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Saga of Steel and Bone (Ashes & Phoenix)
Chapter 11, Dragonlings (And a Sneak Peak!)

Chapter 11, Dragonlings (And a Sneak Peak!)

A keening cry comes from She-Dragon as her one time mate falls to his death.

Why? Her soul cries out in everything but word.

My limbs shake with a weakness I’ve never before felt, even with Wolfsbane or silver.

I ask the Imperial for something I am loath to... but I have no choice until my body recovers from whatever The Coward did to me. The Imperial changes to his human form, gingerly picking me up as if I were but a pup. My body spasms in his hands, and he looks down at me in concern. I close my eyes tightly, unable to move. The ring of panthers part before us as the Eldertrees before Joshua.

She-Dragon meets my gaze. Such anguish... it's nearly indescribable.

The Imperial lays me beside her enormous head. Her moaning keen touches places deep in my heart I thought lost. I reach out my paw, the small movement causing my heart to pound and breath to catch when pain stabs me. The Imperial gently eases me over the last few inches so my paw can touch her snout.

I’m bombarded with her emotions. Pain, horror, relief, and a deep, aching sorrow that one whom she loved could not feel the same in return. I take her feeling and give back what I can, showing her the courage it took to defend those she didn’t even know. I show her my respect and my joy at her gentleness and love, thanking her for the joys of flying for the short time we were in the air and for defending us against her mate.

She lowers her head and nuzzles into my shoulder, hiding a minuscule portion of her nose in my shaggy mane. I command my neck muscles and they obey just enough for me to lick her snout before the shaking muscles give way to land uncomfortably on the ground.

She makes a clicking sound that reminds me of chickens when they would see a hawk. I can feel her horror of the pain causing my body to tremble in anguish. She does something, and the pain eases a minuscule amount.

Don’t ever do that again, Cynic pants in my mind, his voice soft and weak.

I close my eyes, my exhaustion pulling at me, and she trills, sending me an image of resting beneath her wing. I know no more.

~~~

When I wake, a wing is covering me and dragon breath sends tendrils of wind through my fur. One large eye blinks open languidly, and She-Dragon sniffs me before pulling the wing out from over us. I wince at the wounds covering her wing and snout, but they are scabbed over and healing.

I wiggle each of my paws to ensure the paralyzing weakness has lifted.

Sunlight warms my fur. A few hours have passed if my internal clock is any help. I push to my feet, the aches and pains coming back with a vengeance.

The Imperial and Flash come over, questions raising their brows I don’t wish to answer. Most of the Were are still in cat form, nursing wounds that would reopen should they shift to human.

The dragon nudges my shoulder, and I almost topple over from the gentle pressure. She pulls back and sets a wing upon the ground with an image. I smile, forgetting smiles are not as inviting in wolf form.

I mount her wing. She moves it level so that I am able to walk the rest of the way to nestle between her shoulder blades. My legs shake with exhaustion despite the rest and I tenderly move so I can lie upon her back with my nose between my paws. The dragon cranes her head around to snort in my face. I cough at the smokey, sweet breath that reminds me of the pipe Pa likes to smoke.

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I smile. “Thanks for that.” I know she hears, even if she doesn’t know the words to respond. Her good-natured humor comes over the bond with a warmth that makes my heart lighter.

She turns to walk casually inside the deep black cave, sending a fireball into the cave wall. A sticky substance on the ends of limbs twice as tall as I am bursts into flame. She spits into each as they come into view, lighting up grey stone walls and packed dirt beneath our feet. The walls are a smooth, light sandstone, while the ceiling high above is blackened with soot. The panthers hesitantly follow behind us, keeping a wide berth.

“It’s ok,” I send to the Imperial. Even my internal voice leaks exhaustion.

“Your Highness, why are we following a master of death into her lair?” he asks, as if questioning my sanity.

A huff of humor passes my lips. “Possibly because she saved our tails. Besides, she’s protecting people back here. They might need help.”

“What?” I wince as he yells into my mind. “How do you know this?” he finishes with only slightly less volume.

“She can communicate. Has she not done so with you?”

“Until now, I didn’t know dragons so much as had horns. Of course I didn’t know they could speak.”

“They communicate in images and emotions. Much like moving paintings with the emotions of the artist set within the colors.”

We pass an enormous cavern with a large pool that glows from within. The rocks along the bottom seem to be some sort of expensive gem that gleams an emerald green. It twinkles as she lights another large torch hanging over the dragon-sized pool.

My eyes follow it as we pass by and enter into a smaller cavern, but not by much. Within is a comfortable array of dark grey scales turned into nests. Three enormous nests large enough to hold a dragon.

The first is in front, where the scales are strewn about in a clutter of chaos. The second is larger, shaped perfectly into an oval. A small but comfortable cocoon with what looks like animal fur within. It might be smaller than the others, but it would still hold many of me. The other two would hold forty or fifty of me. Comfortably.

My eyes finally catch movement. The smallest nest in the back corner has three small forms. What I thought to be animal fur are actually three small dragonlings. They are perhaps only three times my size, with cute brown and black eyes set in angular faces. They have fur sprouting from their neck down that is slowly being replaced in certain places with black scales. Scratch that.

I nudge a scale on my ride aside with my nose, and underneath I find the same soft, downy brown fur. Huh. The scales grow over the fur, much like a second layer of protection.

The three little ones look like oversized bunnies running around in lizard shaped bodies with wings.

The largest keens to her mother, and she trills back. A sad but happy song of love and loss; sorrow and joy. At the sound, the three bound up to their mother, running their jaws along hers in a sign of affection.

I feel like an imposter in a touching family moment. But She-Dragon knows this. She drops a wing and I have to move swiftly to regain my balance. The three dragonlings clamber up the wing with happy trills and countless nudges as they each fight to reach the top first. A low grumble from mom sends them all ducking their heads with a small chirp from each. I chuckle inwardly. Momma reprimands are apparently universal.

They climb up slower afterwards.

I don’t think about what is going to happen once they reach me. I’m too enthralled by the new world the dragon is allowing me to glimpse.

At last, they reach her back, but the top stops dead in her tracks as she detects me. A low hiss comes from her, but a sharp chirp from She-Dragon puts an end to that. The second bumps into the first, putting the little thing that is three times my size within paw lengths. She freezes, as if frightened.

Then I realize she is. Deathly afraid. Her eyes are wide and glowing. Then the third dragonling bumps the second, who bumps the first, which sends the first bumping into me with a loud, shrill scream. I quickly back peddle so that she doesn’t squash me.

I stop as she scrapes to a stop; nose to nose with my snout. I decide to test fate once more. I lick her nose then rub my jaw along hers as I saw them showing affection to their mother. Totally demeaning for a wolf to act like a cat, but who is going to tell?

A flowing cacophony of chirps come from the mother, and I feel her amusement. I stop and glare at her. What did she think was going to happen? That I was going to get eaten?

The thought stops me in my tracks. A prickling of cold fear tingles along my scalp. A soft huff from the mother draws my eyes to hers. They are soft and compassionate, reminding me of her gentle soul that drew me in the first place. My instincts say I can trust her.

And when all else fails, my instincts are hardly ever wrong.

Now to see about freeing some folk who have been waiting a very long time.