“To be honest, I don’t really want to worry,” she mused before shoving a bite between her full lips. “Everything we’ve done that scared me at first has made me feel soalive. My heart is pumping with adrenaline after waking from a lifetime’s worth of sleep. It feels nice to experience freedom despite being trapped in a solution-less purgatory.”
I cringed to hear her describe our time together as purgatory, but understood the sentiment. I knew there was no way for me to understand how waking up nameless, storyless, and lost would feel. Having power over the emotions she experienced now must be critical in her healing. I couldn’t provide her answers, so I owed her at least some degree of compromise.
“Alright, my dear. If you’re insisting, I have one request.”
“What is it?” She beamed with victorious excitement.
“Leave us time to take that walk on the beach before we leave.” I always felt it was especially alluring during fall.
Her cheeks pressed up against her eyes in a smile. “We can make that happen.”
She made happy little noises while we ate, occasionally swaying her head in a sort of dance. It was so easy to elicit a positive response from her. She had every reason to mope on my couch and fall into hysteria over the hand given to her. Yet here she was, staring up at the light filtering through speckledbranches with gleeful eyes and a sense of adventure. How could I deny her anything?
“So.” She ran her dainty hand over the pelt beneath us. “Mr. Flight Instructor, what kind of dragon will we be flying?”
“I think I’ll leave that one up to you… within reason.” I wasn’t sure what would be an unsuitable choice, but I also hadn’t thought that swimming would pose issues.
“I’ll make an effort to keep my death wish down to a minimum,” she laughed, covering her mouth to conceal the fact it was mid-bite of food.
We finished up breakfast and changed into fresh clothing. She looked pretty in the dark linen pants and loose cream blouse I picked for her. Untied strings hung over each breast, allowing the V of the neckline to gape widely. Two pebbles pushed against the fabric, showing her body’s reaction to the autumn chill. Not wanting to damage my nicer clothing, I donned denim paired with a thick brown tunic. Now that the weather had shifted and the ground was hardened and littered with forest debris, I insisted she wear shoes. Her flowy attire would leave her cold, but Faeryn insisted she would “warm up once moving”. I had my doubts.
“It’ll be winter when we get back to Virylan.” My eyes scanned the horizon for a suitable dragon while we strode through the trees. We passed several smaller species foraging, but would need to find something larger to carry us both comfortably. The larger dragons avoided the coast, likely to remain hidden from passing ships. To any sailor, this islandwould look completely unassuming—devoid of a potential bloodshed gold mine.
“Your favorite season. Will it be snowing?”
“If it isn’t once we return, it will start soon enough.” I couldn’t hide my pleasure at her remembering such a minute preference of mine. I stared at the top of her head in appreciation, watching her waves bounce with her strides.
“That’ll be nice.” She swayed in a loose, dance-like saunter. “I can’t remember the last time I saw snow… literally.” She laughed at her own amnesia, ever eager to find amusement in the unfortunate. “But I remember liking it.”
“It’s quite pretty.” I watched her hop a log more dramatically than required. “Everything turns white. The hints of purple and green that tint the town are washed away.” The snow clouds always neutralized the radioactive glint our stars cast onto the Western Continent.
“Do you mind the cold?”
“I’m not sure I experience it enough to be bothered by it.” I occasionally feltless warm, but I never truly felt what was described ascold. “I have a furnace burning beneath my ribs and can always start a fire.”
“That’s got to be nice.” She looked at her own pink palms. “I wish I had something unique about me like everybody else here.”
“Your fae status isn’t sufficient?” I crooked an eyebrow playfully. True to her native “Earth” lore, I had been her slave from the first moment I heard her say my name.
There was a rustling sound above us, causing leaves to rain down onto our heads. I looked up to see what caused the shower as Faeryn pulled a twig from her hair. A black dragon perched on the lowest branch of a tall purple-barked tree. Itscratched at the bark with its front claw, searching. This dragon had two long, thick horns spiraling back on either side of its head. Its long legs were meaty and muscular, while its front legs were nimble with clawed hands at the end. Its tail was thick and adorned with jagged slate spikes.
“Oh!” Faeryn exclaimed. “How about that one?” Her hand shot up to point at the creature, which had turned its attention in our direction. Its head cocked curiously. “He’s perfect! Just big enough for the two of us.”
“They’re quite high,” I muttered. The dragon wasn’t even on the lowest of the already high branches. I attempted my ancestral call to the dragon, not hopeful for a response. Eye contact was critical to establishing the relationship between our species, and from here, I wouldn’t be distinguishable from others. It was the difference between an acquaintance by association and a complete stranger. By knowing I was a Pyran, they wouldn’t knowme, but would know I wassafe. Looking into their eyes communicated “we have a history” as a basis for trust. With that lacking, it unsurprisingly stayed put, fluffing its scales to appear larger in a cautious response.
“If it doesn’t work, that’s okay. We can find another one,” she said, disappointment coloring her tone.
That absolutely wouldn’t do. If Faeryn wanted this one, I’d get this one. I let a large puff of air out of my cheeks and rolled my shoulders back—this was going to take some effort. “Give me some time.”
I began my climb up the leathery ripples of vines. The playful creature hung its head over the side of the branch, watching me fight my way to it. I could hear Faeryn reassuring me this was not that important from below, but I ignored her. I was more than capable of granting this request.
Once finally up to the lowest branch—hardlylowat all—I was close enough to lock eyes with the dragon. I repeated my command clearly, and the beast spread its massive wings. They unfurled to the width of the tree itself, thick webbing black as tar stretching between charcoal bones. Perfectly strong for our needs.
Much to my chagrin, it kicked up to glide to the next highest branch. I was confident we had locked eyes that time, so this misbehavior was purely for amusement. I followed its climb. My third attempt at the command elicited an acknowledging roar before the beast descended at my request.
Faeryn stepped back from its height, likely not realizing the sheer size of her selection from so far below. Only as tall as its forearm, she looked up fearlessly, the wind of its wings blowing her taupe hair over her shoulders. It sat on its hind legs and rested one bent knuckle on the ground while its other arm curled to its body. The dragon dipped its head just enough to confirm it was accepting a role of submission, for the time being. Comforted by the desired behavior, I began my descent to join.
“Wow,” she breathed when I made it back to her side. She hadn’t disengaged its stare for a second. With her nose turned to the sky, she looked adorably brave.
