---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter
Three
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pain
returned, stirring the dragon back to consciousness. He gasped, his
black-horned head jerking up off the grassy ground. For a moment he
could not recall where he was, or why he hurt so badly. Humans were
all around him, pressing things against his body. The more they
pressed on his belly, the worse he hurt.
Alvaranox
screamed.
“He’s
waking up!”
“Never
mind that! Hold that bandage tight, I say!”
The
dragon’s vision swam. He tried to focus on the people around him
but found it impossible. He lifted a fore leg and saw blood caking
it. Confusion and panic rolled through him. They were murdering him.
The dragon tried to swipe at the one pushing upon his belly, yet he
simply lacked the strength. His front leg dropped back to the ground,
limp. Then more pain surged through his belly. He coughed, spat
blood, and blessed unconsciousness wreathed him once again.
When he awoke again with another scream, there were twice as many humans around him as before. The pain made him thrash, fear made him fight. Slipping in and out of consciousness made it impossible for the dragon to register what was really happening. Instincts told him to fight against those who caused him pain. He tried to twist away from them, tried to lash out with claws and teeth yet found himself too weak to do anything more than shove a human aside here and there.
When he awoke again with another scream, there were twice as many humans around him as before. The pain made him thrash, fear made him fight. Slipping in and out of consciousness made it impossible for the dragon to register what was really happening. Instincts told him to fight against those who caused him pain. He tried to twist away from them, tried to lash out with claws and teeth yet found himself too weak to do anything more than shove a human aside here and there.
“Hold
him down!”
“How
the hell am I going to do that, he’s a dragon!”
“Where
the hell is Nylah!”
“She’s
coming, she’s coming!”
“He’s
bleeding again, press more salve in that wound!”
Nylah.
The name was familiar.
Nylah.
The name brought him a measure of focus.
Alvaranox
struggled to lift his horned head from the ground. Blood caked his
face and muzzle, bits of sod clung to his horns where they’d
embedded themselves in the grass during his agonized writhing. His
vision swam, copper eyes unable to properly focus on anything. A
human woman stood at his side, just beyond his crumpled wing. She was
jabbing her hands in the air as though striking down unseen foes,
yelling orders at the motley assortment of men and woman who had come
to try and save the dragon’s life. Through his hazy vision, the
woman seemed wreathed in roiling flames.
Someone
had lit the poor woman’s head on fire.
Alvaranox
wondered for a moment if he’d inadvertently flamed the woman while
she was pressing on his wounded belly. For a person who was on fire,
she seemed to be taking it remarkably well. She must have been
yelling orders to at least four or five men all at once. One of them
was rolling out charts upon the ground, another pulling herbs from a
basket, and two more smearing some kind of salve upon a set of
bandages.
“Nylah,”
the dragon croaked, swallowing the blood in his throat as he tried to
concentrate. Only Nylah yelled at people like that.
The
woman turned towards him. No, it wasn’t Nylah. Nylah didn’t have
flames shooting from her head. Come to think of it, neither did this
woman. She just had plenty of curly red hair cascading from her
skull. The red haired woman quickly moved to the dragon and snatched
up his broad, wedge-shaped best she could. Her brilliant green eyes
caught fire in the sunlight as they bored into Alvaranox’s own
copper gaze.
“Alv!”
The woman yelled as though it were the dragon’s ears filled with
blood and not his belly. “Alv, stay awake!”
Kirra.
Yes. Kirra had red hair. His newest Handler. She always had been a
pain in his scaly ass. “No,” Alvaranox murmured, closing his eyes
a moment. “Sleep.”
“No,
Alv!” Kirra hissed. “Stay with me! You cannot sleep right now,
you hear me? You cannot sleep!”
Alvaranox
would have none of it. He began to lean his head back against the
grass again. He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The pain
was beginning to fade again. Yes, sleep. Sleep brought relief from
the pain. Kirra could yell at him later, when he felt better. Sleep.
“No,
Alv,” Kirra said, fear rising in her voice. “Damn it, stay awake!
You!” Kirra scowled, her gut twisting. She didn’t want to do this
to the dragon, but she had no choice. “You! Squeeze his paw.”
“But…”
“Do
it now! Make him scream!” Kirra shouted her orders at the man, her
eyes flashing. “We have to keep him awake, if he drifts too deeply
now I fear we will never rouse him. It’s a miracle his heart hasn’t
given out already.”
Somewhere
in his drifting mind, Alvaranox heard something about having his paw
squeezed. For a moment, he had no idea how that was to keep him
awake. Then someone dug fingers into the rent meat of his paw pad,
and brilliant, sharp pain rocketed up his foreleg. Alvaranox roared
awake, tears of pain shining in his coppery eyes as he jerked his
head up and out of Kirra’s grasp, pulling his paw away from the
torturous fingers.
“I’m
sorry, Alv,” Kirra cried out, her voice twisting as though she were
the one in pain. She grabbed the dragon’s sensitive frilled ear.
“But you cannot sleep right now, do you hear me? I’d rather hurt
you and save your life than let you flee the pain and see you die.”
Alvaranox
took a shuddering breath, his paw and belly throbbing in torturous
syncopation. “Kirra,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Where
is…Nylah?”
“She’s
coming,” Kirra said, though the dragon feared it may be more hollow
reassurance than anything else. If Kirra was hurt the dragon was
calling for his previous Handler in his darkest moment, she did not
let it show. “Alv, listen to me. You cannot sleep. If you sleep,
you will die. Do you understand? You will die!”
Die.
He did not want to die. Kirra’s words found his barely-beating
heart, and squeezed it with cold fingers.
“Don’t…Don’t
let me die, Kirra,” the dragon said, his voice trembling with fear
and pain. Later, he would be humiliated to recall his plea. But in
that moment he was simply afraid, as any other creature would be. It
wasn’t simply that he feared death. More than that, Alvaranox did
not want to die like this, in this place. Not in his prison, like
Stupid Fish. “Please, Kirra! Don’t…don’t let me die. Not
here. Not in this barrel.”
“He’s
delusional,” Kirra called out to her assistants. Then she turned
her attention back to the dragon. She worked her hands around him to
hold his head, stroking his muzzle. Sticky, half-dried dragon blood
coated her fingers. “I won’t, Alv, I promise. I won’t let you
die, alright? But you’ve got to stay with me for a few minutes,
whatever it takes. Alright? Can you do that for me?”
Alvanorax
nodded slowly. Even that simply action seemed to take all his
strength. He had to try and focus. He tilted his head, looking over
at Kirra. For the first time he realized the woman wore little more
than a dark green nightdress swishing around her body. She must have
sprinted here straight out of her bed. Her dress was already caked in
dragon blood, and her arms were both smeared with the stuff as well.
Kirra was probably the first here to try and staunch the bleeding.
“Alv,
can you hear me?” Kirra asked, her tone forceful enough to draw his
attention.
Alvaranox
managed another little nod.
“Do
you know where your liver is?”
The
question caught Alvaranox off guard. If he’d been in a better state
of mind the question would have worried him. The humans didn’t know
what parts of him were injured any more than he did, and they were
hoping the dragon knew his own anatomy well enough to offer them some
assistance. But Alvaranox was practically drifting above his own body
now, and the question brought a wheezing laugh from him.
Alvaranox
tasted fresh blood splatter his tongue as he laughed, and yet he
managed a grin. Kirra grimaced at the sight of the dragon’s fangs
and teeth tinted so scarlet. “In a barrel,” the dragon murmured.
“What?”
Kirra didn’t realize he was joking at first.
“My
liver,” the dragon said with another wheeze of amusement. “I put
it in a barrel. It keeps Stupid Fish company.”
“He’s
not going to be able to help us,” Kirra called out to the others.
“He’s barely even conscious.” She gently stroked the dragon’s
throat, trying to keep him calm. “That’s alright, Alv. You just
stay awake for me, okay?”
Alvaranox
gave a loud groan as he felt someone clambering onto his body. He
lifted his head just enough to see that a human man had settled
against the area below his ribs. “If he’s anything like a horse,
his liver would be here…” The man traced a line across the
dragon’s underbelly with his finger. Then he began to crawl about,
pointing out different places. “His kidneys about here, and
here…His stomach here. And…his bowels probably start around this
area…”
“But
that’s all speculation,” Kirra called out. “If his liver’s
been run through, I don’t think he’d have made it home, so we
focus on stopping the bleeding and trying to close him up.”
“But
if its his kidney, by tomorrow he could…”
“If
we don’t stop the damn bleeding now, by tomorrow we won’t have a
dragon to worry about anymore!” The strong, sharp tone of Kirra’s
voice cut off any argument. “Right now that is the first and only
priority! Is that understood?”
“Yes,
Ma’am,” replied a chorus of voices.
“When
did you get so damn bossy,” Alvaranox muttered, his voice slurred.
He’d never actually heard Kirra take charge like that before.
Usually she was a little more subdued, deferring to Nylah. She was
often quiet around the dragon, rarely pushing back against his
insults or his attempts to boss her around. Some days she simply sat
nearby, writing or sketching in some book while the dragon did his
best to ignore her. Nylah worked to get him to trust the woman, and
to get Kirra to take charge more when Nylah wasn’t around. Until
now Alvaranox hadn’t seen much evidence that it was working.
“When
you got stabbed in the belly,” Kirra snapped right back at him.
That
made Alvaranox grin just a little despite the pain. Sounded like
something Nylah would say. Weakly, he licked his nose, and cocked his
head a little to regard her with as much focus as he could grasp.
“I’m going to die, aren’t I Kirra.”
Kirra’s
face twisted in a pained scowl that provided more answer than her
words. “…No.”
“You’re
lying,” the dragon said, his heart sinking.
“I
don’t know, alright?” Kirra’s voice rose, heated. “It’s
bad, Alv, it’s very, very bad. But I am doing everything I can to
save your life, I promise you that. We’re trying as hard as we
can…”
While
he had the focus, Alvaranox lifted his head again, swinging it
around. There were dozens of humans all over the place. Someone had
dragged over benches and tables, covered them with reams of gauze and
rolls of bandages. Other tables held basket upon basket of herbs and
medicines. A whole line of people were mashing and mixing things with
mortar and pestle and smearing the contents on trays which were
hustled over to the dragon. Every time someone pressed against the
dragon’s belly, they were working in more herbal salves made to
staunch the flow of blood. When the salves were smeared into the
wound, clean bandages were held against it. When those were red and
soaked they were removed and the process began again.
“So
it seems,” Alvaranox said, resting his head against Kirra. Her
warmth was oddly comforting. “Is it working?”
“We’ve
slowed the bleeding, but we haven’t stopped it yet,” Kirra
admitted, cradling the dragon’s heavy head. “You’ve more blood
in you than I’d have guessed, and its not spurting from you so
there were no truly major arteries severed. But it continues to ooze
and run and we fear something vital to you has been cut deeper than
we can reach to sew it shut.”
“Mmrrhmm,”
the dragon murmured, trying to keep his eyes open. Things were going
out of focus again. “You’re awfully bloody, Kirra.”
The
odd, off-hand remark brought a nervous smile to Kirra’s face.
“That’s your fault, Dragon. I was pressing bandages on your
wounds while I waited for everyone else to make it here.”
“Kirra!”
Someone called out, running up behind the red-haired woman. “Nylah
has just arrived.”
“Oh,
thank the Gods,” Kirra said. Kirra gave the dragon’s head a
squeeze. “I’ll bring her over, alright? Do not sleep!” Kirra
rose to her feet, grabbing the man’s shoulder a moment. “Do not
let the dragon sleep! If he begins to drift off, snatch up his ear
and twist it as sharply as you can till he wakes.”
“I
shall bite his hand off if he does,” Alvaranox said, though the
fatigue in the dragon’s voice said otherwise.
“Do
it anyway,” Kirra hissed through her teeth to the man before she
darted off. “Nylah! Nylah, over here!”
Alvaranox
cried out in sudden pain as someone pressed a fresh bandage to his
belly. At least the waves of pain that came when they pushed upon his
wound seemed to arrive with less frequency. That was good, right?
Didn’t that mean it was taking longer for the bandages to become
soaked with blood? Surely that meant his bleeding was nearly stopped.
Either that, or he was out of blood.
Seeking
to distract himself from the pain, Alvaranox twisted his head around.
One of his horns caught in the grass, tearing a little rut through
the sod. Though it left his neck bent at an awkward angle, the
position did allow him a clear view of Kirra as she ran towards
Nylah’s horse. Nylah did not often ride a horse any more, but she
did have a dappled chestnut mare she took around the town now and
then. Much like Kirra it was clear Nylah hadn’t bothered to change
out of her cream-colored nightgown when she heard the news about the
dragon. Given the way she was ordering a group of people to strip all
the saddle bags from her horse it seemed likely her own delay was due
to stopping by the Handler’s Sanctuary she had set up years ago. It
was where she kept all her notes about the dragon’s health and
anatomy and all her various herbal concoctions she’d created
especially for him over the years.
As
the men began to ferry her supplies towards the group working
feverishly on the dragon, Kirra ran right up to Nylah. Nylah tried to
push past her towards the dragon, but Kirra snatched the older woman
by the shoulders. Alvaranox couldn’t hear their conversation, but
for some reason it seemed Kirra wanted to talk to her before letting
her get too close to the dragon. The complexities of human
relationships sometimes eluded him, but it seemed she was trying to
prepare Nylah for the worst. Why, he didn’t know. If they were
dragons they’d simply come right out with the truth. He was dying,
so say goodbye.
Perhaps
Kirra said just that. Her words struck Nylah like a physical blow.
The older woman doubled over a moment, pressing a hand to her mouth
as if to hold a horrified scream inside. Kirra moved to support her
as Nylah’s knees buckled, and soon the older woman was leaning
against the younger. Nylah’s shoulders shook.
Nylah
was sobbing.
Alvaranox
realized then just how deeply Nylah had come to care for him. Nylah
had known the dragon nearly all her life, and for all those years she
had sought to make his lonely existence just little more pleasant.
Though she had never truly put it to words, Alvaranox understood then
that Nylah thought of the dragon as her greatest friend. And she had
just been told that her friend was dying.
Tears
brimmed in the dragon’s eyes as he saw Nylah sag to her knees, her
face pressed to Kirra’s shoulder. Alvaranox did not want to die. He
did not want to leave Nylah here, without him. It was a strange
realization for him to have, yet he knew it was the truth. For a
while now, he had feared what life would be like for him when Nylah
was gone. Yet this was the first time Alvaranox had even considered
what life might be like for Nylah without him there. Bittersweet as
it often was, their friendship was true and the dragon was as
important a part of Nylah’s life as she was of his.
“Nylah,”
the dragon wheezed. He tried to call out to her, but could not find
enough strength to make his voice heard. “Nylah!” He tried again,
but her name slipped from his tongue as a trembling plea rather than
a demanding roar.
“Lady
Nylah!” The man who’d stood by to ensure the dragon remained
awake offered his voice in the dragon’s stead. “Lady Nylah, he’s
calling for you!”
Nylah’s
head jerked up from Kirra’s shoulder. She pointed towards the
dragon, and Kirra nodded. With a supporting arm draped around Nylah’s
body, Kirra rushed the former handler over to the dragon’s side.
The man moved out of the way, and Nylah eased down onto her knees
alongside Alvaranox’s head. Tears still ran from Nylah’s
burnished brown eyes, glinting like jewels of sorrow in the morning
sunlight.
“Gods,
Alv,” Nylah whimpered, moving to hug the dragon’s head tightly
against her body. “I told you to be safe, and this is how you thank
me?”
Alvaranox
laughed despite the pain it brought him. “You know I never do what
you tell me.”
“I
know,” Nylah said, her voice a trembling whisper. Hot tears dripped
to the dragon’s muzzle, washing lines through the dried blood. “I’d
tell you to live through this but I’m terrified you’d defy me in
that, too.”
Kirra
meanwhile, dashed to the table where all of Nylah’s notes and
journals were being assembled and unrolled. “Nylah! Which journal
has the herbal notes you were telling me about the other day?”
Nylah
blinked and lifted her head. For a moment, she seemed irritated to
have been interrupted. Then her eyes brightened and she sucked in a
breath. “The blue one! The two roses on the cover. What have you
been giving him?”
Kirra
quickly shuffled through the journals until she found the one trimmed
in blue leather. Twin roses were embossed upon the front of it.
“Everything I know to stop the bleeding and ease his pain.
Threeblade, Whiteroot, ground Sage Blossom…” She thumbed through
the pages swiftly, her lips moving as she read to herself. “But I
just remembered…”
“Forget
easing the pain,” Nylah called out. She would have jumped to her
feet were she not so intent on cradling the dragon’s head against
her body. “Sage Blossom inhibits the ability of Whiteroot to
promote the clotting of blood! Take it out of the mixture, and
replace it with as much Black Arrowbloom as you can get, right now!”
“Of
course,” Kirra said, reaching the page she’d sought. “I’d
totally discounted it because of the fevers and other sicknesses it
can cause, but its worth the risk because it…”
“…Demonstrates
a remarkable ability to staunch the flow of blood from the dragon’s
wounds,” Nylah finished for her.
“Yes!”
Kirra beamed, waving to the table with the baskets of herbs. “The
Black Arrowbloom. Now! As much as you can pulverize. And for the love
of the Gods, don’t any of you get it in your mouth.”
Alvaranox
gave a whimper, trying to follow the conversation. He did not like
the sound of that. “Arrow…bloom? Is that not…a poison?”
“It
causes fevers and sickness, and it causes the blood to clot
unnaturally fast. Especially your blood.” Nylah glanced down at the
dragon. For the moment her fearful sorrow had been replaced with hope
and determination. “I wouldn’t normally do this but we are out of
options, Alv. I even have it listed right in my notes…”
“For
emergency use only,” the two woman said at the same time.
“This
qualifies.” Nylah settled back upon her knees alongside the
dragon’s head. “But its your decision to make, Alv. Yes, it is a
poison, but I believe it is a poison with a chance to save your life.
You are a creature of strength, stronger even than I had ever
realized. But even a dragon has his limits, and there is so much
blood all around you…” Nylah’s voice trembled, and she fought
to keep speaking. “I…I do not want to lose you, Alv.” She
reached out, cupping the dragon’s green scaled cheek, stroking it a
little. “But this is a chance we are taking. It is possible this
may expedite your end rather than stave it off. I feel if we do
nothing now, you will not see the sunset. If we try this, at least I
believe it gives you a good chance to pull through. But it will hurt.
A lot. And as I said…”
Nylah
trailed off, her hazel eyes drifting towards the ground. Alvaranox
sighed. She did not need to repeat herself. “Go on then. Do what
you must, you old hag.”
A
smile cracked through the pained veneer of the old lady’s face. Her
fingers shook as they traced little circles around the pebbly scales
of the dragon’s muzzle. “If you die on me I shall quite cross
with you.”
Pain
and fear strained the dragons voice yet he sought to present a brave
facade. “I should think you’d be more cross with the man who
stabbed me.”
Nylah’s
smile grew just a little more. She lifted her eyes to glance at
Kirra, giving her a silent nod that she had the dragon’s
permission. Then she looked around at a few of the other man standing
nearby. “Fix up as much antidote for the Arrowbloom’s sickness as
you can. And mix it with just as much Redbark. It’ll help keep the
fevers under control, and if the Gods are willing, it will also help
his body start to produce more blood.”
“I
hate Redbark,” the dragon muttered. He’d been made to eat the
bitter stuff before after lesser injuries and illnesses.
“That’s
a shame, because you’re going to be eating it three times a day for
the foreseeable future,” Nylah smiled at him a little, her lightly
boney fingers tenderly rubbing the golden blotch at the end of his
nose. She cleared away as much dried blood as she could to trace the
shape of the golden marking. “Consider it penance for ruining my
roses.”
The
dragon liked her optimism. It was as though she was already sure he’d
survive. Nylah had always been optimistic. A good balance for the
pessimism and bitterness the dragon himself often tried to stave off.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons he’d come to trust her. She
balanced him out. She always looked for a way to make things better
for him or a chance to give him something to feel thankful for.
Kirra
soon came forward carrying an old wooden bucket by its rickety
handle. Discolored water sloshed out of it. Even with the scent of
his own blood sticking to his nostrils the dragon noticed the water’s
foul, bitter aroma. When Kirra set the bucket down near his head, he
gave a little growl, flaring out his spines.
“I
suppose there’s no point in telling you I refuse to drink that.”
“Drink
as much as you can,” Kirra said softly. “We ground the herbs and
mixed them into the water. That will help them get into your system
faster. And you need the water, as well.”
Alvaranox
glanced between the two women. Both faces were set with lines of
worry. Nylah looked at the bucket, and Kirra gave the older woman a
slow, single nod. They must have put something else in there. He
stretched and twisted his long neck towards the bucket, and Nylah
lifted it to hold it out to him. Ignoring the scent, the dragon
delicately lapped at the water in the bucket. It was cold, and held a
hint of a bitter medicine quality that helped to replace the coppery
taste of his own blood. The water rolled down his long throat in
waves. As he drank, the dragon could not help but notice the woman
glancing at his belly now and then.
When
Alvaranox paused for a breath, he forced a smile to his muzzle.
“Please tell me you’re not waiting to see if that water runs out
the hole in my belly.”
Their
silence was not the answer he’d hoped for.
After
a moment, Nylah gently stroked his neck. “Finish your water.”
Alvaranox
pushed his muzzle into the bucket, lapping up the last of the water.
He swirled his tongue around the bottom of it to collect the final
bits of foul smelling herbs. As much pain as he was in, the
unpleasantly bitter taste across his tongue was almost a welcome
distraction. He forced himself to swallow the last of it, and then
let his wedge-shaped head fall back against the grass.
Nylah
smoothed out her nightgown, and settled herself down alongside the
dragon’s head. “In a moment, we’re going to start working the
Arrowbloom mixture into your wounds. What we just gave you should
help ease your body into a restful state. If you start to fall
asleep…”
“I
know,” The dragon muttered. “Kirra told me. I have to stay
awake.”
“…You
can sleep now,” Nylah said, softly. “You won’t want to feel
what’s about to happen any more than you have to.”
Alvaranox
cocked his head without lifting it from the grass. He knew what that
meant. Kirra had been worried about being unable to wake him, but
they all knew he was fading swiftly. They were about to do whatever
it took to force the bleeding to stop, and they would either save the
dragon or they would fail. If this attempt was going to accelerate
his demise, it would not matter if he was awake at the time or not.
They would stop his bleeding, and then his body would either pull
through…or it would not.
Nylah
and Kirra both knew that. They had silently agreed to have Kirra add
something to his the herbs to ensure he would sleep through the worst
of it. The look they’d shared had been agreement that Alvaranox had
suffered enough. If the dragon was to die this day, Nylah wanted his
death to be as peaceful and painless as possible. They had just
ensured that if his death were coming, it would come in his sleep.
“I
understand,” Alvaranox murmured, closing his eyes. He did not wish
to look at his bloodied body any more.
“We’re
ready,” Kirra said softly, near the dragon’s belly.
“Give
him a moment, first,” Nylah whispered.
As
Alvaranox lay upon his back, Nylah slipped her hands under his head.
She gently eased the dragons head up in her increasingly frail arms.
Nylah guided the dragon to rest his head best he could against the
warmth and comfort of her lap. Then she began to stroke the dragon’s
throat. Nylah long ago discovered that was a very soothing gesture to
a dragon. Alvaranox swallowed the lump suddenly present beneath her
hand. A few tears threatened to spill from the dragon’s eyes.
“Nylah,”
he said, his voice barely perceptible. “If I do not wake…”
“Hush,
now,” Nylah said, caressing his scales. Her voice trembled as she
sought to keep it from breaking. Sobs were climbing her throat, and
threatened to send her crumpling against the dragon in a
anguish-wracked heap.
“Thank
you. For…” For being my friend.
“I
said hush,” Nylah said when the dragon trailed off. She knew what
he was trying to say, yet the more he spoke aloud the more she feared
it was the last thing she’d ever hear him say. She leaned forward
as she began to cry, pressing her face against the dragon’s
bloodied scales as though he were some favored blanket there to
comfort her, not the other way around. Her shoulders shook as she
wept against the dragon. “You don’t have to say anything, Alv.
Just rest.”
Kirra
returned to them, crouching down to gently rub Nylah’s back.
Alvaranox wanted to open his eyes, to look up at them one last time,
but found himself unable. An entire ocean of fatigue was washing away
his mind, eroding his consciousness one dark wave at a time. He
thought he heard Kirra sniffling a little too. The dragon felt a few
hot tears of his own escaping his closed eyes.
Gods.
He did not want to die. Not in this place. Not in this barrel. Not
alone.
Yet.
He
wasn’t alone.
“Whatever
happens,” Alvaranox murmured through a haze of unnatural drowsiness
and fear. “Please don’t leave me.”
“I
won’t,” Nylah promised through her tears, her voice a fervent
whisper brushing against the dragon’s scales. Her breath felt cool
against the wet streaks made by her tears. “Never, I promise!”
Alvaranox
smiled as he drifted away. He wanted to thank her, but he could not
find the strength to open his mouth again. The feeling of her warmth
against him, her hand brushing his scales gradually faded into the
background. He knew the pain was coming, but he let sleep overtake
him. When at last the pain did come, it seemed distant, cold. The
sharp, icy spike of it drove deep into his belly, and sent him
tumbling into the merciful void of unconsciousness.
Actually cried reading this, very emotive
ReplyDelete