Page 89 of Upon Buried Embers
“He wants me to learn and understand because he thinks maybe I can help with the missing eggs.” His ears flick back at that. “I don’t… know how to do this.”
I flap my arms around, the bucket knocking into my leg. “And I’ve never heard of anyone being able to understand dragons, but…” Drogonah stares at me, and I feel foolish for even talking to him. I sigh. “Could you please heat some stones so I can leave you in peace?”
He looks down at the stone before him, the pile next to him, and then back up to me.
He opens his mouth, and relief fills me that he’s going to actually heat them for me this time. But then he snaps it shut, huffs, and lays his head back on his tail.
“Really?” I throw my hands up, dropping the bucket.
I sit on the warm floor, the clang making the blue one growl and I wince.
“I don’t get it,” I whisper to him, rare frustration coming to the surface. “You clearly hate me, for whatever reason. Though, just my existence seems to be aperfectreason. Right? Is it because you didn’t eat me for dinner? That’s not my fault, that’s your Dragonbond’s. He told you not to.”
I pick at my fingers.
“I didn’t ask to be here, you know? In fact. I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t want to be sold to a Master, I didn’t want to be a slave and have iron wrapped around my neck for years. I didn’twant to be beaten or starved or have broken bones, and I didn’t want to come here and be just as hated by everyone, including dragons!”
I jolt, realizing that I’m shouting, my lungs sucking in heavy breaths as tears sting my eyes.
“I didn’t want any of it. I wanted it to end. I was ready for it.” I sniffle, wiping at my eyes.
My head falls forward, my eyes squeezing shut.
It’s just all so pointless.
Iam pointless.
There may be food in my stomach and clothes on my back, but it doesn’t change that I’m being swallowed whole. It doesn’t change everything that has happened to me, everything thatwillcontinue to happen to me. I know at some point I’ll be passed on to another or back to Master because no one wants me.
That’s how I ended up sold in the first place.
Because no one wants to keep me.
A stupid slave. A disgusting elf. A useless—
Light penetrates my eyelids, followed by gentle heat.
My head snaps up, tears tracking down my cheeks as I watch Drogonah release a small, steady stream of fire onto the stone I placed before him.
I wipe my eyes. He doesn’t look at me, but when the stone is sufficiently heated, he stops, eyes flicking up to me.
Getting to my feet, I grab the bucket and place the stone quickly inside, before putting another stone in front of him and wait.
He watches me while I watch him, and then after a moment, he heats that one too. I don’t dare say another word.
Once I have the bucket full, I grab the handle with both hands and heave it up. I re-wrapped my hands with bandages this morning, well, Rohan did, so the pain isn’t as intense.
I hobble toward the exit of the cave, but I turn to Drogonah before I round the corner.
“Thank you.” I croak out, and he huffs, lays his head back down and goes to sleep, but there’s a small smile gracing my face.
I leave the cave, the snow falling heavier as I make my way back to Rohan’s home. It’s hard work, and I’m sweating and panting once I reach the door to what I’ve started calling the heating room.
Pushing inside and catching my breath, I feel the stones. They’re still really warm, and I wonder if that is because it’s Drogonah’s fire.
I place them on the pillars one by one, trying to be quick about it so I can go inside to the fire for a little while. When I get to the last stone, I know I’m eight short, so I will have to go back after a quick drink.
Heading inside, I place more wood on the fire in the sitting area and warm my hands before taking a drink to soothe my parched throat.
