~~The steel sword seemed to weigh fifty pounds in my hand. My thin fingers clenched around the leather-wrapped oaken hilt, slippery from the sweat on my palms. This was it. So close—I couldn’t believe I hadn’t been afraid before now.
 The wide crevice split the ground at the edge of the forest, a stark contrast to the smooth grass around it. The grass died out around its corners, giving way to craggy pink rock that dropped into a black toothy abyss. Even from twenty feet away, I could feel the heat rising from the opening. The heat of a body. A huge, fearsome, battle-hardened, unreasoning body.
 I slid to the ground like a stalking lion—or maybe a submissive puppy; I wasn’t sure—and looked to my partner. He and his wolfhound had assumed positions similar to mine. His stocky elfish body appeared even smaller next to the muscular bulk of the dog, but I knew better than to underestimate him. He’d taught me a lot throughout our partnership, and proven himself to be quick, strong, and brave. I dared to hope that I’d taught him something about not being a womanizer, especially towards me.
 Slowly, carefully, we crept through the grass and dwindling undergrowth towards the crevice. We were downwind, of course, not certain how refined this creature’s sense of smell was. The grass was damp against my hand. The tip of the sword dragged across the ground with a soft wshhhh, wshhhh sound. A large dog-rose bush was ahead of me; I slid left and curled into a crouch behind it, careful not to rustle the leaves. One thing we knew for sure was that these things had excellent hearing. My partner slid next to me, the dog right behind him. We huddled inches apart, perfectly silent.
 My partner spelled to me with the universal hand-motion alphabet. Ok?
 Everything as planned, I spelled quickly. We’d become incredibly fluent in hand-motions.
 No. Are you ok?
 I was a little stunned. He’d always been the stoic one, the suck-it-up one, the one who wouldn’t give you sympathy if you paid him in silver. Yes, fine, I half-lied.
 Ready?
 Ready.
 He checked his weapon, a spiked steel disc on a chain, one last time. Then came the most terrifying moment of every job: He signaled the dog and sent it creeping out to make the first move.
 My heart thudded against all its neighboring organs, as if beating them into submission. The dog padded almost noiselessly up to the crevice. Meanwhile, my partner crawled away from me, still skirting the edge of the forest, still hiding, but leaving me on my own.
 The dog was almost at the drop into the crevice. I tried to wipe the sweat from my hands, but the thick scales of my armor offered no absorption.
 My partner was well over fifteen feet away now. He no longer spelled to me—his eyes were on the dog.
 The wolfhound stopped at the edge of the crevice. It knew better than to peer inside. Without second thoughts, as it had been trained, it threw back its head and let out a piercing “Yip-yip bark ahooooooooooo!!”
 The battle had begun.
 From the depths of hell came forth a monstrous head. Blunt snout, twisted spines jutting out of the chin. Warped, protruding jaw. Black teeth between thick beaklike lips. Giant dull purple eyes. Uncountable distorted horns projecting from the back of the sharp skull, and the whole thing covered in lumpy puke-colored scales, set atop a crooked and too-skinny neck.
 Dragon.
 Its terrifying gaze fixed on the dog, the disturber of its sleep. A twisted talon shot out at it. The dog jumped aside and began to run around the crevice, barking and howling like a thousand demons were on its tail. The dragon’s expression remained unperturbed. Its head twisted around, watching the hound run, waiting to strike out again.
 From the bushes I heard the familiar battle cry of my partner. The words changed every time, but it was always the same gravelly voice and heavy accent, bellowing out his insult of the day: “Kill the fire-bellied, infant-snatching, gold-snitching, bone-belching, maiden-munching wyrm!”
 My partner ran straight at the dragon, swinging his flail and screaming. There was a huge grin across his face. A nervous grin, I now knew. The dragon watched him calmly, the beaked lips seeming to be pulled back in an unconcerned smile.
 The jagged disc flew out at that special unprotected spot under every dragon’s chin, slicing open a painful but not mortal gash. Black blood trickled down the plates on its neck. All of a sudden the purple eyes were on fire, and the black mouth came open in a ragged, deafening “Raaaurrrghhhh!!” A black tongue darted in and out between the jagged teeth, spilling hot gray saliva everywhere.
 My partner dashed in circles around the dragon, running in the direction opposite the dog. All the while he screamed insults, most of which were incomprehensible, but it didn’t matter because the dragon didn’t understand our language anyway. His cape flapped behind him, both the sight and the sound being incredibly irritating to dragons. And the dog was still galloping and barking as well. The dragon’s infuriated head spun around and around, snarling, spitting smoke and flinging foamy saliva all over.
 It was almost my time. But not yet.
 My partner jumped at the dragon while it was following the path of the dog. Grabbing one of the spines along the ridge of its backbone, he began to climb up its back, whirling his flail all the while. It spun in a U-shape against the dragon’s sides. Mostly it bounced off the scales, but sometimes it would slice down between them, leaving stinging gashes all up the scaly, deformed body.
 This was the final straw. The dragon’s head whirled around, jaw unhinged, mouth ready and willing to engulf my partner in one crunchy bite.
 Now.
 I was on my feet sprinting at the dragon, sword held high over my head, before it even consciously registered. It was too distracted by my partner to pay much attention to me.
 Two ways to kill a dragon, I remembered him saying. And only two.
 My feet thudded against the ground. The dog’s wailing pounded in my ears, along with the defiant bellowing of my partner.
 One is between the front legs, through the heart, he said.
 I dared not look up. The sight of my partner nearly inside the bottomless maw might make me lose my courage, not to mention my lunch.
 And the other, he said, is right between the eyes.
 My feet left the ground. I felt myself fly heavenward, into the mouth of death. As the dragon realized I was the real danger, it turned its head straight at me and I swung my sword down. Right between the eyes.
 But then it went wrong.
 The blade bounced off the bridge of the dragon’s snout. Clong! I had misaimed. And now I was flying through midair, with no time to aim and land another strike. In other words, I was dead.
 I landed directly in the dragon’s mouth, on top of its wet squishy tongue in a pool of hot spit. I nearly lost my sword down the blackness of its tunnel-like throat, but by some miracle managed to keep my hold on the hilt. The dragon tilted back its head, trying to gulp me down. With no true lips, it couldn’t swallow, but gravity did that for it. I grabbed hold of one of the black teeth. It was grainy and disgusting , but I clenched my jaw and held on. Fortunately for me it hadn’t closed its mouth yet.
 Right then, it did. I must’ve jinxed it. The mouth shut on top of me with a clomp, shutting out all light and, more importantly, air. I was swallowed up in a scalding ocean of saliva, gooshing around me, getting under my armor and sliming against my skin. Still I clenched my jaw and held on. The sword almost slipped out of my hand again, but I gripped the hilt so tightly that my knuckles burned.
 I was running out of air. I had to do something fast. Straining to lift the sword, I positioned the tip on the roof of the dragon’s mouth. Never completely letting go of it, I pressed the heels of both my palms against the pommel and thrust upward.
 The palate gave way to the blade. I heard a crunch and a tearing sound, and all of a sudden the mouth sprang open and I was falling, still inside. Air rushed in. I took a breath. But I couldn’t do anything about falling except curl up and brace myself for the end.
 The dragon hit the ground. The upper jaw clamped back down on me, but the tongue cushioned me so it didn’t hurt too much. Rolling over, I pushed my hands up against a still-solid piece of the palate. However, from my position I was unable to lift it.
 Suddenly light spilled in on me. I peered out through the jaws and saw my partner peering in at me. “Are you okay?”
 I didn’t want to open my mouth in such a disgusting place, so I just nodded shakily. The adrenaline had abruptly come on, leaving me shivering.
 He propped the jaws open with the handle of his flail and reached both hands out to me. I took them. He pulled me up against the front teeth and let me climb out.
 Crawling onto the grass, I stayed rigid for about three seconds and then lost it, flopping onto my stomach in quivering exhaustion. My partner knelt over me until I got control of myself. With great effort, I shifted my arms under me and lifted my front half up, then shifted my back half until I was sitting, albeit hunched over.
 My partner stared me in the face, his expression something like awe but something else too. “You are amazing,” he said softly.
 “Th-Thank you?” I was shocked.
 He unfastened his cape, whipped it around and handed it to me. “Here. Clean up.”
 I fingered it uneasily. “Are you sure you want me to use your cape?”
 “I can always get a new one,” he said. “You almost died.”
 I used a corner of the cape to wipe the saliva and blood from my face. “We’re dragonslayers,” I replied. “What did you expect?”
 He was quiet as I cleared the gunk away from the rest of my face and neck. I tried to dry my hair, but the stuff was thick and gluey; I would definitely have to take a thorough bath once we got out of here.
 Then I noticed the cut on his cheek. I hadn’t seen it before with all the film in front of my eyes. It was deep, a couple inches long and oozed blood. “What happened there?” I asked.
 He felt it and stifled a cringe. “Flail bounced back on me,” he muttered, his voice a lower, more familiar rasp. “Just another scar.”
 “You do have quite a collection,” I said, slightly amused. “Whereas I’m still yet to gain my first.”
 Without a word, he took hold of my right thumb and flipped my hand over. I cried out in dismay to see the deep gash that cut across it. That would definitely scar.
 I looked up at my partner. “It must’ve happened when I held on to the tooth—”
 “Can you stand up?” he asked abruptly.
 I recoiled, and shook my head to clear it. “S-Stand? Well, yes, I suppose so.”
 “Let me help you up.” He stood and offered me his hands again. I took them. He was rigid as I pulled myself up. I was much taller than him, and he had to crane his neck to peer up at me.
 “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met,” he said quietly. “No. The most amazing person I have ever met.”
 “Um, thank you?” I said, feeling my face flush.
 Before I knew what was happening, he was down on one knee. “Please marry me.”
 My jaw unhinged like the dragon’s. This was so unexpected—I’d never thought he had romantic feelings towards me, nor I him. There was nothing that had suggested this earlier. It was completely unpreceded.
 And yet, as I looked into his uncharacteristically soft eyes, I realized it wasn’t.
 We had been through so much together. Fought together. Traveled together. Shared times of poverty and wealth. Slept on the forest floor. Shared dry, dirt-covered food around a fire. Annoyed the heck out of each other. Watched the stars come out together. Threatened to kill each other. Saved each other’s lives more than once. Far more than once.
 If that wasn’t love, nothing was.