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been piled and looped and tucked to make a cozy little depression for him to sleep in. Amantea blinked, then glanced around. Isaia was in dragon form on the other side of the fire. He seemed to be asleep, if the soft, purring snores were any indication. The noise was cute, but Amantea valued his life so he'd probably keep that to himself. They were beneath the shelter of some tree branches, but that was all Amantea could tell about their surroundings in his smaller form and given how dark it was.
    Amantea stretched his wings experimentally. They seemed fine, thankfully. The ache in his chest was gone, and his arms and legs no longer felt like jelly. His head still hurt, but it was a much-dulled ache compared to earlier, after he'd ported Isaia and himself out of Naldo's trap.
    Further investigation of the little silk nest turned up a small pile of berries and nuts. Nothing Amantea recognized, but they smelled right, so he started eating slowly. He didn't try to think about all the problems he had. He was safe and, discounting the headache, whole. He could port them... somewhere in the morning, and figure things out then.
    Amantea watched Isaia curiously as he ate, finally noticing that Isaia wasn't in the dragon form he'd been in when Amantea had caught him in the jar. He definitely had wings folded against his side, and Amantea could just see the shadows of three horns jutting from Isaia's head.
    How many forms did dragons have? Three? Or could they shift to as many forms as they liked? Would Isaia tell him if he asked? Amantea finished his fruit, licking his fingers clean. Sighing in contentment, he nestled back into the silk nest and dozed back off, thoughts of handsome red dragons chasing him into dreams.
    Isaia's movements woke Amantea next, and a quick glance proved it was after dawn. Stretching, Amantea sat up and stared at Isaia. He was huge; he seemed bigger than he had in his other dragon form. Amantea was certain that wasn't simply because of his own smaller size. Isaia flexed his wings, stretching out the huge, long, leathery appendages before tucking them close.
    Then he started to shift. It was a slow process and looked laborious as bits shifted and compressed and folded. Amantea was triply glad that his shifting was so much quicker. Finally, Isaia was in his extremely naked, smaller form again, and it suddenly occurred to Amantea where the silk nest he'd been sleeping in had come from.
    Scrambling out of it, Amantea shifted to his larger form. It would be easier to talk to Isaia that way, plus he'd have to be larger-sized to set up the portal to wherever they decided to go. Once the shift was done, Amantea unwrapped the shirt tied around his arm and pulled it on. He'd lost his cap at some point, and he tried to flatten the mess of his hair with his fingers, but he was fairly certain he only succeeded at making it worse.
    Isaia approached, retrieving his scarf, and Amantea stared resolutely at the nearby trees as he tied it in place around his hips. "Are you better, flit?"
    Amantea bristled, shooting Isaia a dark look. He wasn't a flit.
    "Amantea," Isaia said, and Amantea wanted him to go back to calling him a flit. Something about the way Isaia said his name was unsettling.
    "I'm fine," Amantea said. He hesitated, peeking at Isaia. "Are you?"
    Isaia nodded. "Where are we?"
    "I don't know," Amantea said. His head throbbed, as though suddenly reminded that Amantea had done portal magic without an anchor. He gave up standing, sitting down on a patch of dirt near the burnt-out fire. "But I can port us..." Amantea waved a hand to signify 'anywhere'.
    "Can you port me back to Naldo's home and port you home?" Isaia asked. He didn't sit, and Amantea glared at him. Apparently Isaia didn't understand that Amantea wasn't going to go home.
    "What does Naldo want dragon scales for?" Amantea asked, countering Isaia's question with a more important question.
    "I don't know," Isaia said. He scowled, but the expression slipped