from Writer's Choice Prompt - Beast, extra scenes

Peak sighed quietly - it had been nearly a year and still no sign of his big brother. Something wasn't adding up - Dreadwing would have contacted them to gloat if he had killed him and yet there was still no gloating coming from red and scaly. He glanced over at Ilona, who was trying her damnedest to show that she didn't care that Z'neth was still missing, even if everyone and their mother knew that the young medic had been carrying a torch for Z'neth ever since he and Dram had rescued her from a horde of gremwings. He shook his head and called over to her. "You know, you've straightened that tower of books six times now."

Ilona nearly jumped out of her skin - not expecting to hear anyone. She whipped around, a delicate hand resting against her breast bone. "Peak, are you actively trying to stop my heart?" she asked, wishing her heart would just settle back into a steady rhythm and stop beating erractically. Her hand slowly lowered and drifted back to that stack of books. "I know," she confessed. "But it still doesn't look straight and.."

Peak reached over and placed a hand on her smaller one. "'lona," he said quietly. "It's not your fault. Stop blaming yourself," he said quietly.

She stiffened a moment when he touched her before allowing herself to finally break and crumple into his arms, sobbing. A thousand if onlys swarmed her and all placing the blame clearly on her shoulders - if only she hadn't noticed one of the herbs they needed was running dangerously low, if only she hadn't voiced her concern at the last meeting that she had attended, if only Z'neth hadn't argued with her about how the hunt for amber was more important then the herb only to be told by his father that she had a clear point, if only, if only...

Peak gently rubbed her back, not sure how else to convey that he and his family didn't blame Ilona for what happened - no-one knew that Z'neth would be attacked by Dreadwing and would fail to return. No-one could have predicted it. He just stood there, letting her silently weep. "We will find him, 'lona," he said softly, lightly brushing her cheek with his lips. It was the only time he'd ever show what he felt for the young medic - especially since he knew his elder brother held her heart in his hands (even if said brother hadn't the slightest idea of what he felt for her, other then mild annoyance).

Ilona nodded, her cheeks tinted a soft rose out of embarrassment. She pulled free after a moment and went back to the table where the books were. Her hands rested against them for a moment before she sighed and moved them. Peak was right - she had adjusted that stack so many times that.. Besides, it wasn't like he was there to even notice that she.. No, she had to get her thoughts away from him, not wanting to deal with that anymore.

Peak watched her for a moment longer before turning away. He was going to go see if he could find his brother and bring him home. "God on high, hear my prayer," he whispered. "Bring him home. Bring him home." He headed for the nesting area, looking for Storm. "C'mon on, boy," he said, carefully mounting his dragon after he placed the WindJammer on (hoping he didn't need to use it). "One last look, just one last look."

~

Peak held his left arm across his chest, mildly grateful that the WindJammer was on his right arm and that arm could still be used. Damn mutants - never cut you any slack. His eyes studied the newest addition to the growing mutant army - now, which was this.. Oh, right - the newest, Attor, the self proclaimed son of Dreadwing (privately Peak thought the whole idea of Dreadwing procreating with anyone was entirely disturbing and Ilona better have the bleach ready because he really needed to wash his brain in it).

Attor studied the young human, his golden eyes critically examining him. He knew enough that human arms hadn't been meant to bend backwards like it had done. So, it was broken at the worst, dislocated at the best. He let out a tired sigh - that alien voice was demanding he do something to fix it. He beckoned with a finger, wagging it in the universal "come here" gesture.

Peak hesitated for a moment but knew he had no other choice. He reluctantly made his way over and let the mutant examine his arm.

Attor was silent as his hands drifted over the injured limb, seeking out what the exact damage was and where it was located. A simple dislocation - that alien voice had breathed a sigh of relief with that - and quite an easy thing to fix. "Hold still," he said, not even giving Peak time to protest as he promptly popped the dislocated limb back into place.

Peak was stunned to say the least - unaware that there was anything resembling compassion hidden within the bodies of the mutants. "Uh, thanks," he offered lamely.

Attor gave a brief nod. A small flicker of a forgotten memory stirred and he found himself reaching for that small pack he had been carrying with him - the one filled with the herbs his father had found with him. He had no use for them - but perhaps.. He roughly shoved them into Peak's hands and turned, vanishing back into the darkness.

Peak stared, confused, before he glanced down at the bag. He opened it slowly, his eyes widening in surprise - these.. then.. He had to get back to Airlandis and let his father know.