“Fucking hell,”I curse under my breath as she follows Theren..
We weave between the rocky outcrops, avoiding loose rock. Up close, I can see how the dragons rest within their nests. Their massive bodies are curled into a ball, and their breath causes the embers within to glow and fade with each exhalation.
Arlet stops abruptly.
“Are you well, human?” Theren asks.
I follow her gaze and my stomach tightens.
A dragon lies barely a dozen paces ahead, separated from the others, its body curled in a nest of dark stone and shattered eggshells.
“That dragon is… beautiful,” she exclaims
Its golden scales shimmer, and its wings folded are neatly at either side, but its eyes cause me to pause.
Open. Watching.
It isn’t sleeping. It knows we’re here. And yet, it doesn’t move.
“This is Seraph,” Theren says. Then he tilts his head to the side, making atskingsound.
The dragon watches us with something between curiosity andpatience. Its nostrils flare, inhaling, as if committing our scent to memory.
Then, a soft voice speaks.
“She doesn’t fly anymore.”
We all turn, and I spot a small figure stepping from behind a nearby boulder. Brown, wild hair, bright gleaming eyes.
“Lorien!” Theren laughs. “Your father told you not to sneak out today.”
The boy grins, squaring his small shoulders with the kind of bravado only children can muster. “I wanted to see our visitors.”
“Lorien!” Arlet repeats, drawing her attention from the dragon, and seeing the boy. “Hello again.”
The child is confused, but Theren translates for him as he scoops him up, balancing his nephew on his shoulders.
“You sure you want to stay?” he asks.
Lorien nods.
“Very well. But we must be sure your father doesn’t find out.”
Arlet’s attention goes back to the dragon, and I jerk my chin toward the beast. "What do you mean, it doesn't fly?"
Lorien glances at the dragon, his voice quieter now. “It is a mama dragon. Her babies died.”
Theren casts him a weary glance. Then he clarifies, “We have a problem with hunting birds. They like to eat dragon eggs, and this past mating season was… difficult. We have not been controlling their growth as we should. Seraph killed the thieving creatures and put the eggshells back. She is mourning.”
The words settle like a stone in my chest.
I turn to Arlet, who looks expectant. I hesitate. But I can’t lie to her again.
When I finish the story, she looks as though she might cry. Instead, she chooses to be brave.
“May I touch her?” she asks Theren.
He purses his lips. “She does not let others touch her lately. But you can try. Put your hand up, and approach. If she doesn’t look away, it should be fine.”