**The Garden of Whispers**
The mountain path was treacherous even without the unseasonable ice. Noraxia, in her four-legged form, placed each massive paw carefully while Jukrit clung to his usual spot between her shoulders.
"Remind me again why we're risking our necks for a flower?" she grumbled, though her complaint was halfhearted.
"The Moonwhisper Lily only blooms at this altitude, and old Cornelius needs it for his heart condition." Jukrit adjusted his grip as she navigated a particularly narrow ledge. "Besides, you've flown us through thunderstorms. This is just walking."
"Flying is natural. Pretending to be a mountain goat is not." But she continued steadily upward. "How long has it been since we've taken an easy job? Just once I'd like someone to need healing in a nice meadow. With sun. And flat ground."
The pause was tiny, but Jukrit heard it. These little hesitations had been happening more frequently since the Starfall Festival two weeks ago. Half-finished sentences, looks that lingered too long, moments where she started to say something then changed course.
They reached a sheltered grove as the sun began to set. Noraxia shifted to her anthropomorphic form to help set up camp, her movements efficient from long practice.
"I'll scout ahead for the lilies while you prepare dinner," Jukrit offered.
"Not alone." The response was immediate. "The monastery keeper mentioned something about this place. The Garden of Whispers?"
"Local superstition. They say the mountain speaks truths here that people don't want to hear."
"All the more reason not to separate." She crossed her arms, a gesture he'd learned meant negotiation was pointless.
They searched together as dusk fell, finally finding a cluster of the precious lilies in a hollow where steam rose from underground hot springs. The flowers were beautiful—silver-white petals that seemed to glow in the dim light.
"Got them," Jukrit said, carefully harvesting what they needed while leaving the rest undisturbed. "See? No mysterious whispers, no revealed truths. Just flowers and—"
He stopped. Noraxia had gone very still, her head tilted as if listening.
"Do you hear that?" she whispered.
At first, Jukrit heard only the wind. Then, gradually, he became aware of something else—not quite voices, but patterns in the air movement that almost seemed like words.
*Tell her.*
He shook his head. Mountain acoustics playing tricks. But the whispers grew clearer.
*Tell her tell her tell her she already knows but needs to hear tell her tell her*
"We should go," Noraxia said abruptly. Her golden eyes were wide, and she wouldn't meet his gaze. "Now."
They retreated to their camp, but the atmosphere had changed. The comfortable companionship of two seasons' travel felt suddenly fragile, stretched thin by unspoken words.
Dinner was quiet. Noraxia kept starting to speak, then stopping. Jukrit found himself doing the same. The whispers hadn't followed them, but their echo remained.
Finally, as they prepared for sleep, Noraxia blurted out, "What did you hear? In the garden?"
"Wind," Jukrit lied.
"Just wind?"
"Mountain acoustics. Like I said, local superstition tends to—"
"I heard whispers telling me you'd leave." Her words came out in a rush. "That furfolk don't live as long as dragons. That I'm foolish to... to care so much when I'll lose you in what feels like moments to my kind."
Jukrit's heart clenched. "Noraxia—"
"And the worst part is, they're right." She turned away, her form beginning to shift toward her four-legged shape—her default when emotionally overwhelmed. "I knew this when we started traveling together. I knew it at Starfall when we danced and I wanted... I knew it when you healed me in that cave and I first thought how kind your eyes were."
"Stop." Jukrit moved in front of her, placing his small paws on her partially shifted muzzle. "Please. Stay with me. In this form. Talk to me."
She solidified back into her anthropomorphic shape, but kept her eyes closed. "It hurts, Jukrit. Caring this much. The whispers just reminded me how much it's going to hurt."
"What I heard," Jukrit said softly, "was voices telling me to say something I've been too cowardly to say. Something I've wanted to tell you since you spun me under the stars and looked at me like I was something precious."
Her eyes opened, bright with unshed tears.
"I love you," he said simply. "I've loved you since we met. Maybe since you carried that family across the flooded river, or when you learned to dance despite being terrified. I don't know when it started. I just know it's true."
"But the time—"
"Yes, our time is limited. Everything's time is limited. That's what makes it precious." He reached up to touch her face. "I could live safely for forty more years and never feel what I feel with you. Or I could have whatever time we're given and know what it's like to love a dragon who keeps starlight fabric for 'medical emergencies' and pretends she doesn't cry at puppet shows."
"I don't cry at puppet shows."
"You cried when the little puppet found his way home."
"That was very moving puppetry." But she was smiling through her tears now. "You really...?"
"I really. The question is whether you—"
She kissed him. It was awkward—size differences and muzzle shapes making it more bump than kiss—but it was perfect anyway. When they pulled apart, both were laughing.
"I love you too," she said. "My small, reckless, too-brave healer. I've loved you so long I forgot what it felt like not to."
They stayed up talking until dawn, making plans and promises. How they'd handle the challenges—the size difference, the lifespan disparity, the judgment of others. None of it seemed insurmountable now that the words were said.
"The whispers," Noraxia mused as the sun rose. "Do you think they were real?"
"Does it matter? Real or not, they made us speak truths we needed to say."
She shifted to her four-legged form but lowered herself so he could climb up. "Next time, let's just talk without needing a magical mountain to intervene."
"Agreed. Though technically, you're the one who—"
"Jukrit?"
"Yes?"
"I love you, but if you finish that sentence, I'm going to pretend to accidentally drop you in the next stream we cross."
He laughed, settling into his usual spot that now felt like home. "I love you too."
As they descended the mountain with the precious lilies secured, Jukrit thought about their future. There would be challenges—there always were. But there would also be more dances under falling stars, more shared adventures, more quiet evenings by campfires where she forgot not to cry at his stories.
"Hey Noraxia?"
"Mmm?"
"When we get back to Riverside Market, there's something I want to show you. A house for sale near the healer's quarter. With a dragon-sized door."
She nearly stumbled. "You want to...?"
"I want a home base. Somewhere to return to between travels. Somewhere that's ours." He paused. "If you want."
"Yes." No hesitation. "Yes, I want that."
They traveled on in comfortable silence, no longer healer and companion but something more—two hearts that had found each other across impossible odds and chosen love despite the promise of eventual loss.
Sometimes the greatest adventure was simply admitting what had been true all along.
