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After thirty minutes, Dewey floated into the room, carrying a glass filled with a disgusting-looking green liquid. A straw poked from the top.
“Okay, this should do it. I estimated your weight, so I hope it’s strong enough.”
“You could have asked me,” Paige murmured, rubbing her watery eyes.
Dewey perched on the edge of the nest, holding the green sludge closer to Paige. “It’s rude to ask a lady her weight. Or her age.”
“I’m thirty-four. And I weigh–“
Dewey belted out a loud set of notes. “La-la-la, no. I don’t want to know.” He shoved the drink closer to her. “Here, drink this.“
Paige’s nose wrinkled as the stench floated toward her. “Ugh, it stinks. What is it?”
“It’s a special pain reliever for dragons. I happened to have the ingredients on hand in case I ever need them.” He grasped the straw and pushed it toward her lips. “Drink.”
Paige sucked the thick liquid through the straw. She swallowed it down, her face pinching. She shook all over as the rancid taste lingered on her tongue.
“Ugh. It tastes even worse than it smells.”
Dewey’s thick eyebrows crinkled, and he pulled the glass closer to him, sniffing it. He dipped a claw inside and licked it. “Tastes fine to me.”
“How can we have the same taste in pizza and be so vastly different in this?”
Dewey shoved it back toward her. “Just drink it.”
Paige took another long draw on the straw. “Ack, I hope this helps. I’m not sure what’s worse–the pain or this.”
Paige lifted her head to drink more of the horrible green sludge. A burning pain shot through her shoulder. She downed more of the drink.
“The pain’s worse,” she said as she emptied three-quarters of the glass.
“Almost done.”
Paige pulled the glass from his paw and downed the last quarter, and a gurgling noise came from the straw as she sucked up the last bits. She handed the glass back to him and let her head fall onto the pillow.
“How long before this takes effect?” she asked.
“Should kick in in about twenty minutes.” Dewey rose into the air and flitted to the door. “I’m just going to clean up the kitchen. Try to relax until the slime kicks in.”
“Slime?” Paige questioned.
“Yeah, slime. That’s what it’s called.”
“Of course it is,” Paige said as she stared at the red wallpapered walls.
Cooking utensils banged around as Dewey tidied the kitchen.
Paige flicked her gaze around the space as she tried to focus on anything but the pain. Her gaze fell onto an ornate gold frame, containing a picture of a purple dragon with spikes from nose to neck.
Paige narrowed her eyes at it. “Hey, Dewey?” she shouted.
“Yeah? You okay?” He hovered in the door, wiping his paws on a dish towel.
“Yeah, I’m okay. Who is this?” Paige jabbed a finger at the photo.
Dewey floated over and picked up the frame, then he studied it for a moment before putting it down again. “My mother, Imogen.”
“Oh. She’s pretty.”
