Master of None: A Wings of Fire fanfiction

3.

Content warning: descriptions of death and sickness, the aftermath of war, Shadowhunter-typical levels of angst

Shadowhunter

"Oh, three moons, you are so predictable," Permafrost says, rolling her eyes. She hasn't even bothered to draw the blunted spear strapped to her back.

The sky is still light around the edges, and the world seems so quiet. In my head, we're the only two dragons still awake in the whole camp.

"Predictable?!" I scoff. "You fight like you're trying to win a ballroom dance competition."

"And. I'm winning," my girlfriend taunts.

I draw my spear and lunge for her. She steps out of the way. "You fight like a wild animal," she teases with that stupid prim voice.

I knock her off balance. She rights herself and backs me toward a tree. I try to break away, but she moves with me.

One of Jerboa's imitations of wolves darts between us, a silver apparition. Permafrost shrieks, jumping.

I snicker. "You startle so easy." While she's still off-guard, I take the chance and knock her down, poking her chest lightly with my spear.

"Dead. You're dead. So dead, totally dead. Who fights like a wild animal now?" I tease, leaning over her.

"That wasn't fair," she says sourly.

"War isn't fair," I counter, grinning

Permafrost sticks her tongue out at me. "Fine. Shadowhunter: one. Permafrost: five."

"One very decisive defeat," I remind my girlfriend.

She sighs. "You are the most insufferable I've ever met."

I roll my eyes. "Not true. Polar–you complain about him all the time, and you haven't even seen the dragon for months. I can't be worse than him."

We walk back through Jerboa's illusion of a forest. The trees remind me of paper cut-outs, just a little too uniform to seem natural. The birdsong just a little bit cloying, the smell of pine too sharp.

***

"Three moons, kid," I say in lieu of a proper greeting, lighting a candle in Jerboa's room. "I'm rubbing off on you, am I?"

Her bedroom is littered with detritus–blankets and offering from well-wishers in heaps. The candlelight reflects off the beaded curtain, making everything seem a little bit ominous.

She murmurs something I can't make out, burying her face in her pillow.

"Any problems?" I ask Aloe.

Aloe shakes her head. "She just slept most of the day," she says softly.

"Did she eat anything? Drink anything?" Permafrost asks. She set up a chart, now sitting by the table—but the rest of us are terrible at remembering to use it.

Aloe shakes her head. "She was out cold. I didn't want to wake her up."

I set down my bag and sit beside Jerboa's bed, waving Aloe away. "Go. Get some rest. Stay up all right–I don't care. You're free. I'll take it from here."

"You don't mind staying awake all night?" Aloe asks doubtfully. "I can stay if you want me to." She's always second-guessing me like that, about things that don't concern her at all. It's starting to get on my nerves.