She woke in a dark room, that smelled of unwashed prepubescent boys. The bed she lay in was lumpy and the blankets were coarse, but it was warm. Her hands were on the cover, heavily bandaged and sore. She blinked for a few minutes more, breathing silently inexplicably afraid of whom ever had brought her here. A door creaked open, and a boy with reddish hair, pale skin, and sharp blue eyes, peered in. He noticed that she was awake and walked in, already a blush had risen to color his cheeks.



"Hi, my name is, ummm, my name is Raistlin, and I ummm saved you from the, book or poison or what ever it was that was killing you. "He swallowed and forced himself to continue, not making eyecontact. "I , uhh, my father, brought you here, he found you in the woods, said you were dying, so I uhh, saved you." He turned crimson and stared resolutly at his feet.



"Thank you," she whispered, and she herself blushed.

He made a squeak of a reply and hurried fromt he room, scholarly and prepubescent social skill shining through.



She got out of bed the next day, at around noon, to find out that her young savior was at school ,and would be home in the afternoon. His mother had provided her with a small coarse dress to wear, because her robes were "ruined" or so she had said. Talashar did not spend much time in the house, instead she walked out along hte boardwalks meeting the people and the place of Solace. The day wore on and she saw, come the evening, a wagon upon which Raistlin sat, next to his brother. She listened to the brother laugh and joke about something, while Raistlin sat brooding.

Making up her mind, she sprinted to the nearest stair case, and was out in front of them as they approached, and as they did Raistlin turned red.



"Hello, Raistlin." She spoke loudly, smiling sheepishly, her hands behind her back.

"Uhh, hi, I uhh, see you are feeling better, that's good." he managed, and stepped off of the wagon, "I need to uhh, see you hands today, to check for infections." It was the first thing he could think of saying.

"I don't get infections," she beamed, but held out her hands to him, on the street. He took her right hand and began unwrapping it. "My name is Talashar by the way, but most people call me Tal."

He looked at her in the eyes for a breif moment, before turning redder still and focussing on her hand. "Hi, Talashar, umm what do you mean, you don't get infections?"

"I have never been sick, because my Da says our kind can't get sick."

"Your kind?" Raistlin said, a little jealousy stealing into his voice.

"Dragonkin, can't you tell?" At that moment he looked down at her hand, the skin had healed up, no trace of injury on he pale palms.

"Oh," he managed, before he passed out, still holding her hand.

She looked up at his brother from the ground, "does he do this often?"