Dream.

Having in front of you a monster full of joy, turned out to be much more terrifying than a creature trying to kill you. Ewan mentally wondered again if he was doing the right thing, but once again could not find a clear answer to this question.

Winblow took the opportunity to hurry back to her cave, without waiting for the young man, who suddenly found himself alone without really knowing why.

On that note, he decided to go look for Fusain before joining the dragoness near her den. He suspected well while returning near the cave that he would have to look for his new 'recruit', 'traveling companion', or whatever she was to him; but was surprised upon arriving, to see absolutely no trace of the monster, either outside, or inside the cave.

He then heard sounds of stones being turned over and thrown from inside the lair, and more precisely, from the bottom. The tunnel must have gone farther underground than he thought; since the noise seemed to be a distant echo.

Winblow then re-emerged from the darkness into the daylight outside, carefully holding a cloth wrapped around something long in her mouth.

"What are you doing? You left all of a sudden..." Ewan asked, quite annoyed.

Winblow then approached, and after having delicately put down the unknown object she was carrying in her mouth, said:

"I have gone to fetch something that belongs to me, and which I must not part with. "

"You want to talk about that? " Ewan asked, pointing to the object wrapped in the old cloth. "It doesn't look like a bag of gold coins..."

"Gold coins? " Wynblow repeated, not understanding what the young man meant by that.

"Yes, gold. Dragons are known to hoard treasures that they defend fiercely. I thought that's what you'd be going after, but it's not..." Ewan wondered, "What is it?"

"A fragment of my past," she said, pushing the object towards the hunter, inviting him to open the package in order to observe its contents.

Ewan approached, and with precaution, began to unroll the pieces of fabric, revealing an object at the same time familiar and unknown.

"It's... A sword? "He finally said. "I've never seen one like that…"

He was staring at a weapon in its scabbard, a white silver handle decorated with two opposing black lines on either side being the only observable thing about the weapon itself, whose blade was protected by a one-piece scabbard. The scabbard in question, which was as white as snow, and had some reinforced points with pieces of a gray material that looked as strong as steel, was strangely perfect in its construction. There was not a single flaw in the forging, or even in the curves: everything was strangely very straight, with angles that were unreal in their thinness and accuracy.

The whole thing seemed relatively light, considering how strong this strangely clean, sparsely worked, but fantastically formed piece of equipment must have been; so that the process must have taken an immeasurable amount of time just for the scabbard itself.

But the most disturbing thing is that in addition to this perfection in appearance, no trace or mark left by a tool was visible on the whole weapon. A true work of craftsmanship, which did not seem to have been conceived by the hand of man.

He was about to uncover the blade of the sword when he realized that the scabbard had a device that prevented it from being opened with bare hands. A kind of protrusion sealing together the weapon and its scabbard. He didn't try to force the mechanism, at the risk of provoking Wynblow's anger, and preferred to re-pack the weapon, which seemed to come from another world, in its old fabric.

"I must take it with us; if I understand well? "Ewan asked.

Wynblow nodded.

"It's not like I can carry it in my mouth all the time," she explained. "I still need to talk. "

'Too bad, that would have been too convenient,' Ewan thought.

"Besides, it attracts way too much attention," Wynblow added hastily.

This behavior towards the object aroused some suspicion in Ewan. Of course, it was a sword of excellent workmanship, although he could not see the blade, and which could therefore attract covetousness, but he felt that it must hide something else. As he hung the weapon, made unrecognizable by its cloth wrapping, on Fusain's side under Wynblow's scrutinizing eyes, he asked:

"Where did you get that sword, exactly? "

The dragoness raised a questioning 'eyebrow' - dragons didn't really have what could be called 'eyebrows', but rather a sort of bony, cartilaginous bump above each eye - before answering:

"It was given to me, a while ago," she explained. "By the same man who named me. "

This answer did not satisfy Ewan at all, who became even more suspicious of the dragoness, and of the object in question.

"This man gave you like that, something that has the has so precious? "He asked suspiciously.

Wynblow nodded her head in agreement.

"And what exactly does this sword represent? "Ewan insisted.

"I don't know," she answered bluntly.

This annoyed Ewan. She really seemed to be ignorant of many things, especially about herself. And obviously, the main interested party was not paying attention to him anymore, already busy wagging her tail to raise dust, while observing with a curious eye the horse a few steps away.

He would obviously not have more information at the moment, about this strange object.

The young hunter then untied a pack from the back of Fusain, and after having untied the horse, leaving it only with the sword hanging on the side, as well as a blanket on the back. Then, the young man began to move towards the forest.

"What are you doing?" Wynblow asked, incredulous.

"Can't you tell? I said we wouldn't risk traveling in broad daylight. So I'm going to look for wood to make a campfire while waiting for the night. "Explained the young man.

"I see... So we will only leave tonight? " Asked she, visibly disappointed.

Ewan nodded before continuing on his way and disappearing behind some bushes. The dragoness then dropped heavily to the ground, before lying down, staring at the motionless horse that faced her.

The animal didn't seem to be too afraid anymore, but some distrust could still be detected in its eyes towards the reptile. He ruminated, before finally paying no more attention to the fire-breather. Wynblow then let out a cloud of steam from her nostrils, before letting her head rest on her forearms. She turned her gaze away from the equine and stared at the pack left as it was on the ground by Ewan. Soon, time passed, and after her gaze wandered here and there, gazing at branches, birds, the sky, stones, and the sandy ground, Wynblow finally fell asleep; her heavy breathing, and the sounds of the horse's chewing on whatever grass it could find within reach of her mouth, remaining the only disturbances in the air.

And soon she began to dream.

"'Wynblow'. What do you think of it? It's a nice name, isn't it? " Said a man's voice.

"Wyn...Bu...row?" She repeated.

"It means 'Howling Steel'. Not bad, isn't it? I chose it because of the silver color of your scales. " continued the male voice.

Ah, were those memories of that time she was experiencing again?

"My scales...? "she repeated.

"Yes. They are so beautiful in the light of day, they make me think of dancing blades. "He said.

It was really strange. She remembered perfectly what this man had said. But she couldn't remember his face or the exact tone of his voice.

Had it happened too long ago, for her to remember it intact and accurately?

"Wynblow." said the man then, in a solemn voice. "You will call yourself that, from now on. Is that understood? "

She nodded.

"That's the only name you'll have to answer by, okay? "He insisted gravely.

Then... Her dream ended.