The Warrior, a human-lion Therianthrope hybrid, leaped from the dragon's back as it landed heavily amid the advancing creatures, crushing many and scattering those unlucky enough to be too close. The Therianthrope landed on the back of one of the beasts in the group, thrusting his short sword in his left hand through the rider while simultaneously bringing down the blade of his battle axe onto the neck of the beast it sat upon, severing the huge head.

As the large beast falls to the ground, the warrior pushes aside the dead rider, runs down the long back of the dying beast, heading for another target. He lands, rolls, then slides underneath the next beast. He thrusts the blade of his short sword into the soft, unprotected belly of the beast, turns his body, plants his feet firmly on the ground, stopping his forward motion, while the beast's mass continues forward. The blade slices up the length of the beast's belly, releasing its intestines as it keeps moving forward.

The Warrior came up crouching, weapons in hand, his clawed feet planted wide, sniffing the air. His ears twitched as the thunder of hooves and the wet, guttural snarls of the horde engulfed his senses. He charged at the next enemies, taking them out in less than a breath. Jumping to another, he skewers the tall, lanky rider with his sword, lifting him into the air and throwing him at two more riders close behind, knocking them off their mounts and causing them to tumble into the stampede of their own and other beasts. 

The riders were known as the Husk—a nightmarish swarm of humanoid mutants who had long ago surrendered their humanity to twisted parasitic genetics. Rarely seen in daylight, these creatures were a fierce, brutal race. They looked like tall, oversized human skeletons, with skin stretched tightly over their bones. Their skin had a purplish tint, and they were completely hairless. Their jaws held two or three rows of sharp, white teeth, perfect for ripping and tearing. Many men, women, and children from this and many other villages had fallen prey to those deadly teeth. That was until He and the Dragon arrived on this world.

More of the horde poured into the open field, fifty strong at first, swelling to a hundred as more emerged from the thick forest of trees.

This next wave crashed into him and the dragon like a tide of teeth, claws, and skin. The Warrior exploded forward in a blur of golden fur and steel. His battle axe sang through the air in a wide, horizontal arc. The heavy blade sheared clean through the neck of a mutant beast, severing its head in a spray of blackish blood and flesh. The Husk rider tumbled forward, screeching, only for the Warrior's short sword to punch upward through its ribcage. It twisted viciously before dying and falling to the side.

The Warrior spun, using his momentum. A second beast lunged, jaws snapping at his face. The Warrior’s foot whipped around, smashing into its eye, and he brought the axe down in an overhead chop that split the mount’s skull like a log. The rider tried to scramble free, but the Warrior stomped down with a clawed foot, crushing its spine with a sickening crunch.

Blood—his own and theirs—began to mat his fur. A claw from one of the Husk raked across his left shoulder, tearing deep furrows into his armor. He snarled through the pain, senses sharpening. The world slowed: he heard the wet heartbeat of the next rider, smelled the fear.

The Warrior became a whirlwind of primal fury. He ducked under a leaping beast’s pounce, rolling to his feet and driving the short sword into its soft underbelly while the axe hooked another rider’s mount by the leg and yanked it off balance. The creature collapsed, pinning its rider. The Warrior finished both with a brutal downward smash of the axe, the impact sending shockwaves up his arms.

The warrior glanced back at the dragon; its enormous size and ferocity didn’t seem to deter the Husk from moving forward. Two or three Husks and their mounts were knocked down each time the dragon swung its claws at the approaching horde, but they kept coming regardless.

So far, the two protectors had stopped any of the Husk from getting past them, but these creatures were determined to overpower them to reach their prey.

“Crow!” the Warrior called for the dragon in his mind. “This hoard is too large for us to hold here. We’ll have to retreat and try to lure them away.”

Crow's mental voice came in response, “I agree, Warrior. At least long enough for the villagers to make it safely to their vaults so these Husk can’t reach them.”

The warrior was about to lose himself to his berserker nature, reluctant to stop fighting, killing, and tasting the blood of combat. His human side was stronger when it came to reason, and without Crow, the dragon, offering calm guidance, he would get caught up in the chaos of the fights until he won, or died.

“You are correct, old friend. We can retreat and lure them toward the cliff, away from the village,” the warrior thought back.

“Come, Warrior, we will make it so,” Crow replied. “We will retreat slowly enough for them to follow, then fly off when we reach the cliff. That should give enough time for the village to reach safety in their vaults.”

The warrior took down another beast and rider before sprinting back to Crow and jumping onto the dragon's scaled back.

Crow galloped slowly westward toward the cliffs, pausing now and then so the Warrior could throw rocks and insults at the approaching horde. They were doing a good job of distracting the horde from the village and drawing their attention to themselves. This will do the trick, the warrior thought.

By the time the two protectors reached the cliff, it was almost night. The remaining horde still followed them. They stopped just short of the edge, fought a few more Husk, then the dragon leaped off the cliff, spread his wings, and flew away from the advancing horde. Some of the horde were so fixated on catching the duo that they leaped off the cliff in chase, falling to their deaths.

“These Husk make me think of a fantasy tale I read about evil Kobolds,” The Warrior said to Crow.

“Kobolds?” Crow questioned.

“Yeah,” The Warrior replied, “Mythical creatures originally from German folklore. The evil ones were found mainly in some fantasy novels.”

“German?” Crow asked.

Another word he needed explained. Crow knew what a fantasy novel was; the Warrior used that term a lot and had already explained it, along with others, but Crow still needed some things explained. “Germans are people from Earth; they live in a country called Germany and speak a language different than mine.”

“Oh!” the dragon exclaimed, “the different countries and languages your world holds. I remember.” 

“Well,” the Warrior continued, “when the Evil Kobolds attacked a castle with their endless hordes, they would breach the walls by climbing atop one another. Groups would climb over each other, crushing those beneath, as hundreds or thousands piled up on the dead to overrun the wall and attack.”

Crow dipped his head in thought, “That reminds me of something from my past about a reptile race. I couldn't sense them, and I couldn't see them. They weren’t violent, but they were a nuisance.”

This time, the Warrior tilted his head and frowned. “I’m not following. How does a nuisance compare to a crazy horde race bent on destroying and eating humans?” he said a bit too curtly.

“You shared a possible memory from your past that you had never mentioned before,” Crow responded. "I rarely remember moments from my own past, like the one you just shared with me, which also brought up the memory I had just shared with you.”

The Warrior realized Crow was right once more, reflecting his role as the voice of reason while Jason tended to get frustrated. Anything Crow could remember from before the long dream vision they woke up from was beneficial.

After the dream vision, the Warrior was the only one of the two who could remember everything from his past. Remember wasn’t really the right word; it was more like assumed. Everything before the long sleep was fuzzy at best. The memories were more like a dream Jason lived, but not a real life. He believed it was real, but he couldn't be sure. 

Crow, on the other hand, had no knowledge of anything before meeting the Warrior in the dream vision. The Dragon had retained his original knowledge of walking and flying. Crow knew his Dragon vocabulary, which Jason could not understand at the time, so they learned to communicate in both Dragon tones and human speech.

In the dream visions during the long sleep, they became the best of friends; they became one entity, connected on a level no one could have imagined. When they eventually woke from the long sleep, they found themselves lying in a puddle of viscous white fluid and vomiting that same substance from their stomachs and lungs.

“I think it is about time we start heading back to the village,” Crow said, interrupting the Warrior's thoughts. “By now, the Husk should have found the village empty and moved on.”

“Probably,” the Warrior replied, “I think they should have migrated onto the next animal grazing site by now, so they won’t be back this way until the next year or two at the earliest.”

“Agreed,” Crow confirmed. “This village will be safe for now. Over the next couple of days, we can calculate the movement of the Husk and determine the next..." Crow suddenly broke off and dropped altitude, as if he were struck by something and began to fall.

“CROW!” the Warrior shouted, gripping the dragon's scales as tightly as possible with all four of his claws, trying not to fall off. 

Crow regained his composure, spread his wings, and stabilized his flight. “My apologies, friend. Something just shocked my mind like nothing I experienced before. It hit me, in my mind and froze every muscle in my body.” The dragon did sound a bit shocked. That was unusual for something to disturb Crow like that. “It felt powerful and altering. At the same time, it still felt familiar, like something I should know or had experienced before.” 

Crow inhaled deeply to fill his air sacs, beat his wings harder, and rose higher into the sky, then gradually released the air as he stretched out his tail, extended his wings, and slowly glided down to the treetops. “We need to rest, and I need to eat.” Crow said, “I have expended too much energy on the events of the day and need to refuel.”

The Warrior knew the dragon needed to refuel. He had exerted himself and hadn’t eaten; he would grow slower and more lethargic. The Warrior could also sense the dragon's mental state worsening after the shock of whatever had just happened. “Yes, let us rest and find food. That will be best for both of us.”

With that, the big dragon descended in a long, graceful glide toward an open field. Moments before touching down, he spread his massive wings wider, flaring like a canopy, reducing his speed with precision. His hind feet brushed the grass first, followed by his foreclaws, as he settled gently onto the earth. He folded his wings neatly against his sides. As the Warrior looked over Crow’s side towards the ground, he was still amazed at how such a large creature could leave little more than rippling grass and a faint swirl of dust to mark his landing.