Page 41 of Dragons' Future

“How about now?”

He sighs, lowering his voice. "Emric."

“What? He followed us?”

"Not so much followed, as was brought along. I grabbed him on our way out," Cyril says, a coldness in his voice that is so unlike him. "He is too useful to let die quite yet."

A rush of terror shoots through me. "But what if he?—"

"He can do nothing to us,” Cyril promises. “To any of us.”

"Are you bloody insane? The eggs. The hatchling. He -”

"He can’t hurt them. I promise. The priests' magic requires runes to be meticulously traced. And he can do no tracing with no arms.” A grim flash of steel crosses Cyril’s face. “Our greatest challenge is keeping him alive until we let Quinton have him.”

I cringe, but nod, turning away from Cyril just in time to see the hatchling twist away from the sheep and take off toward an elderly looking human couple making their way toward us. I take off after the pup. It runs faster, now screeching at the top of its lungs and belching flame.

Cyril is beside me now, his longer legs overtaking mine despite his exhaustion. Lee, Rand and Broker join the chase with grim familiarity. This must not be the pup’s first attempt to escape.

“Stop,” I shout. “Get back here.”

“Halt!” Cyril’s booming voice echoes with authority through the pasture.

“Craaaaaa! Craaaa!” the hatchling replies with utter disregard for our wishes.

Cyril reaches the pup first, swiping for it with his arms. Instead of surrendering, the hatchling changes course, avoiding getting grabbed with frightening efficiency. Cyril curses.

I take the next swipe, somehow managing to grab the pup. It squeaks and lets out a puff of flame that singes my sleeve before Cyril quickly pats out the small flame. Unsatisfied with that, the hatchling produces a larger flame and screeches at the top of its well developed lungs. Their wings beat my face. I cringe. "What's it doing?"

“Trying to burst our eardrums,” Cyril says darkly.

“Asking for dinner, clearly.” Now just steps away, the woman separated from her husband and marches toward me. “Give me that child.”

“It’s not quite a child,” I say cautiously. Now that they are closer, I’m sure they are fully mortal.

“Dragon pups are not it’s.” The woman chides. “Really, I’d expect you lot to know better.” Clearly lacking any self preservation instinct, she plucks the hatchling from my arms and wraps it in her very flammable shawl. Within moments, the screaming pterodactyl is swaddled tightly, the wings that have been beating me into a pulp now wrapped tight to its body.

I open my mouth to protest, but the little traitor goes quiet at once.

“There is a sweet girl," the woman coos. “Tired and hungry, aren’t you? Of course you are.”

“Told you it’s a girl,” Lee whispers to Rand, while the tips of Cyril’s scales turn a shade of embarrassed purple. None of us had checked that part. In our defense, we’ve been a bit busy.

The woman snorts in soft amusement, then returns her attention to the pup. “Look at those beautiful eyes. Just like your big sister’s when she was your age.”

Big sister. I know even before the woman gives me another of her gentle smiles that, impossible as it is, it's me she is talking about. Me. My stomach twists into knots. The couple’s comfort with the hatchling, their utter lack of surprise at the appearance of dragon shifters in the middle of a far off homestead, the way my dragon is content here, none of it is a coincidence.

Cyril shifts his body for an easier attack vector. He’s worked out the not-a-coincidence thing too. And he is ready for violence, even if these two elderly humans don’t look capable of much.

“Who… ” I swallow, the phantom familiarity of this place suddenly clicking into place. “I’ve been here before,” I whisper. I lived in that cottage, swam in the mountain lake. This is where my mother and I hid before she bound me. I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. I have so many questions, I don’t know where to start. “Who are you?” I ask.

“Agatha. And this here is Jonas, my husband.” She pats the older man’s hand. “And yes, we’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Kitterny.”

Jonas gives me a nod, but then his attention focuses beyond my shoulder, his brows pulling together. “Are those dragon eggs?” he asks. “Four dragon eggs?”

Agatha’s head snaps around, her eyes widening. For the first time since the woman walked up to us from the cabin she looks like what one would expect of a human besieged by a dragon pack. “That… That we were not waiting for at all.”

CHAPTER 24

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