A dagger glints as it stabs into my table.

"Oh gods, not this again," I can't help but mutter into my half-finished pint of beer.

"Ye'll be wanting te' take this outside," the bartender calls to the dragon hunter who's just arrived at my table. "I don't want no trouble inside me pub."

"Let's make this easy," the hunter says. She's petite, but armed to the teeth. Her red enameled armor is studded with various knives, crossbow bolts, and poison darts. She has a crossbow on her back and a short sword at her hip. Judging by her stance, she knows how to use each and every one of her many, many weapons. "You tell me your name, and then you fly me up to Fire Mount and help me track down and kill the rest of your kind. I'll kill you last. Make this hard, and I'll just kill you now."

She wants my dragon name because she thinks I'm a disguised dragon. If I were a disguised dragon and she got my dragon name, she could command me to do whatever she wants, including fly her to the dragon stronghold at Fire Mount--a mountain literally so hot it would melt the flesh off any mere human who tried to climb it.

But I'm not a disguised dragon and I don't have a dragon name--just dragon magic which apparently hunters can smell. Each dragon husk they bring to the capitol gets them untold riches and their name in a big special book. All you need is a nose for dragons--or, rather, dragon magic.

You try and convince a greedy dragon hunter that you're human, though, see how far it gets you.

I've only just shaken a pack of hunters in the previous town. I haven't slept more than a few hours in three days. To say I'm getting cranky would be an understatement. I chug down the beer, slamming my empty mug on the table when I'm done.

"Let's take this outside."

I walk out first, sure that the either respect for the tavern keeper or surprise at my nonchalance will keep her from stabbing me in the back. But just in case, I twirl my right hand fingers into a quick shielding spell. It's a thin one--good ones take time to cast--but it'll stop any blades from slashing up my favorite green cloak too much.

Outside, the mountain air is bracing. I wish, not for the first time, that I was an actual dragon and not just some knock-off made by the generous whims of a short-sighted ancient lizard. Sure I can cast a few spells, but can I fly? Can I breathe fire? Is my body immune to the ravages of time? No, no, and a big old wrinkled no.

I turn around to see the hunter in front of the tavern, crossbow already aimed at my heart. I twist my fingers again, thickening my shield slightly in a way I hope she doesn't notice.

"Would you believe me if I told you I am not the dragon you are looking for?" I asked. I would hope my tired eyes and lack of literal wings would give me a way, but her eyes keep their steely glint. "Is that a no?"

She loosens the crossbow bolt, pinning my cloak to the ground. She has another one ready before I can move and the other side of my cloak is pinned. A third bolt is ready practically before I can blink and she's right in my face. I realize, a little too late, that I'm far too tired for this and also a little too drunk. I hold my hands up in surrender.

"Tell. Me. Your. Name." She hisses the words through her teeth.

"It's John, nice to meet you." I offer my hand, but I'm not really expecting her to take it. She only glares.

"Your full name. Now."

"It's John Xavier McDougal."

She jabs me with the crossbow. "That's not funny."

I sigh theatrically. "Ok, fine, It's John Francis Xavier McDougal. Are you happy now? Gods, I didn't want to share that middle name with anybody, but what can you do when someone shoves a crossbow in your face?"

Her expression flashes confusion and then concentration as she smells the air around me. She does it unlike any other hunter I've seen--kind of like a dog, with little sniffs and snuffs in and out. As she does this, she gradually forgets about the crossbow and lowers it.

"You smell…strange," she says.

I don't miss my opportunity, and yank the crossbow out of her hands before she remembers the large amount of zeros on a dragon's bounty. Gods, the thing is heavy.

She gasps in surprise, but has a knife at my throat before I can lift the crossbow.

"What are you?" she asks.

"Oh, so you don't think I'm a dragon anymore?" I ask sarcastically.

"No, I don't." The surety of her statement takes me more off guard than her arrival did. No hunter has believed me. Ever. Not in the entire decade I've been running from them.

"I-" I start, then think better on it. "It might be easier to explain without the knife on my throat."

She puts the knife away and jerks the crossbow from my hands before I can do anything about it. She trains it on my heart.

"Explain," she says.

I keep my hands up, but bend toward my pinned cloak. "I'm just going to pull these out, if you don't mind. I don't want to rip my cloak any worse than it already is.."

She doesn't shoot me as I tug the bolts free from the ground. I keep one hand up as I hand the bolts to her with the other. For whatever reason, this is what relaxes her. She lowers the crossbow, but doesn't put it away.

"What's your name?" I ask. I can tell she doesn't want to tell me. "Just your first name is fine."

Eventually she relents. "It's Kayla."

"Ok, Kay--can I call you Kay?--why don't I tell you all about it over a pint?" I gesture back at the tavern door. "My treat."

I can see the conflict in her face. She has a choice: kill me now and potentially collect a bounty, or listen to my story and risk me getting away. I guess she decides she'll be just as able to kill me later.

"Fine. But stay in my sight at all times."

"Yeah, sure, I can do that," I say, finally lowering my hands. "Not a problem."

I get to the tavern door first and hold it open for Kayla, but she doesn’t go in ahead. Eh, worth a try.

I twist my fingers to thicken my shield as I call out to the bartender, "Two pints, if you please, for me and the lady here." I slide into the same seat as before, my old mug still waiting for me, and begin my tale.

"I was a dragon hunter myself once, you see…"