Page 22 of Her Fierce Dragon
“Yeah, yeah. You’ve been saying that for centuries and you’ve yet to do it, old man.” Vander chuckled.
“It’s all right, big guy,” she murmured. “We have forever.”
He nodded and brushed past her to follow Vander. A smile lingered on her lips as she followed behind them.
It had to be the jealous dragon in him asking the questions. When she was younger, her grandmother would tell her tales of dragons, and she’d always thought that they were made up. Grandmother had explained how a dragon would love their mate for all eternity, be protective, cherish and spoil her.
She stumbled as she thought back. Was that her grandmother telling her then that her mate would be a powerful dragon shifter?
Willow closed her eyes. A gentle breeze blew past her.
Her grandmother was wiser than Willow ever knew. When she rescued her grandmother, she would hug the elder woman until she couldn’t squeeze any more.
They came upon a campsite that had been cold for days. Feno and Vander walked around it, trying to find clues. Willow looked up. The moon was out, even though they had at least another hour of sunlight.
“Wolf shifters have been here,” Feno growled, bending down to the ground. He trailed his fingers through the loose dirt and glanced around.
“Do you recognize any of the scents?” Vander asked.
“They’re faint. I’m having a hard time catching the smell. The wind is ruining what little scent is left.” Feno stood.
“I know a way to tell if my grandmother was here,” she announced. She stepped forward and knew that the spell she would have to use would work much easier with Feno present. Even Vander would be able to help her. With the help of two dragon shifters, she would be able to pull it off. She wouldn’t even need the moon’s power.
“How?” Feno turned to her.
She kicked off her sandals and walked around the dirt. Using her Earth magic, she would need to be one with the earth and not have any barriers between her and the ground. Her power trickled up her body, and she opened herself to the world around her.
“It’s a spell my grandmother taught me when I was younger. It was one I was to use if I was ever lost from her or my uncle. It was useful when we went out at night and the moon was at its highest.”
“What do you need?” he asked.
She moved toward him and smiled. “You by my side to act as my conductor.”
“I’ll always be by your side,” he vowed, his eyes searching hers.
She smiled. Vander rolled his eyes and chuckled. Feno shot him a glare, but his younger brother just ignored it. She turned around and reached into her satchel that lay against her hip and drew out a dagger.
“You and knives,” Feno muttered.
“I’m looking for someone who’s a blood relative to me, so I have to use a few drops. Don’t tell me you’re squeamish around blood?” she teased him with a wink.
“Of course not. I just don’t like the thought of you cutting yourself.”
She studied the campsite in front of her. The signs of a fire were at the middle of the area. Footprints marred the land before her.
She muttered in the ancient language of her people, calling on the elements to help her. Piercing the tip of her finger, she squeezed out two small drops, offering a bit of herself as payment.
Her skin tingled, and a rush of her power surged from the tips of her toes and coursed up through her body. The air around them became electric. Feno placed his hands on her, letting their energy mesh together. Pulling away from her mate, she closed her eyes and opened them again, and this time, the campsite was active with a bunch of rough-looking characters. A few were even in their shifted forms, walking around as wolves.
They were a rowdy bunch, but she didn’t have much time. The scene before her sped up, and like a beacon, a flash of light appeared. The earth was showing her the answer to her question. It used the offering of her blood to signal the traces of someone who shared blood with her had been there, had bled there.
Her grandmother had suffered an injury.
Anger grew in her chest at the thought of someone harming her grandmother, but then a calming came over her. The scene of the camp rushed past her, as if someone spun it around to allow her to see the other side.
Delia sat on the ground against a log, rope tied across her chest, keeping her hands to her sides. Willow watched her grandmother wiggle in place, and with no one seeing what she was doing, cut herself on a jagged rock in the ground, leaving a few drops of her blood.
Willow smiled. Her grandmother was a sharp woman and must have remembered the spell she had taught Willow.
