7. Almost Friendly

Iwake with a start, my skin clammy and my heart pounding in my chest. The nightmare is already fading, leaving me with nothing but residual fear. I rarely remember the dreams, though they visit me often enough.

I turn in my bedroll, thankful I didn't wake the others.

The cavern is silent. I glance at the fissure above, a habit at this point. The light is dimming, evening upon us—another day over. It's only a matter of time before the monsters begin their racket again. They have a pattern, going silent at midday and starting again after dusk.

I almost miss their noise. At least when they're beating on the rocks, we know where they are.

My gaze moves to the dragon. She watches me, her brilliant green eyes glowing thanks to her dangerous element. She makes a noise, like the mew of a cat. It's almost friendly. I think she's asking if I'm all right.

But surely not—she's just an animal. Given half a chance, she'd eat me.

She stretches her head forward and makes the noise again.

Slowly, I sit up and whisper, "Are you hungry?"

Maybe that's it. She wants more fish.

Quietly, so I don't disturb the others, I open a pack and take out several strips of fish. Then I walk to the dragon, nearly as frightened of her as I was my nightmare. But she makes the mewing sound again, her eyes trained on my hands.

"Did you decide you like them?" I extend one of the strips to her, nearly dropping it when she reaches forward. Light sparks in her nostrils—tiny, jagged slashes of light.

With her huge snout, she gently takes the strip from me. Holding it in her teeth, she tilts her head back and drops it into her mouth. Almost immediately, she reaches for the second piece.

"You must be feeling a little better." I'm not as nervous when I hand her the second one.

Of course, she can't answer.

With nothing left to offer, I turn back to my bedroll. But she mews again, sounding a little desperate this time.

"We have to ration it," I tell her. "If you eat it all at once, you won't have breakfast later."

She leans down, nearly making me scream when she softly nudges her head against my shoulder. I wait for a jolt of power to course through my body and stop my heart, but nothing happens.

Relieved, I laugh a little. Slowly, I lift my hand to her face, pressing my palm to her angular cheek. "Are you lonely?"

She closes her eyes, leaning toward my touch like a cat.

"I know what that's like." I stroke her smooth scales. "It must have been awful being trapped down here all alone."

Tears prick my eyes for no good reason.

She pulls her head back, moving her wing to the side. It drags along the ground, not fully healed yet.

"You want me to sit with you?" I whisper.

This is ridiculous. What am I doing?

"Just for a little bit, all right?" Questioning my sanity, I tuck myself close to the dragon, warmer than I've been in days. "Are you feverish, or are you always this hot?"

She makes a churring noise, but I can't speak dragon like Davyn can.

"Oh," I murmur as she brings her wing back over me like a blanket—a warm, safe blanket. "All right."

Then she nudges me with her head, coaxing me to lie against her.

"Not for long, all right?" I close my eyes. "Just a few minutes. You won't accidentally burn me, right?"

She churrs again, and this time, I swear she's laughing.

"You go to sleep, too," I murmur as I feel myself drifting. "You need rest to heal."