Page 15 of Avelina

He snorted. “You’re in no position to judge.”

I looked down at myself. I was covered in dried mud, blood, and snot. My hair was absolutely disgusting, as were my hands. I’m pretty sure I had smears of mud across my face, intermingled with second-degree burns. I looked like an extra from a bad zombie movie. I groaned, wondering if they had showers in this world. Aaron was already walking away.

“What are you planning to do with that thing?” I asked, hurrying after him.

“I wasted a bolt on it,” he said. “The least it can do is provide us with a meal. Come on, my cottage is just over the next hill.”

I looked down at Rogue. He had his doggy smile back on, but I noticed that his whole face and chest were covered in dragon blood. His nose looked raw.

“Oh my Roogy-Roo, are you okay?” I bent down to examine him more closely. His fur had protected his chest and some of his face, but he had burns around his eyes and nose and inside his giant Dumbo ears. “Oh, Rogue, does it hurt, buddy? When we get to where we’re going, I’ll clean you up and put some ointment on your face, okay?” He wagged his tail. It seemed like I was more upset by the burns than he was.

I stuck out my lower lip, kissed the top of Rogue’s head, then stood back up. Aaron had paused to watch our little interaction. He had a strange look on his face.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head, which I understood to mean “nothing,” then he continued walking.

The dragon’s dead eyes, having lost their vermilion glow, stared up at me dully from behind him, daring me to follow.

Chapter Six

“Dragon,” Linorra said. “Please don’t be afraid.” She could sense what he felt, for that was her greatest gift.

“I am not afraid of a sprite like you,” the dragon said.

“I am not a sprite,” Linorra said, giggling. “I’m just a girl, and I want to be your friend.”

Aaron’s cottage was well hidden. It was tucked between two fallen redwood logs, which, even lying sideways, rose above the roof. The logs were covered in several of those giant, fluffy ferns, which I had dubbed “spider ferns.” To my dismay, the roof of the cottage was equally covered in spider ferns, though I heard none of the telltale rustling. The back of the cottage butted up against a half dozen bushy evergreens. It was effectively invisible on three sides and the top, and the small front yard was surrounded by tall bushes. I would have walked right past if he hadn’t pointed it out.

The cottage was made of wood and gray cobblestone with two small windows on either side of the front door. Underneath one window were rounds waiting to be split for firewood, neatly stacked and organized by size. A few pieces of split firewood rested on top. A large metal basin was pushed up against the front of the cottage with several wicked-looking hooks protruding from the stone above. In the yard, there was a firepit, dug into the ground and edged with more stone.

Aaron dropped the dragon carcass next to the firepit and stopped to listen. We stood silently for an endless minute, then Aaron snapped his fingers at Rogue, motioning him forward. Rogue ghosted between the cottage and one of the giant logs, disappearing around the back, then appeared again on the other side. He trotted back up to Aaron and sat at his feet.

The big man peered down at the dog, then up at the cottage, finally stepping toward it. In his right hand, he gripped a knife with a wooden handle and a serrated blade about ten inches long. It looked small in his hand. He held it out in front of him as he walked toward the front door. I moved to follow him, but he waved me back, shaking his head.

I stood there, useless, wondering what fresh horror I was about to witness. Rogue stayed with me. I couldn’t imagine anyone finding this place, and I questioned, again, why Aaron helped me. He had dodged that inquiry earlier.

How did he know that I wouldn’t attack him while his back was turned, or that I wouldn’t report his location to someone? Based on the painstaking camouflage he’d arranged, he was clearly hiding. If there was such a thing as a murder cabin, this would be it. I worried I was making a huge mistake.

Aaron opened the front door. It wasn’t locked, but it also didn’t look like the doorknob had a keyhole. Perhaps it could only be barred from within. I looked behind me, unsure of which was more unsafe, the house or standing outside of it.

I scowled down at the dragon’s corpse. “We’re going to cook you, not the other way around,” I mumbled.

Rogue sniffed the dragon carcass. Psycho Snow White had also known my dog. She had been looking for him. What did that mean? Could she locate Rogue somehow? I considered telling Aaron that in case she followed us, but what if he was working with her?

I sighed. If I wanted to make it out of this mess and go home, I would need help, which meant I had to trust someone. Thus far, Aaron had kept me alive. In the absence of a viable alternative, I decided I could trust him a little longer.

Finally, Aaron’s deep voice called from inside the cottage, “Okay.” Rogue sneezed at one of the dragon’s feathers, then headed for the door. He passed Aaron, who walked out the front door toward me with rope in his hands. His eyes were trained on me, almost glowing with intensity.

My heart skipped a beat as I backed up, panicking. I didn’t think I could outrun Aaron from this proximity, but I certainly wouldn’t let him tie me up without a struggle.

“It’s not for you,” Aaron said, rolling his eyes. “It’s for the dragon. I have to hang it to butcher it. Rhoya, woman, get a hold of yourself. You’re all over the place. First you giggle like an underling, then you scream and cry. You’re worse than me.”

I stared at him, shaking, and feeling very foolish, especially given the “just trust him” speech I had given myself ten seconds earlier. I covered my face with my hands, trying to calm down. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just . . . I don’t know you. I still don’t understand why I’m here or why you’re helping me. Who are you? How did you even know I would be out there?”

I had been planning to deviously extract that information through charm and guile. Instead, I made the very sensible choice to just blurt out my questions. Hopefully he would still make me dinner.

“I told you my name,” he said.

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