but I hardly know you enough to give you my name. You can, however, call me Iridescent Whisper."

“Iridescent Whisper." Nathan repeated. “That's a mouthful, innit? Would you mind terribly if I shortened it down to Whisper?|"

The corner of Dazinara's mouth tugged up as she looked at Nathan. “What if I said yes? If my title being shortened town to Whisper offended me greatly? What would you do, then?"

Nathan blinked. “Then I'd apologise, then. I am sorry—wait. Are you being sarcastic?"

“That surprises you?" Dazinara grinned at the man.

Nathan ran his hands through his hair. “Honestly, a lot of things have surprised me today. Seeing the night sky in the middle of the day; a dragon falling out of said night sky; said dragon speaking and falling unconscious; getting hit in the face with a tail while trying to stop the unconscious dragon's wound from bleeding. I've had a crazy day, I guess I should stop being surprised."

At the mention of her wound, Dazinara glanced back at the cut given to her. It had been bandaged up. As she reached for the bandage Nathan's voice stalled her paw. “Wait wait wait. It took forever to stop your bleeding, I don't want it to start again."

She looked back at Nathan, who had stood up with his arms stretched out towards her, and quirked a brow. “How is that supposed to stop me from doing whatever I want?" She lowered her foreleg and offered him a smile. “Thank you for patching me up."

Nathan stared nervously at her smile and sat back down. “So many teeth…" he muttered before laughing. “Unreal."

Dazinara rose to her feet and padded slowly towards Nathan, meeting his eyes with her own. “You've never seen a dragon before?"

Nathan paled slightly before answering. “I-I'm pretty sure nobody's ever seen a dragon before. They don't exist."

What a strange sense of humor. Dazinara snorted in amusement, but as she stared at Nathan, her humor faded. “What do you mean, don't exist?"

Nathan raised his hands with his palms out. “Up until now, they were creatures of fantasy. Stories told to children, in books, but never in real life. Even now I'm doubting whether or not what I'm seeing is real."

Dazinara sat back on her haunches and stared at the human. Dragons don't exist? What strange place was she in? How would she get back? So many thoughts raced through her head as she tried to make sense of everything. She could feel a headache starting to form behind her eyes.

“You've been unconscious for several hours now. You're probably quite thirsty and hungry, aren't you." Nathan voice cut through her thoughts, making her uncomfortably aware of her hunger and thirst.

She took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, then released it in a huff. “Yes, thank you for bringing those two wonderful feelings to my attention."

“Hey, dehydration and hunger are serious issues. Especially considering your size. You can probably down close to ten gallons of water a day, can't you?"

“What" Dazinara frowned at Nathan. “I do not take note of how much water I can drink in a day. You brought the subject of water and food up. Am I to believe that you have access to both?"

Nathan nodded. “I do." He stood up and grabbed bucket of water that he had sitting next to the crackling fire. He dumped the water onto the fire and made sure it was out before beckoning Dazinara to follow him. 

“Come with me, I can get you plenty of water and probably scrounge up enough food to satisfy you for the time being."

Dazinara followed behind the human. In a place where dragons didn't exist, this man was her only ally in a world vastly different than her own.