It was a medium size young dragon. White and red, the color contours on its hide mixing with a steady stream of blood, considerably darker than the markings. It was blind. Three arrows poked from one eye, two from the other. At least twenty from other parts of the creature. Some of them had snapped, and André thought of how tiresome it would be to replace them. But at least some of them survived.
Blood dribbed from the creature's nostrils. It had uprooted two trees after losing its sight, but now it was slowly calming down. André stood still next to a large boulder, and let his eyes wander off from the dying dragon. Asher had exited the battle after André took off its eyes, knowing that the fight was as good as over at that very moment. He was nowhere to be seen, but the steady warmth over the ex-templar's heart told that he wasn't far. He usually didn't stick around to watch André finish off the dragons.
The dragon was exhausted, but stood in a defensive pose and turned its head in different directions, trying to locate the human by hearing. André waited. He let himself relax and close his eyes. When he opened his eyes, the dragon had decided to lie down.
He wasn't trying to be quiet when he walked closer to the mortally wounded animal. The dragon's nostrils flared and it almost stood up, but then decided against it. It was a familiar dance. André stopped next to its head and readied his bow. It was a quiet movement, just enough to make the dragon sniff curiously at him. It swallowed before it put its tongue slightly out of its mouth to lick a taste of this deceptively warm and safe being. A friend.
An arrow plunged deep into its brains through the eye, and the dragon convulsed. André stepped back quickly and waited. After several minutes, the dragon lied completely still. The evil was dead.
The man pulled as many arrows out of the dragon as he could manage, and wiped them off against the grass on spots it wasn't bathed in blood. He put them into his quiver and walked away from the lifeless corpse that still had its tongue slightly out of its mouth.
Asher was sitting with his back against a tree, and André pretended not to notice how red his eyes were.
"We should make camp. We need to make more arrows, might as well use some real materials. The talons were sorta crooked to be used, but it had pretty small teeth", he explained. André was mostly talking to himself, but he was also partially hoping that his friend would be pulled out from his mood.
"Sure", Asher answered quietly, but didn't move. After standing there for a moment, André muttered that he'd go get them some water. The flask was still half full, but there was a mountain cave nearby with a spring. Some space would be good now, and he could wash the blood off his armor while he was there.
The water was punishingly cold, and even though André's whole body was thrumming with the knowledge that he did the right thing, there was something comforting in the cold pain. The sun was going down, so his bright idea to dip himself into the water completely was starting to feel more and more foolish by the second. But still he lingered, scrubbing his hair from imaginary blood for around three times as long as would have been reasonable. His finger became numb, but in the end he was clean, his armor was clean (and wet - he'd have to ask Asher to dry it for him) and the flask was full. Luckily he had filled it before tarnishing the water with dragon blood.
It was almost dark when he walked home. Um, camp. Asher. There was a fire going and his companion was clearly working on some kind of soup thing. Or tea. Both sounded really nice.
"That was a long trip for water", Asher commented, eyes on the older man but partially blind for the shadows after tending to the fire. André laughed and started to take off his armor again.
"Got cleaned up. Would you have enough energy to dry my armor? It's sorta sopping wet."
Asher got up and went to help with taking off the damp heavy piece of chest armor, but the moment his fingers touched the dragon scale armor's surface he hissed.
"It's freezing cold. Did you throw the whole armor into the pool or what?"
"...Threw myself into it would be more accurate, actually", André laughed again, this time more quietly.
A warm hand pressed against his cold cheek, and André continued before Asher could flip.
"I won't get sick, just thought I'd take care of my hygiene while I could. It's fine."
"...Get that fucking armor off and come sit by the fire before you get pneumonia", Asher hissed, trying to sound annoyed but mostly just sounding worried. André did as told, and went as far as to even change the clothes under his armor into dry ones. He was still cold, but instead of sitting right next to the fire, he tapped Asher's shoulder. The younger man was leaning in a tree, a few meters from the fire. He had a blanket on his shoulders.
Asher moved his legs farther apart and moved the blanket from the way on his lap. Soon he had a cold back pressed against his chest, but luckily the old blanket was warm and big enough to easily accommodate two people under it. André didn't let himself tremble from the cold, and just focused on the warm arms wrapped around himself. Some of his damp hair fell over his eyes uncomfortably, but he didn't want to ask Asher to let go so that he'd be able to brush them to the side. So instead, he closed his eyes. They were quiet for a while, before Asher talked.
"I made tea."
"Mmm."
"Want some?"
"Yeah. Not yet though."
"Okay."
They sat in silence, silent and unmoving. Too much in mind.
The first thing to become warm again was the skin over the dragonslayer's heart. When the rest of his body caught up, the templar tattoo still simmered with warmth in a way a real fire could never rival.
