Hello everyone, hope all are having a nice day or night. I hope it is okay to post this despite the original prompt being so old. However I really liked the prompt and I wrote more for it then stopped. Recently someone mentioned it to me again, and I was inspired to continue writing some more for it. I hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcome. Have a lovely day!

Edit: I forgot to add a link to the original prompt. Fixed!

Vesper and Lace, Chapter 5: A small dragon against a big illness

“Atchoo!” The little witch’s head snapped back from the force of her sneeze, her raven black hair flew wildly. She sniffled, blowing her nose into a handkerchief and stared at the smiling little red dragon. “It’s not funny,” she pouted.

Vesper stifled a giggle as he flew to the ground, picking up the fallen dried petals of flowers and other plants. “I am not laughing at you,” he said as he flew back up and deposited the wayward goods on the table. Despite being barely six inches in length he could easily carry pieces of the herbs and plants. “I was simply marveling that someone tiny like you can create such a big noise!”

Lace glared at the dragon who flew back down to retrieve more fallen leaves. Although gargantuan compared to him, she was very short and small compared to other humanoid people. “You’re one to talk. You could do a little roar practice yourself. More like a squeak.” She stuck her tongue out at him when he threw a hurt look her way. Another sneeze rocked her frame, sending more herbs fluttering to the floor.

“Lace...are you well? This does not appear to be the fever of hay.” Vesper flew closer, his mirth had dissolved into worry. Her tanned skin was unnaturally pale, her rosy cheeks did not have their normal ruddy hue.

She sat in her chair, waving lethargically. “I’m fine Vesper, really.” She coughed. “It’s probably just a cold.” She breathed heavily, coughing more and barely noticed him settling on her shoulder. He touched her forehead with a scaly paw and he gasped in alarm.

“A cold? You are burning hot, like my chest when I am breathing fire!”

She scratched his head, shaking her own slowly. “No no, a cold is an illness. What you’re feeling must be a fever.” She shivered, but when she looked into his eyes she mustered a smile. “It’s a normal thing, to get ill. I’ll just need to make some medicine, and get some rest. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Vesper nodded, trusting in her word but he watched her carefully. She moved much slower than usual, taking more steps and her breathing became more labored as the night grew. With his aid she was able to grind a few herbs, mixing a potion that she drank with a shudder. She crawled into bed, smiling wanly as Vesper tugged on the blanket with his teeth to tuck her in. “Thank you Vesper,” she whispered. “I’ll be okay. There’s plenty of stew in the cauldron. Go ahead and eat. I’ll be fine in the morning.”

The little dragon sat on the table, watching the sleeping woman. He poured out a portion of the stew but found his appetite had left him, and instead he put it on the small table by her bed in hopes she would wake and eat. In the past when he felt ill he ate as much as he could. That seemed to help him. However she did not wake and he settled on his pillow, looking at her. He slept uneasily, waking to her coughs and his scales clicked with worry.

The next day she was not better despite her words. She lay in a stupor, her breaths came in fits and bursts. Great hacking coughs would wrack her body and Vesper almost flew about in panic. When she whispered for water he had dragged the water bucket to her bedside, pulling mightily on the rope handle and carefully flew up and down with a small ladle. She managed to drink and tried to say something else before she fell asleep again.

Vesper wiped away at the sweat on her face, patting gently with a cloth. Panic built like dragon fire in his stomach, wild and furious. I am so little, I cannot do more for her. Gods curse it, I need to do more. What can I do? He looked at the big table still covered with plants and herbs. Then his eyes fell on the great book opened on the table and he launched himself into the air. Landing in front of the oven book he looked closely at Lace’s neat handwriting. She needs medicine. I can read her writing. I can make it.

He labored long and hard. He checked each plant three times before he set them on a cloth to the side. Claws turned the pages delicately, he tugged on the parchment with his teeth to compare her notes on the best plants for a cold. He had to fly to the rafters to check plants in processes of drying and he even flew out of the house and into the garden to tear off leaves. He shredded the leaves and stalks with his claws, and holding a small pebble he ground them together in her pestle, his wings sticking out the top.

Looking at the mound of ground plant matter he chewed at his claws. Her smallest cauldron was still massive and he was tired, he was not sure if he could fill it with water to brew a tea or potion. The panic built up in his chest again, invigorated by another bout of coughing by Lace. He thought it was sounding weaker and that made his tail whip in a frenzy. Think wyrm, think! Just chewing the plant stuff will not help enough. I cannot brew it. What can I do? He spat in frustration and a flicker of fire left his maw, setting a part of the pile alight.

Smoke rose and a spicy scent emerged before he started to slap at the pile, trying to put the fire out. Then he stopped, scales clicked with inspiration. “Smoke! The smell will help those that cannot drink!” He remembered her giving a bundle of fragrant sticks to a worried mother, instructing her to slowly burn them and inhaling the vapors for relief. He tied the ends of the cloth together and grasped the knot with all four claws, dragging himself and the bundle into the air with mighty beats of his wings.

He landed heavily on the small table, almost crashing down from fatigue. Nervousness gave him energy to chew through the knot and he sat on the other side of the pile facing the comatose witch. He breathed deep, stoked the fire in his chest, and slowly began to breathe gouts of flame over the pile. Slow and steady, he increased his breaths, letting the top of the pile scorch before it started to smolder. Soon the pile began to burn, and he mantled his wings in readiness. When the spicy smoke started to spew forth he beat his wings slowly, causing the vapors to flow over Lace’s face.

Please, please, please, he prayed. Please Gods above, please let this work. I cannot lose her. She looked even smaller lying in her bed, her skin slick with sweat, her eyes closed. His wings stopped moving, and he hung his head dejected. A tear fell from his eyes into the smoldering herbs. Then she breathed deeply without rasp or cough,

His head popped up and he tip toed closer, hanging off the edge of the table to look at her. She was breathing more easy, no longer labored. Lines on her face lessened, relaxed. Vesper almost roared but managed to stifle his cry to not disturb her. Instead he breathed more fire on the plants, beating his wings slowly to continue the stream of smoke over the sleeping woman. When the pile had turned to ash he finally stopped, falling down bonelessly and fell into exhaustion.

He felt himself rising in the air and he struggled, wiggling as he tried to wake from his bad dream. “Easy there,” a tired voice said and made him pause. “I don’t want to drop you silly.”

His eyes popped open and he looked over the little witch eagerly. “Lace! Are you well?” It was the next day, the morning sun shone in through the windows and Lace still looked horribly pale. Yet her eyes were open, purple irises held warmth and her smile, though weak, was there.

“I feel better Vesper, thank you. And I am sure you had something to do with it.” She placed him on the pillow beside her as she rose on a shaky arm, poking through the ashes on the small table. “Ginger, feverfew, elm bark, a cold remedy. You turned it into vapor didn’t you?”

He nodded shyly. “I could not make a tea or a potion, and I remembered you gave some to a patient once.” His voice turned hesitant. “Did...did I do well?” He rumbled happily as he felt her hand rub his back.

“Very well, I’m impressed!” She coughed a little and waved away his alarm. “I feel much better. You did really well considering you weren’t formally taught.” Her eyes twinkled. “Perhaps I should train you too, like an assistant. I’d pay you more.”

His scales clicked from embarrassment and pleasure. “I would like that. But I do not need more of your coin. I am happy you are better.” He inched forward and rubbed her cheek with his head. A squeak of alarm left him as her arm pulled him closer, but he sighed happily instead when she held him.

“I’m sorry to worry you,” she said, her voice muffled as she spoke into his wing. “I’m so happy you are here, you help me so much and I am proud to call you friend.” He said nothing, could say nothing, and instead coiled around her neck, moving his wing out of her face. “When I feel better, I’m going to get a big fish for us and some meat from the village. How does that sound? Roasted fish, stew, and some fresh vegetables from the garden.”

“I like stew,” he replied sleepily as his eyes closed slowly. “I would like all of that...my friend.”