His leathery stomach ached as Zilmiel sprinted between the trees along the site perimeter. That damn gunshot REALLY stung despite his ice breath cushioning the blow, but the ingredients used to make an analgesic ointment sat sealed away inside the cupboards back home in La'marri. He would need to bear the pain for the time being...

"Hey! I think I've heard something over here!"

A shout came from the farm clearing: Five to eight pairs of footsteps converged towards the wood where Zilmiel hunched over a fallen log.

Damn!

Zilmiel picked up the pace as he turned away from the clearing, crushing a half-rotten log beneath his left foot that rang into the clearing no doubt. His folded wings took a slight beating too as they brushed past and broke smaller branches protruding from the nearby pine. Still, Zilmiel managed through his aches and took cover behind an older pine tree in the partial darkness, his wings concealed by the shade while he glimpsed around the tree towards where he'd hidden himself seconds ago...

"Damn it, Malkev, you're jumping at ghosts again! There's nothing- wait, what-"

The men's shouting reduced to whispers the dragon-alchemist barely heard over the wind. He took several steps backwards, watching where his clawed feet fell to avoid snapping another branch or otherwise alerting the nearby squad to his location.

"Malkev, get to the Sergeant, double-time. There's something in the woods that shouldn't be. Finding out who lives here can wait, but we need Aidyn the Tracker over here. Every one else, stay close: Do not wander into the brush."

"On it, sir."

Zilmiel crouched low to the ground behind another tree, his attention focused upon the brush concealing the men from himself just twenty meters away. Bandits were easy to dispatch; one man with a frozen head later, and they usually dispersed. But from what he'd heard about Connlaothian soldiers, it would take much more to terrify an entire platoon into retreat: He could not transform, but he could-

"One second... I need to take a leak-"

The man's turned head as he popped through the brush spurred an immediate response: One second later, multiple shouts broke the forest's silence as an ice spike encased their comrade's head, pinning the lifeless body against a tree. Followed by another ice spike and then the cries of Zilmiel's third target as razor-sharp claws tore through a pikeman's torso, revealing the half-ice dragon's form to the now-terrified soldier whose fingers fumbled over his crossbow before a final bolt of ice tore through his face. Zilmiel turned tail, lightheaded and nauseous as he dipped behind another line of trees to leave behind the opening carnage.

Take your time, DragonSong! We will be here when you return. :)

Did he ask too soon? Keema licked her front left paw, happily nestled on top of Zilmiel's head while Kora watched below. The bluer teacup dragon peeped again, stepping onto the counter and slowly reaching to sniff Zilmiel's left claws. Zilmiel did not say anything immediately, instead giving Kora's crest a gentle rub. Kora recoiled, but only by a half centimeter before she pressed her crest into Zilmiel's finger. Kora exhaled a smaller but none less vibrant plume of blue smoke before she curled next to Zilmiel's hand for a nap.

"I'm sorry if I asked too early, but... this is the first time my appearance has not scared off such friendly creatures. Canines and cats avoid me even when I try to reduce my stature." Zilmiel sighed. Keema's eyes were also closed like Kora's as the teacup dragon fell asleep upon Zilmiel's head. "Please do not rush the process for me. I do travel no less than once every three months while Emelys watches the place. If these creatures bond strongly with only one caregiver, I will have to find a way to bring them with me whenever I fly. I have also had to venture into Connlaothian ruins, for example, in order to obtain fungi, and I am well aware of the dangers getting entangled with their lot... Maybe I have to reconsider."

It was best to be honest, he'd figure, especially seeing how quickly Keema made a perch out of her half-dragon-tree who gently stroked her sister's upper back behind the crest. Kora peeped quietly, tucking her feathered tail around herself for warmth.

Zilmiel's stomach ached, though whether from hunger or the impact from the ice shield, he knew not. The nearest buck hid from sight, but a tree climb, several jumps, and well-aimed ice bolt from Zilmiel's mouth would score the first kill of the evening... that was, until the combination of steel, sweat, and shit tainted the air from behind him.

Shit!

Had an army group tracked him specifically? If so, how did he not sniff their odors before he had landed... They had to have concealed their scents wading in the glacial streams, a clever tactic indeed for sneaking up on dragons and their lesser ilk. He could freeze and slaughter three, four, or five soldiers without issue. But thirty or sixty? His half-dragon carcass would be butchered and consumed, his scales and thickened skin rendered into replacement belts and dragonscale armor, and his head and wings sold to some Uthlyn noble looking for something mountable above his gilded throne. But if they had "guns" of their own, even several blasts of ice could not stop a lucky headshot from halting his escape. He needed a headcount, and for that Zilmiel spared the buck its life, sprinting perpendicular to its position in a clockwise path towards the new arrivals along the concealing brush.

"Do drakarys micro creatures- I mean, what sorts of social activities do they enjoy the most with their caregivers?" Zilmiel asked, wiping the knife  clean with the washrag before placing it on the shelf before the display case's doors. "They are most certainly empathetic, I agree. I wonder if-"

Keema finished her second apple slice, dropping the seeds on top of her growing pile. The teacup dragon stretched her forelimbs onto the counter before doing a quick hop. Kora watched cautiously before joining her sister, sniffing the two stacks of apple seeds once she landed before the blue-feathered dragon watched her sister grasp towards Zilmiel's leathery torso with outstretched paws. Three rings of periwinkle smoke rose until Zilmiel extended his arm slowly. Keema churred happily, gripping Zilmiel's hand and climbing the half-dragon's arm like a tree branch. Emelys suppressed a laugh as Keema considered her current position, tilting her head up at Zilmiel.

"I..." Zilmiel stopped himself, confused. Keema scaled Zilmiel's back and neck, yet he did not appear to react in pain due to her claws as Keema popped her head over Zilmiel's, rubbing her crest against his right horn. He smiled, reaching above his head to lightly rub Keema's crest as well. The green-crested dragon churred, letting out another triumphant puff of bluish smoke. "Where was I? Ah- I was wondering whether I might qualify to adopt drakarys micro creatures."

"I make promises, not threats."

With those words, Zilmiel beat his wings, hard. He sneezed at the same moment as a torrent of ice escaped his nostrils, forming a cone shielding his chest as he launched into the sky. Whether he'd heard the gun fire or not, Zilmiel didn't know as adrenaline surged through his body. He soared past the woman's cabin and field before landing feet first near the opposite property line. That was when something ached, but a cursory glance at his navel did not show any blood nor gore. Instead, a chunk of ice stuck to his thickened hide, glinting with the metallic remnants of whatever came out of that "gun," if he'd heard the lady right, and a quick swipe with his claws peppered the soil with buckshot and slush. A gnarly bruise was forming where his ice cone absorbed the gun's kinetic energy and slammed into his tummy.

Not wishing another gunshot injury, Zilmiel darted behind the trees before him, concealing his prominent stature behind the brush. The grazing deer were much closer, perhaps as little as two hundred meters away, and their scents' strengths matched the profile of three juvenile bucks and an adult mating pair. If that damn woman was going to be stubborn, then fine: He would just have to settle for air-dropping four of the catches on top of her hovel's roof.

"My kind? MY kind? If I want to, I can freeze you solid into an icy stalagmite right now..." More ice crystals surrounded Zilmiel's nose with another deep breath, his icy blue eyes watching the growling dog in their peripheral vision. "Be reasonable and let me fix my erroneous judgement. The fact both you and your bitch are still breathing despite your insult should be enough. Put that thing down if you will."

From his previous breath, the deer were starting to wander away from the clearing, though their scents continued wafting into the area. Did he lose his temper for a second? He did, yes, especially when a human said "your kind" when referring to the former full elf, yet his stomach sank when he made his threat.

Kora and Keema continued to snack on their apple slices, peeping approvingly at their crispness. Zilmiel began cutting the second apple into halves as he spoke. "What are the qualifications for adopting these drakarys micro creatures? I imagine they need a lot of outdoor space at various times of day for exercise."

Keema finished his apple slice first. The teacup dragon churred at Zilmiel, letting out another loving plume of periwinkle smoke when the dragon dropped the bundle of seeds not onto the floor, but instead neatly onto the counter to the half-dragon's amazement. Keema eagerly took another apple slice from the counter before Kora followed in kind.

"I'm starting to see why adopting out teacup dragons can be problematic. They will happily take on the habits of their caregivers, it seems, including problematic ones. The messy caregiver will blame the dragons for their own messes and abandon them. On the other hand, a caregiver who is neat and orderly will find their little dragons to be clean and not cause messes," Emelys interrupted, wrapping another pair of vibrant healing potions together with silver binding ribbons when her eyes lingered on the growing apple pit pile. "It must be hard finding people who live healthy lifestyles if that is the deciding factor. "

"Well observed, Emelys," Zilmiel praised, holding out another apple slice for Kora who churred before taking it into her clawed digits.

Annoyance crept into Zilmiel's heart: What did this woman not understand about dragons and starvation? Just what kind of brute did this woman think-

"As I said... I lost control to my starvation. If you will let me make things right, you will have enough animal flesh to last a week, I will have a full belly, and I might just let you keep a gold coin or two as interest. However, you better put that damn thing down." Zilmiel took a deep breath and exhaled, surrounding his nostrils with ice crystals and a tiny plume of fog. "I do not like having weapons pointed at me, if that's not obvious."

By his rough count, five separate notes of game now met his receptors from past the woman's back, downhill among the brush. Piercing blue draconic eyes bored into the woman's head. "Will you let me help you?"

"That's great to hear!" Emelys cheered quietly as she opened one of the drawers. "Master Zilmiel, which knife?"

"The shallow-serrated one." The half-dragon responded, tilting his head curiously at Meeka's green-streaked sibling named Keema. "It is a pleasure to meet little Keema and Kora. Keema- this is Keema- sounds like she's hungry." Taking the knife Emelys laid on the counter, Zilmiel cut the first apple in halves, then quarters and finally eighths. He pinched the first apple slice and carefully extended his offering to the now-placated Keema, who eagerly snatched and bit into her apple slice. Kora watched her sister snack on the fruit before she squeaked again, lifting her head and standing on the basket's edge as well. Zilmiel took another apple slice and held it out to Kora, who took it in her mouth and began nibbling it in her basket. Keema let out a vibrant plume of periwinkle smoke.

"I think Keema thanked me for giving her apple slice. You said drakarys micro mimics the appearance of those they like?" Zilmiel asked, extending his  clawed fingers holding a third apple slice to Meeka who stirred in his nap. "What will you do with Meeka, Keema, and Kora once Meeka's feeling better, if I may ask?"

"Come in, Caliope! Master Zilmiel told me you'd be here first thing in the morning." Emelys's voice broke the shop's morning silence. The assistant alchemist could not contain her smile at the sight of Caliope's two basket dragons, but Caliope's chest bundle made her snap her smile away. "I see you've brought back Meeka and what appear to be his siblings? How is little Meeka doing?" Emelys asked, replacing an exhausted candle with a new one in its brass holder; from her angle, she could not tell whether Meeka was napping or wide awake. "I know the potion causes drowsiness from what I remembered helping my boss last year with his cold. The final four doses should cause less drowsiness-"

"Emelys, is that Cali? I mean, Caliope?" A voice called from the closed door behind Emelys.

"Yes boss! Caliope has also brought in two more teacup dragons!"

"Splendid."

The door opened moments later to Zilmiel's half-draconic form clutching two apples between his claws. Emelys stepped right to give Zilmiel's wings and tail clearance when the latter closed the door behind him and laid out three apples. "Welcome back, Cali. I-"

Zilmiel's eyes relaxed when he saw the two dragons snuggling together in the basket. "- I hope Meeka has taken well to the medication? May I also ask for the names of those two dragons?"

"Have you seen half-dragons wandering the streets in Connlaoth?" A hint of annoyance emerged in Zilmiel's voice. "I have flown for days and got stuck waiting on a caravan to leave so I could leave the area! Listen: I- I lost control and smelled your roast, but I can fix this... if you will let me."

The gamey aroma of grazing deer rejoined the smoke and cooked flesh reaching the half-dragon's nostrils; from its intensity and adjusted wind direction, something delectable hid among the brush just a half kilometer upwind. "In fact, I already smell an actual creature," he started, keeping the woman's trigger-happy fingers in his peripheral vision with his eyes staring again into the stranger's direction. "Let me help you, and I might even chuck in an extra two heads of deer."

Zilmiel listened while wiping one measuring glass clean. "It sounds like you have your work cut out for you, trying to figure out how to accommodate the new wyrmlings on their way as well as trying to stop the trade. How are Meeka's siblings doing?" The dirty washrag hung from its hook above the basin again after Zilmiel returned the clean measuring glass in its cupboard. The door opened behind Zilmiel before Emelys ducked underneath his wings.

"Master Zilmiel, the potions are ready for shipment tomorrow, and I have made a good head start on the ointments," Emelys reported, rubbing a bead of sweat from her face before she stared at Meeka for a second. A look of pleasant surprise came over her face, startled at the young dragon's renewed health. "H-how'd it go, boss?"

"Better than expected, Emelys. Our customer here has the doses her dragon needs, but we will need to plant more roots and Niahiweed cuttings. We may have to replicate the potion I ordered for my sickness months ago, if you know what I mean..." Zilmiel replied, closing his eyes. Emelys opened her mouth but didn't speak, passing through the counter turnstile as she smiled at Zilmiel and the woman.

"Why, that's wonderful! I will see you tomorrow, Master."

The front door shut behind Emelys as the woman descended the stoop, leaving Zilmiel alone with Caliope and Meeka. He returned his attention to the same peppermint-y spot Emelys scrubbed vigorously three hours earlier. "Hm... Smells like I owe my apprentice an apology. I spilled a drop of peppermint extract- anyway, be sure to give Meeka his second dose from the half-empty bottle tonight. Give him the first half of the second bottle tomorrow morning, stop by here, and feel free to bring El, Zyn, Tam, or any other dragon with you. I am intrigued by these tiny dragons, Caliope," Zilmiel admitted, his eyes lingering on Meeka before he turned to face the door behind him. "I wish Meeka a solid recovery, gods willing."

"The potion was due to expire soon anyways. I mean- okay." Zilmiel looked down at Meeka after staring intently at Caliope. The little dragon slept soundly throughout the exchange, not stirring even as Zilmiel started sliding the seven phials into a wicker weave pouch while speaking. "If you insist on paying for the potion, I will ask only for additional information about these dragons as payment. In particular, what are their dietary considerations, have you found any other sicknesses specific to their kind, and what else should someone know about them? As you said earlier, traders keep bringing these creatures in, and you definitely won't be the last caregiver coming in with a sick teacup dragon. I'll at least have a head start in preparing remedies for those like Meeka." Meeka purred again right as Zilmiel scritched his ears with a finger. With his other hand, Zilmiel applied another wax charm on the pouch before a glowing wax seal formed between the pouch flap and body, leaving all seven phials ready for Caliope to take possession.

Meeka opened his eyes fifteen minutes later with a yawn before stretching his forelimbs on the counter. The scales and bottles were put away, faint streaks marked where the washrag cleaned the counter, and the cabinet behind Zilmiel was locked once more. "You said earlier that you have other drakarys micro creatures?" Zilmiel asked, wiping one final measuring phial clean for the late afternoon as the reddening sun lit the shop in beautiful warm hues.

"Don't mention it. I follow reports of whatever herbs and other ingredients arrive in this village, and occasionally I hear about exotic 'pets.' I almost expected something like this to happen: Some trader brings in animals they know nothing about. Someone rescues said creatures and comes to discover how ill-prepared society is in handling their ailments," Zilmiel said, watching Meeka as the dragon bit into another apple slice, dripping juice onto the counter. Meeka blew another plume of sparks right after he took a followup bite. "Nothing to apologize for here. You've done the smart thing by reaching out to someone who knows how to experiment. However, we'll talk about the payment after we see whether Meeka's treatment works. Feel free to take a seat on the stool to your right." Picking up another apple slice, Zilmiel tilted his head slightly, settling his piercing blue eyes on the teacup dragon before holding out the apple slice in his palm. Meeka recoiled for a split second before he sniffed the tips of Zilmiel's claws. To the half-dragon's pleasure, the teacup dragon took a bite of the apple with glee, dripping more juice into Zilmiel's palm as Meeka swallowed another bite of the apple.

---

Two hours passed. The apothecary's sign read "CLOSED" from the outside, though the apothecary's four occupants were hardly vacant from the premises. Meeka had curled into a ball thirty minutes after Caliope administered the teacup dragon's first dose of potion. He occasionally sneezed in his sleep, but the intervals between sneezes grew by the minute until, before the end of the second hour, Meeka had not sneezed once in the past forty-five minutes. Zilmiel carefully poured several more drops of concentrate each into the six remaining phials before diluting and capping them. Wax seals secured each phial, with the half empty phial and the first two following it enchanted with glowing charms as a reminder to administer those first before the four others.

"Count me surprised. We did it..."

Meeka continued to nap on the counter while Zilmiel marked some parchment listing all transactions for the day, purring once or twice after Zilmiel cautiously rubbed behind Meeka's ears, taking care not to pierce or scratch the teacup dragon's skin. "The potion itself was about to expire next month, and that was one of ten bottles I had to take for my own pneumonia. You'll only be charged for the apple, which comes out to about five pips. I only ask that you keep Meeka in a room separate from your other pets, if you have any. Otherwise, even I won't have enough concentrate to help with an epidemic."

"A treat? I might have something..." Zilmiel's voice trailed off, reaching his fingers into a cabinet behind him and besides the closed door. The storage cabinet opened without fuss as a fruity aroma penetrated the room: Apple, pear, and blackcurrant met Zilmiel's nose shortly before he pulled an apple fresh from this morning's harvest from the base shelf where two other apples waited to be dehydrated and candied. Zilmiel set the healthy apple on the countertop, ripe and deep red as it was. "Fresh from the tree. Let me get a knife and cut it up... You may need to feed the medicine directly to the little one while he's eating. The apple is already saturated with moisture as is." Zilmiel reached into the cabinet's top drawer just below the shelves, pulling out a cutting knife before returning his attention to the apple. "Assuming it works, he will need to take half a phial in the morning and half a vial in the evening. I will mark the open phial and two others differently to remind you to use those first. The remaining four will have half the total dose. Make sure you administer Meeka the entire course, or the pneumonia will relapse."

With the apple cut into eighths, Zilmiel cupped the slices between his left palm and the knife blade before pushing them before Caliope. "One sliced apple ready."

Zilmiel bit his semi-forked tongue, stepping around the fallen carcass and past the woman towards his rucksack twenty meters away. Any escape plans he had were dashed by that peculiar-looking musksomething, which he'd heard could take out a large gander from a distance. The mountainous dirt compressed under Zilmiel's dragon mass with each footstep, leaving more clawed footprints in his wake when he reached and picked up the rucksack.

Bringing the rucksack back over, Zilmiel's claws struggled to release the belt buckles as he approached the woman. His blue eyes stared at the firearm right as Zilmiel stopped five meters before the woman and tossed the bag midway between them. "Here is the rucksack. Inside you will find cave fungus plus some gold and silver. If you starve in these lands, I must ask: why do you bother staying here?"

Zilmiel averted his gaze to the woman's face, focusing on the pupils of her whites. If only he were a true dragon, then surely he could distract her with a dragon's gaze just long enough to disarm that damn firearm. "You are an outstanding cook if I must say so myself. Why not work for a wealthy family and earn a decent living?"

"Creature- what, how dare you-"

Zilmiel stopped himself, reason winning out for once over the vanquished starving beast within. "Yes, I am well aware I'm in Connlaothian lands. I needed potion ingredients." Zilmiel gestured to the half-full rucksack near his emergence point. "I... I must apologize for- this. I've been starving for the past day and a half, you see!" The half-dragon's fingers pointed towards the half-devoured deer right as his stomach grumbled again. The half-dragon breathed deeply, his eyes flickering between the yellow dog and his handler. "You see... I am a half-dragon. Well, I was a full elf, once..." Zilmiel's stomach growled menacingly again, and he could feel the base of his wings and arm muscles almost twitching, screaming for more food under the threat of collapse. "I must ask you for your name again, sorry..."

Zilmiel took another step back, taking himself out of arms reach of the deer roast so that the human woman could take back the half-eaten roast.

Five and a half pounds... Zilmiel listened carefully even as he began pouring water into the second graduated bottle. "I would not know if he's small for his age. All I can say is that creatures are in a vulnerable window during their youth. The youngest share their resistance from their mother while adults can fight off colds and such, but this one..." The graduated bottle stopped filling at the topmost point as Zilmiel set back down the flask, looking intently at Caliope for a minute with his eyes. "As I said earlier, there's a chance we can cure this condition, but you must prepare for the worst." Zilmiel's claws pried open the countertop drawer and counted out seven pinkie-length phials, standing them upright in a wooden phial holder to the right of the scales. "Draconic resistance only applies to adolescent and older dragons, not wyrmlings. Otherwise, we'd..." Zilmiel paused, a note of discomfort apparent in his eyes. "... overpopulate the place. Anyway..."

Zilmiel eyeballed the first phial, noting the number of drops of concentrate required per hundred drops of solution. With impeccable precision, Zilmiel gently tapped the concentrate bottle, filling about two percent of the bottle with the potion before he switched to the water bottle and filled the remaining volume. "This is the test dose, I suppose. I'm giving this little fellow twice the dose for his weight, and I want him to ingest half of the first phial. If his condition improves or stabilizes at least, I will prepare the remaining phials and give them to you. If it continues to worsen in the next two hours, well..." Picking up the first phial between two claws, Zilmiel held out the phial for Caliope. "I am not great with consolation. All I can offer is well-wishing."

"If the disease started yesterday, there's a chance it can be cured, but we'll need to act quickly," Zilmiel started, ignoring Caliope's stutter as if it were nothing as he craned his neck forward to take a closer look at the toy dragon. "I have something I took for my own pneumonia nine months ago, but we'll need to dilute it for Maek- Meeka, sorry. Give me a minute..."

Zilmiel opened the door behind him again and peeked down the corridor. "Emelys, bring me the-"

"Already got it." The woman's heed peeked from another open door, holding out a glass bottle still containing an eighth of its contents. "I figured you'd need it."

"Great recollection you have, Emelys. Bring me two water flasks and a scale if you can," Zilmiel ordered. The woman reemerged thirty seconds later from the compounding room and handed over a copper tray containing both flasks, a balance scale, and a rectangular box that, judging from their weight, contained all the weights used for measuring out solution masses.

As the door closed behind Zilmiel again, the apothecarist set the brass scales on the counter to his left before laying out the weights. The scale platters appeared just barely enough to fit one teacup dragon.  "First, please tell me Meeka's weight. If you don't know it, then my assistant will have to dig up the old package scale." Zilmiel said, popping open the medicine bottle and pouring its contents into the clear graduated bottle before him.