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Chapter
Seven
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Within
a few days, Alvaranox began to adjust to the new rhythms of his life.
His recuperation was a frustrating, arduous process and he spent much
of it laying amidst his bedding. In the mornings he awoke, ate a bit
of breakfast, and limped his way to his copse of trees. Nylah and
Kirra attended his wounds, cleaning and re-bandaging them once a day.
That in and of itself was a laborious process as the dragon’s
injuries were still very fresh and quite tender. Though the women did
all they could to minimize his pain it was still an unpleasant
undertaking.
When
Alvaranox grew weary of laying around in his home all day, he hobbled
out into the fields beyond his sleeping chambers. Much as he hated
being stared at it, he did enjoy the chance to lay in the sun for a
little while. And the guards made sure to keep the crowds at a
distance so they did not bother him. The dragon was a bit surprised
to see how many people showed up every day as if to keep track of his
recovery. He was also pleasantly taken aback to find them delivering
gifts to him. Mostly food and treats from pungent and flavorful
smoked fish, to iced cakes and honey rolls. A few even delivered
bouquets of flowers or potted plants. The dragon had no idea what the
hell he was expected to do with those, but Nylah and Kirra set them
up around his home.
By
the end of the first week he was starting to feel a little better.
His wounds were mending at a good rate, and the pain had lessened.
Nylah and Kirra had put together some simple slings for his foreleg.
They used thick loops of cloth bandage to hold the dragon’s leg up,
and secured it by tying them off around the base of his stout
green-scaled neck. It was not the most comfortable thing for the
dragon to wear and he felt a little humiliated to be seen with it on.
Yet he bore it with only a few complaints because it allowed him to
hobble about on his own. Better he look foolish than have to ask for
assistance.
The
dragon’s fever gradually abated and his strength began to return.
The herbs he took in the morning left him with a little extra energy,
though even that was easily expended. After breakfast Alvaranox
sometimes spent a little while walking around in the lands beyond his
home. It helped him to burn off that extra energy, gave him something
to do, and also ensured the blood would continue to flow properly
through his wounded limbs and organs. Nylah and Kirra kept very close
watch on him at all times, and never let him wander too far.
As
the fever slowly broke and his strength slowly returned so too did
the dragon’s appetite. When it was clear his stomach could handle
his meals, Kirra began to bring him a bit more to eat each day. The
two woman mixed up a new batch of herbs for him with every meal. The
mixtures varied a bit by time of day. After breakfast the medicine
gave the dragon some extra energy while keeping his pain levels down.
The herbs after lunch were to help his body mend, though they also
made him a little drowsy. Those he took in the evening made the
cleaning of his wounds less uncomfortable. They also helped him
slumber deeply through the night.
Alvaranox
got into the habit of taking short naps after lunch. They alleviated
the drowsiness without preventing him from sleeping well at night.
Truth be known it was not long before the dragon was fed up with
limping, fed up with dozing off all the time and sick of being in
various amounts of pain all day long. He felt as though the barrel in
which he was cooped up was growing smaller by the day. No longer was
he simply trapped in Asterryl, now he was stuck inside his sleeping
chamber and occasionally the fields around it.
In
the mornings he made a point to visit Stupid Fish. Though it had not
rained in over a week, he made sure Kirra’s attendants kept Stupid
Fish’s trough filled with fresh water from the lake. Alvaranox
lowered his head to the trough, watching the fat, silvery fish lazily
drift about.
Under
his breath, Alvaranox whispered to the water as though the fish could
understand him. “I think my barrel is nearly as small as yours,
Stupid Fish.” The dragon tossed his head. The movement cast a
shadow over the water, and the startled fish bolted around in circles
a few times. Water boiled where his tail nearly broke the surface.
Alvaranox chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. At least we’re still alive
though, right? …Survivors, you and I. No matter what they throw at
us, no matter how deep they cut us, we just keep breathing.”
Alvaranox
settled upon his haunches. The white-cloth sling kept his foreleg
snug against his body. With his free paw, he dropped a batch of grain
into the fish’s oversized, oblong barrel. Stupid Fish soon glided
towards the sinking pellets, probing at them with long, silver
whiskers. The dragon chuckled. The fish always investigated his food
that way first. As if he didn’t know by now just what he was being
fed. One by one, the fish began to suck up the bits of grain. When
they were all gone, the fish rose to the surface, big black eyes
shifting back and forth. A few whiskers broke the surface of the
water and flicked about before splashing back down.
“More?
Alright, alright.” The dragon scooped up another pawful of grain
with his free paw and dumped it into the trough. “As if you’re
not fat enough already.” Then Alvaranox peered down at his own
bandaged body. With the bandages affixed by resin seemingly
everywhere, his green scales resembled poorly patched up armor. “If
I don’t get to start flying again soon, I’m going to end up just
as fat as you, Stupid Fish.”
“About
time to head back and take your nap, isn’t it?” Kirra asked as
she walked up towards the dragon. She set a hand upon one of the
copper pipes that ran from the rain collection funnel down to the
nearby trough. “Wouldn’t want to wear yourself out.”
“…Just
on cue.” The dragon slowly eased up to three paws, and at Kirra’s
confused look, he smirked at her. “Don’t give me that look. I
know you’re trying to fatten me up just like the fish.”
“You’ve
got a ways to go before you’re half as fat as that fish. If you
feed him much more grain I think he’s going to pop.” Kirra moved
to peer in at the fish, who waved his whiskers at her.
“If
the fish pops we shall have to build a fire around his barrel and
make stew,” Alvaranox said, smirking as he began to limp back home.
“That’s
horrid,” Kirra exclaimed, though she couldn’t help laughing.
“Besides, you’d miss your…” She paused just before she said
the P-Word again. “…Fish.”
Alvaranox
glared at her a moment. “Smoothly done.”
It
was not long before Alvaranox had returned home, eaten some lunch,
and settled down into his soft things again. Nylah and Kirra draped a
few of his softer blankets across his body, and left the dragon to
his nap. Before he dozed off, Alvaranox felt both smug and
humiliated. An odd combination even for a dragon. The smugness came
from having his every need catered to as he felt a dragon should. The
humiliation came from the fact that he was only getting those needs
catered to because he was too wounded to properly take care of
himself. Made him feel more like some toddling hatchling than a
powerful dragon in his own right.
As
he napped, Alvaranox dreamt in vivid colors. His dreams were often
that way, especially when they were not influenced by the collar.
Surreal and bright, streams of images that played through his mind
like interconnected stories. One dream continually dissolved into the
next. Each story felt so vibrant and important for the moments in
which it lasted. It seemed a shame each scene would soon melt away
and be forever forgotten as the next moment of dream became all he
knew.
Alvaranox
awoke thinking of females. Not that the dragon did not often think of
females. Bound to Asterryl or not, he was still a male. Drifting on
hazy layers of half consciousness, Alvaranox tried to recall the
dream. Yes, there was definitely a female dragon involved. He tried
to focus on her, but the images were already falling apart. She was
blue, he thought. He liked blue. Or was she purple? Perhaps blue but
painted with the lavender brush of twilight. Yes, he liked that idea.
She had a nice tail. Had she been teasing him in the dream? Lifting
it a little for him? Naughty thing.
Still
drowsy, Alvaranox’s thoughts drifted to the last female who’d
teased him like that. A lovely female, about his age, her scales
shades of blue and lilac. She’d been his mate for a short time. Had
that been the female he’d dreamt of? It frustrated him that his
memories sometimes became as fuzzy as his dreams. He’d taken her to
his little island refuge, shared company and pleasure with her.
Pressed himself against her belly, climbed upon her back. They had
laughed and talked and hunted together in sunshine. Till the damn
bell had called him away and she’d returned to her own home outside
the limits of his barrel.
That
was well over ten years gone, and he’d not seen her or another
dragon since. For a time he’d hoped she’d return someday. Even
while they were together, they knew it would not last. No dragon
would willingly wish to live so near a dangerous place like Asterryl.
Too many humans who might seek to end her. Alvaranox knew she was
better off in the wilds. She may even find a new mate to have a
hatchling with. They’d be welcome to visit him. It would be nice
just to share the company of other dragons again.
What
was her name? Alvaranox licked his nose. Why couldn’t he remember
her name? She had given it to him, hadn’t she? Or had they been too
busy hunting and mating to even ask for names? No, he was sure he’d
gotten her name. He just couldn’t recall it anymore. Wherever she
was, whoever she was, Alvaranox hoped she was happy.
Alvaranox
heaved a bitter sigh. Who was he kidding. She was probably dead.
“Alv?”
Kirra’s voice was soft but heavy with concern. “Are you alright?”
The
dragon shifted a little beneath his blankets, turning his horned head
to peer over at Kirra. “Just memories. I didn’t know you were in
here. I’m not used to having people watch me while I sleep.”
“I
thought you deserved to have someone watch over you,” Kirra said,
peering down at the leather-wrapped book that sat in her lap. “Nylah
says sometimes you have nightmares.”
“I
do,” Alvaranox said, twisting himself to regard Kirra. He found her
sentiments touching.
Kirra
sat against the far wall, between bookshelves that now bore more
get-well gifts and potted plants than they did trophies of battle.
She had the sleeves of her gray and blue tunic pulled halfway up her
arms. She sat with her legs crossed, her sketchpad resting against
her lap. Smudges of mud and grass stains marked her dark breeches and
boots. Messy red curls hung about her face. Charcoal sticks of
various shapes and sizes were scattered all around her.
Kirra
set down the drawing utensil in her hand, and picked up a smaller
one. She smiled at the dragon, rolling the charcoal stick between her
fingers. “You seemed to be sleeping peacefully enough today,
though.”
“I
suppose I was,” Alvaranox said. “I think I was having good
dreams.”
“Oh?”
Kirra began to draw again, letting the dragon decide if he wished to
elaborate or not.
“Yes,”
Alvaranox said. He lifted his good paw, rubbing at his bleary copper
eyes. “I think I was dreaming of females. Maybe even my last mate.”
Kirra
giggled to herself, a hint of a blush tinting her cheeks. Weeks of
time spent in the sun keeping watch over Alvaranox had darkened her
skin a shade. “Oh! I didn’t realize you meant that sort of
dream.”
“What
sort of dream?” Alvaranox glared at her, narrowing his copper eyes
as if daring her to finish that thought.
Kirra
waved her charcoal stick in the air. “The sort where you wake up
aroused, get embarrassed and try to hide it. Then I think you’re
hiding some new ailment, accidentally find out you’re excited, and
then we both have a good, embarrassed laugh.”
“Spell
it out, why don’t you.” Alvaranox gave an irritable snort. “No,
Kirra. It was not that sort of dream.”
“Do
dragons get those sorts of dreams?” Kirra smiled at the dragon. She
was curious despite the heated blush spreading across her face. “I
mean, things do have that effect on a dragon, right?”
The
dragon lifted his spines in bafflement. “Of course. How else would
we make more dragons?”
Kirra
laughed, red curls bouncing in front of her face. “I realize that,
Alv. Thought I actually meant…” She trailed off, scratching at
her face in thought. Kirra had to tip toe carefully around the
venomous viper of a painful subject. She scowled, trying to decide
how best to discuss the lack of other dragons.
“You’re
drawing on your face,” Alvaranox said, flicking his tail tip.
“Oh,
damn,” Kirra said, hissing through her teeth. She set the charcoal
stick down and tried to wipe the gray lines off her cheeks. “Did I
get it?”
Kirra
had done little more than smear the gray across the rest of her
cheek, but Alvaranox only smiled. “Yes, you got it.”
“Thanks,”
Kirra said. She picked her charcoal stick up again, rolling it in her
fingers. “What I meant was…”
“If
you’re trying to ask me if a dragon still becomes aroused from time
to time, despite seemingly being the only dragon left in existence…”
Kirra
bit her lip, and then nodded. She swallowed hard, and glanced away.
That wasn’t how she wanted to put it. She hadn’t meant to upset
the dragon. If anything she thought a bit of playful curiosity about
an embarrassing subject might make him laugh. “Sorry, Alv, I didn’t
mean to…”
“Oh,
hush, Kirra,” Alvaranox said. “It’s alright. I know what you
were trying to say.” The dragon blinked, tilting his head and
lifting his ears. By now a hint of a blush had tinted the dragon’s
ears, frills and nose purple. “If you must know, yes. I may be a
dragon, but I’m still male. I suspect that sort of thing effects my
body in equal measure to any human man.” The dragon gave a
humiliated sounding whine, licking his nose. “Perhaps greater
measure recently.”
Kirra
couldn’t help but giggling at that. It might be juvenile of her to
laugh about it, but she didn’t care. She’d just never expected to
hear a dragon admit to having frequent such occurrences.
“Yes,
yes,” Alvaranox said, thumping his tail spines against the
blankets. “Laugh it up at the easily excitable dragon. As if he
isn’t embarrassed enough about it.”
“Don’t
worry, Alv,” Kirra said through her steady giggles. “I won’t
tell anyone you’re secretly a horny old beast. Maybe Nylah.”
“I
am not old,” Alvaranox replied, a hint of a smile creeping across
his muzzle.
Kirra
grinned at the dragon. “So I’ll just tell her that other thing,
then.”
“She’s
called me worse,” Alvaranox admitted, grinning. Mirthful sparkles
still danced in the dragon’s eyes. “Perhaps if you tell her,
she’ll go and fetch me a female dragon to assist me.”
Kirra
laughed and set her sketchbook down. She slowly pushed herself up,
stretching her arms up over her head. “Or perhaps she’ll offer to
assist you herself.”
Alvaranox
snorted, and pulled his head back a little, flaring his central
spines. “More likely she’ll volunteer you for the job.”
Kirra
gave a mock gasp, covering her mouth with a hand. “What will the
townsfolk think!”
“I’d
be surprised if such rumors hadn’t already started.” Alvaranox
chuckled and began to sit up. “I’m hot under these blankets.”
Kirra
walked over and pulled all the blankets off of the dragon as he eased
up to his haunches. She folded them and set them aside. He still had
plenty of other soft things to lounge about upon beneath him. Without
Kirra needing to ask, Alvaranox lowered his head and let her give him
the same quick inspection she did several times a day. She felt his
throat and fire glands, looked in his mouth and into his eyes. When
she was satisfied, she patted his pebbly-scaled cheek.
“Everything
looks good,” Kirra said.
“Aside
from the multitude of wounds marking my body?”
“Yes,
aside from that,” Kirra said, glancing down towards Alv’s hind
end.
“What
do you think you’re looking at?” Alv asked, curling his tail
around himself.
“Just
curious,” Kirra said, smirking at him. She walked towards the water
trough near the door to check the water level. “There must be a way
to truly embarrass a dragon. Pointing out his arousal seems
embarrassing enough.”
“That
sounds like a quest you can abandon before you begin.”
“It’s
probably the Bluestrand actually,” Kirra said, returning to the
dragon. “It’s known to cause that effect in men, so I’m sure it
has the same effect on dragons.”
“Wonderful.”
Alvaranox flared his wings out, stretching them a little bit. He
tipped his wedge shaped head back and yawned. Then he licked his
nose, glancing down at Kirra again. “I do seem to recall a bit of
that effect when I had to take the stuff in my younger days.”
Kirra
nodded and stroked the green scales of the dragon’s neck. “I’ll
see about cutting down your dosage a little. May have to talk to
Nylah about it, though. She should be by later with your dinner.”
“Just
what I need. Something else for the old lady to tease me about.”
Kirra
just smiled at him. “Do you need anything else before your meal?
You’ve got plenty of water. Now you’re awake I’m sure you don’t
want me pestering you all evening. So I’ll leave you alone for a
while, if you like.”
“Wine.”
“You
know you can’t have that, Alv.”
“Just
a little, Kirra.” Alvaranox tilted his head. “I assure you I do
not want any adverse reactions anymore than you do. Just bring me a
little bit? You can stay and pester me, if you wish.”
Kirra
pursed her lips, then sighed, relenting. She reached out and gently
cupped the dragon’s chin in a hand. “Alright, Alv. Just a little.
And if Nylah finds out, I’m going to tell her it was mine and you
stole it.”
“You
can tell her whatever you like, as long as I get wine in my belly.”
Kirra’s
laughter sounded like chimes to the dragon. She rubbed the golden
blotch between his nostrils. “You’re a lush Alv. I’ll be back
soon.”
Kirra
walked to the door, and the dragon followed her over as if to see her
out. Though as soon as she was halfway through the door he pushed his
head against her back and gave her a playful shove. She yelped and
stumbled a few paces, then whirled around to glare at the dragon. Any
anger she might have sought to project was decidedly muted by the
grin on her lips and the mirth dancing in her green eyes.
“Don’t
come back without my wine,” the dragon said, dropping onto his
haunches to grab the door handle with his good paw.
“Listen
here, you scaly a-” Was as far as Kirra got before Alvaranox
slammed the door, grinning.
Alvaranox
turned towards his water trough and dropped his head. As he lapped at
the water, he could not help but find his thoughts circling around
Kirra. His newest Handler was getting unexpectedly playful with him
lately. She’d rarely showed anything like that before, especially
when Nylah was around. It was as if she’d been lost in Nylah’s
shadow. Alvaranox lifted his head, licking beads of water from his
pebbly scales as he wondered if Kirra was finally finding her way
into the light.
It
sometimes seemed as though Kirra was so concerned with living up to
Nylah’s standards that she simply couldn’t relax around the older
woman. Her relaxed attitude was one of the things that first helped
Alvaranox grow to trust Nylah. As she grew more trusting of the
dragon, she grew increasingly relaxed around him. As the months
passed she treated him less like a monster, and more like a friend.
Like a person.
Now
Kirra was starting to do the same thing. He certainly wouldn’t have
ever expected Kirra to joke around with him the way she had only
moments before. Embarrassing as it may have been, that was the sort
of thing friends would jest about. The sort of thing Nylah would have
teased him about in his youth just to make him laugh, or show him
they were not so different. Perhaps Nylah and Kirra were not so
different either. Kirra just needed a chance to relax without feeling
as though Nylah were silently judging her ability as Alv’s handler.
Alvaranox
hobbled back towards his bed. The trip to the water trough and back
wasn’t enough to wear him out the way it had been when his recovery
began. But his body still ached and throbbed in many places and he
didn’t feel like walking about too much. When he reached his soft
things, he spotted Kirra’s sketchpad and her charcoal sticks out of
the corner of his eye. He knew Kirra liked to draw but she rarely
shared her work. He’d seen a few of her sketches before, images of
herbs and a diagram of his claws while she was first studying him.
She certainly had talent, but she did not seem to enjoy sharing the
sketches she did for pleasure.
The
dragon walked across his sleeping chamber, and lowered his head to
peer into Kirra’s sketch book. She’d left it open upon the
unfinished drawing she was working on so as not to smudge the
charcoal before she had a chance to protect it. Alvaranox expected to
find some scenic landscape image or the visage of a man she fancied.
Instead the dragon was staring at himself.
Kirra
was drawing him.
Alvaranox
slowly sucked in his breath, his heart fluttering a moment in his
plated chest. Kirra was…drawing him. And not in any manner he’d
ever seen a dragon depicted, either. There was no false ferocity to
the image. There was no anger or violence. It was not even an image
of himself laying in wounded repose, as he might have expected had he
known she was drawing him while he slept. Instead, the image depicted
Alvaranox as Kirra must have seen him. Regal. Proud. Resigned.
Lonely.
In
the image Alvaranox sat upon a hill with his head held high and proud
despite his open imprisonment to Asterryl. Well beyond him the town
that collared the dragon sprawled along the horizon. Alvaranox’s
wings were slightly flared in majestic display. The dragon in the
drawing stared into the distance as if hopeful to someday see another
of his kind circling in the skies.
Though
only an unfinished sketch, the picture held a sort of cold loneliness
that cut Alvaranox to the core. How long had Kirra seen him that way?
Did Nylah see him that way too? It was not an inaccurate portrayal.
Yet somehow the simple fact that Kirra saw him wreathed in such
hidden sorrow struck the dragon far harder than the image itself
would have.
As
delicately as he could, Alvaranox turned back the page to see the
previous image. It too was a drawing of Alvaranox. The drawing was
completed, lined with inks and long since sanded dry. It was a
simpler image that depicted the dragon in flight above the rolling,
rocky moors. In that picture the dragon’s spines were all flared
around his head, and his maw was split wide as though issuing a
joyous roar.
Below
the image, simple letters spelled out a word.
FREE.
Only
then did Alvaranox realize the dragon in that image bore no collar.
Kirra had drawn him free at last from the wretched collar. Free from
Asterryl and returning to his home.
“Free,”
Alvaranox said aloud. For a moment he wondered if Kirra wished she
could make that image come true. If she could have freed him from the
collar, would she?
Alvaranox
turned the page, leaving the images where he’d found them. They
must have been very personal to Kirra. The dragon felt a little
guilty for prying, though the images had touched his buried heart
just the same. He wondered if she’d ever shown them to Nylah.
Alvaranox returned to his bedding and settled down to await Kirra’s
return. He found himself smiling, the image of his freedom now locked
in his mind’s eye.
The
dragon was still smiling when Kirra returned a short time later.
Before he had time to wipe the grin from his muzzle, Kirra already
spotted it. As she walked over to him, she asked, “What are you
smiling about?”
“Nothing,”
Alvaranox said, snapping his jaws as if irritated with her.
Kirra
only giggled. “Did I return at a bad time? If you were…”
“I
was not,” Alvaranox said, then hissed for emphasis.
“I
can come back later,” Kirra said. She had a bottle of wine tucked
under her arm, and a large wooden bowl in her hands.
“You
really did bring me wine.” Alvaranox hadn’t expected her to
actually do it. The dragon licked his snout, mouth watering
immediately.
“I
did,” Kirra said, backing away from him. “But only a little.”
She smirked at him, and pulled the stopper from the wine. She poured
a little of the rich red liquid into the bowl. The warm, earthen and
slightly fruit aroma quickly permeated the room, overriding the
lavender and pine scents. “And when you tell me what you were
smiling about, I’ll give you some.”
“You,”
the dragon said, lifting his spines. The inside of his ears flushed
just a little. “I looked at your drawings.”
“Oh,”
Kirra said, her voice trailing off as her eyes fell. “I didn’t
really want you to.”
“They’re
beautiful,” was the only thing Alvaranox could think to say.
Kirra
slowly lifted her face, a hint of unexpected vulnerability laid bare
across it. “You really think so?”
“Yes,”
Alvaranox said, trying to peer beyond the layers of green mystery
that suddenly filled Kirra’s eyes. “I do. I have never seen a
dragon depicted so majestically before. Never seen myself shown
so…accurately.” Alvaranox tried to swallow the sudden lump
threatening to choke him. “The one where I am…” For a moment
the dragon struggled to force the word past his teeth. “…Free. It
made me smile. Thank you for drawing that. I am sorry I pried, but I
am happy I saw it.”
Kirra
approached the dragon again, a shy smile brightened her expression
and with it, the dragon’s spirits. “Then so am I. Here.”
Kirra
poured a little more wine into the bowl and set it down in front of
him. Alvaranox eased himself down and stretched his neck to the bowl.
He sniffed at the wine, savoring the thick, fruity scent, and then
lapped at it. It sent rich, warming waves all down his length throat.
The dragon sighed in delight.
“Oh,
that’s wonderful.”
“May
I sit with you?”
Alvaranox
glanced at her. It was an odd thing for her to ask. “Go ahead.”
Kirra
settled down near the dragon, found a place without wounds or
bandages and leaned against him. “You deserve better, Alv.”
The
dragon watched her a moment, lifting a single ear. “Of course I do.
I’m a dragon.”
Kirra
watched him lap up the rest of his wine. She crawled over, poured him
a bit more, and then settled back against his body again. “I mean
it.” For a few moments she tried to sort her thoughts, working her
jaw as though chewing a bit of gristle. “You deserve to feel
appreciated. To feel like someone sees you as something more than
just the monster that guards this town. You should be treated like
our protector, not our slave. Better than that, even. I had a dream
where you were free. It was the first time I’d ever really seen you
look happy. When I woke, I had to draw it. I wished I could make it
real. I wished I could set you free.”
Alvaranox
was silent. He turned his head away from her, choking on sudden
emotion. He took a few deep breaths to try and quell the twisting of
his stomach and the clenching of his throat. If Kirra saw the dragon
nearly in tears, she had the decency not to mention it. Instead, she
simply stroked the scutes of his foreleg for a moment.
“For
whatever its worth, Alv, Nylah feels the same way. She once told me,
if she but had the power, she’d have freed you years ago.” Kirra
sighed, leaning against the dragon’s leg. “I know you don’t
really like me, but that doesn’t matter. What’s right is right.
You’ve suffered enough for my town, Alv. You don’t deserve to be
treated like its monster, you deserve to be treated like its savior.
I’d take that collar off you now if it was possible.”
Alvaranox
smiled to himself a little. He knew in his heart that it was not
possible. He was bound to this town for all of his days. But Kirra
seemed honest in her sentiment, and that touched him nearly as deeply
as the act itself would have. He sniffed a little bit, blinking away
a few tears that threatened to mark his pebbly green scales with wet
streaks.
“Thank
you, Kirra,” the dragon said, a little hoarse.
“You’re
welcome, Alv,” Kirra replied. “I won’t tell Nylah you cried,
either.”
“I
shall bite you if you do.”
Kirra
laughed and poured the dragon the last of his wine. Alvaranox lowered
his head and began to lap at the wine. As he drank, he begrudgingly
admitted to himself he was going to have to start trusting Kirra
after all.
Still,
it would not be so bad to have another he could call his friend.
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