Bastian drew in a deep breath of salty air. It was already windy, and he could smell the storm that was coming, though the sky above was still clear and sunny.

A sensible dragon would be taking cover, going to ground while the winds were too high to fly in. It was the sort of day to curl in one’s hoard and count precious things, while the weather became wet and unfriendly.

But Bastian was no kind of sensible dragon.

In human form, he passed the empty pool, double-checking that the lounge chairs had all been secured and the towel cabinets were shut and latched. The bottles of sunscreen and lotion had all been stashed away, and the kickboards and pool floats were all behind closed doors. The sign declaring no lifeguard was on duty was already up, flapping noisily in the rising wind. Bastian grinned at it. A storm, rare here, meant a day off, and he was going to make the most of it.

He walked along the strangely bare deck. The few guests, like dragons, would be tucked away in their safe cottages, avoiding the wind and weather. As for the other staff, Bastian had no idea where they were, but he was just as glad not to encounter them and have to explain where he was going.

The steps down to the beach were littered with loose sand and Bastian shifted as he walked down them. One step was a sandaled foot, the next, a claw that spanned three of the white concrete steps. He may not be the largest dragon from his family, but he was far from the smallest. His scales gleamed green and gold, faceted like jewels.

Bastian paused at the lifeguard tower, taking a moment to appreciate the familiar view. The beach swept to either side, white sand stretching to meet sapphire water. The little beach bar was shuttered up, all the chairs safely inside. The dock was empty; the resort owner, Scarlet, had not replaced the boat that had been destroyed the week before.

He swiveled his head to look behind him. He was tall enough in dragon form to look easily onto the tiled pool deck, a useful trait as a lifeguard that enabled him to watch both swimming areas. Above the pool deck, the vacant bar deck looked down, and above that the restaurant deck. The steep structure of the Costa Rican island meant the resort was built in tiers, and it gleamed white in the sun.

The palm trees framing the pool were beginning to whip in the building wind, and Bastian could see the dark clouds beginning to gather behind the crest of the hill above him.

A dragon face wasn’t arranged for grinning, but Bastian’s inner human certainly was.

He had the day for himself.

He had the wide ocean for himself.

He walked down by the dock, where the ocean fell away more quickly than the swimming and sunbathing area and he could wade in and begin swimming almost at once.

At first, the swimming was awkward, clawed feet and powerful legs were not arranged for paddling, and wings, even tucked tightly against his side, dragged on the waves and wind.

Then Bastian sucked in a deep breath and dived, pulling all his limbs against his body and letting his massive tail propel him fully under.

No longer divided between air and ocean, he cut through the water as if he’d been born there, not a creature of fire, but of saltwater.

He had to surface near the breakwater; it grew too shallow there to stay beneath the waves, and he climbed over the rocks and paused, shaking water droplets off his big head and spreading his massive wings before he tucked them against his body again and returned to the element he preferred.

Fish scattered before him, and a pod of dolphins gave him wide berth, but Bastian paid them no mind. His human had eaten well from the resort kitchen and he had no need for legless prey this fine morning.

He was on a different kind of hunt, instead, and as he drifted along the sandy ocean floor, still holding his breath, he closed his eyes and let other senses take over.

At first, there was nothing, then, like distant musical notes, he felt the first tingle of treasure.

His lungs cried out for air, and Bastian oriented himself and returned to the surface to refill. However he loved the water, he still required air, like any dragon.

He dived down in the direction of the pull once he had sucked in a big breath.

The bit of treasure gave itself easily up to his big claws, digging down through the deep sand, and Bastian did a lightning fast shift so he could tuck it into his human form’s belt pouch and shift back before he opened his senses to the next one.

Each time he returned to the surface for air, the waves and wind were rougher and rougher, once even breaking directly into his face as he was sucking in his breath.

He coughed and sputtered, thinking wryly that his family would feel vindicated if he died by drowning. That alone made him stubbornly decide to stay out in the storm. He floated at the surface, bobbing on the giant swells as he refilled his lungs and prepared to dive again.

A sudden wave of treasure sense broke over him more strongly than the wave of saltwater had. It dwarfed the little tingles that had called him earlier, and Bastian almost swamped himself responding to it.

There was a shark, he realized, as he dove back into the water; then he was surprised to sense another through the waves, until he realized that beneath the treasure sense was something else: blood.

He was not quite as fast as a shark, but Bastian put every ounce of his swimming strength into cutting the distance between his goal and himself.

By the time he got there, swimming up from beneath, there were three sharks circling what Bastian realized was a half-deflated dinghy, adrift without power and reeking of treasure and the iron tang of blood.

He could not roar underwater, nor flame the sharks, but he could growl, and the water took the vibrations of his claim to the interlopers.

The sharks circled one last time in confusion, then retreated some distance, continuing to swirl just out of his reach.

Bastian had no interest in them, and considered them no threat. Even without flame, he was a dragon, many times their size and strength, and no stranger to the ocean. He had claws like swords, and his jewel-faceted scales were solid protection against their teeth.

He surfaced to inspect his spoils, refilling his lungs.

The sad, wilted dinghy had clearly taken a beating, and it was being tossed on the wild waves, making it difficult to get close. Bastian’s treasure sense was threatening to overwhelm him. There was something precious and rare here.

When a wave washed over the dinghy, sloshing into the bed of the boat and what lay there, instinct made Bastian open his mouth and challenge the ocean itself with a roar. This was his, his treasure, his to crown his hoard with.

The uncaring ocean answered by slapping another wave at him, driving the half-limp boat up against his chest.

Finally, Bastian could look into the boat itself, and he dismissed the lurid pink suitcase that was deforming the bottom of the boat without a second thought; his treasure was not in the heavy luggage. It was the figure, a limp woman wearing something flimsy and soaking wet, plastered to every lush curve. Her long dark hair was loose around her shoulders like a cloak. She was face-down in the boat, barely breathing, and even in the storm-dark, Bastian could see that blood had dyed the water in the boat dark crimson.

He carefully rolled her over, using a dragon claw like a surgical tool, and her face was the most beautiful golden color that he had ever seen.

This is our mate, he realized in wonder.

His human added anxiously, She’s been shot!

Bastian could see that she had a wound, still oozing sharp-smelling blood, just above her heart. His human was alarmed at the amount of the blood she must have lost so far, but Bastian only knew that she was every treasure he had ever sought, and that he must take her safely to his hoard and give her everything that he had.

Another wave threatened to rip the sinking boat away from him, just as the clouds above opened up and began to drench them in rain.

Bastian snatched the woman up into his forearms as the tortured boat began to sink, and his human helpfully suggested how to keep her above the water without jostling her injury further.

We don’t know if that bullet is still in her, his human warned him, but Bastian didn’t need a reminder to treat her gently.

He couldn’t fly with her, not through weather like this, so he continued on his back, using his tail to propel them. Here, along the surface, their progress was agonizing slow, and waves broke over them several times, washing away the blood as they traveled. Bastian felt like he could hear a song at intervals, low beneath the roar of the storm.

It was hours of this unpleasant travel, feeling the weak beat of her heart against the scales of his chest, before Shifting Sands came into view once more. Bastian lifted her into one forearm as his back legs found purchase under him. The wavebreak was as tall as he was, but he wrapped his wings forward around her protectively and carried her carefully to shore.

The wind was finally beginning to die down as he got her up to the shelter of the bar. Tex was there, taking stock of the storm damage. If he was surprised to see Bastian away from the beach in dragon form, that was nothing to the surprise on his face when Bastian slowly lowered his prize onto the floor, bleeding and wet.