“Don’t worry,” I say, even though I know he can’t understand me. I turn back to my companion, and find him watching the two of us with a grim expression.
“I’ll go for the packs, then we can leave the pass.”
I nod, the boy squeezing my hand as Vann returns to where I carelessly threw my belongings.
Lorien remains silent.
I kneel and speak softly, “It’s all right. You’re safe now.”
He looks at me, confused, and we wait for Vann to return.
When he does, I explain that the child seems uneasy. Instead ofresponding, Vann crouches beside him and speaks in the unfamiliar language, his tone calm and steady.
The boy listens, still unsure, but the fear in his posture softens.
After a brief exchange, Vann glances at me and, in a gentle motion, scoops the child into his arms, murmuring a few more comforting words as we begin to walk. The child relaxes, though his grip on Vann’s tunic remains tight.
In the distance, the air blows with an unnatural gust. It begins to move faster, with a rumbling sound like thunder.
“Mierda, is that a storm?” I ask Vann.
He is already looking at the sky, confused. It is growing darker, but there aren’t clear signs of clouds.
“Perhaps. We’ll go fast, and try to find his parents,” Vann responds, the boy burying his head into his shoulder.
The noise comes and goes for the next hour. I watch as Lorien looks to the sky, worried.
“Is he all right?” I ask Vann.
Vann asks the boy, and he just nods.
“Where would his parents be, I wonder,” I continue.
Vann conveys that, too, then takes a sharp breath after the boy’s response.
“He says he doesn’t want to tell you, for fear you will be angry.”
The shock on my face must be apparent, because Vann laughs. I am not scary, nor do I grow angry quickly.
Then a few images of blood and gore flit into my mind. I push them away, soothing myself by knowing that I’m notusuallydangerous—and not during my waking hours.
“Relax, Firelocks. My powers of translation are not so strong; he probably meant me.”
I flash Vann a small smile, and we continue. It takes a good hour before we reach the end of the passage, and I am itching to find this child’s parents.
What is he doing out after dark?
A dozen other scenarios play out in my mind, from a runaway child, to traveling caravans accidentally leaving the little one behind.
Vann shoots me a sharp look as we exit the pass, as if to say,Now what?
Another sharp gust of wind sweeps through the air, and with it, it carries the sound of wings beating.
A shadow moves above us, sweeping across the jagged cliffs. Then a massive scaled form descends. Atop it is a dark-skinned elf cloaked in furs, his silhouette framed against the early evening.
My eyes go wide and my heart races.
A…dragon?