I am Dragon (Dragon Fires Rising Book 2) by Marc Secchia (famous ebook reader TXT) 📕

After waiting a moment to see if she would speak more, Dragon departed soft-pawed to help Azania light a fire – Dragon the firelighter!

Joy in the smallest things. Even if he exploded her pile of sticks on the first attempt.

Chapter 7: Fly High

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, LEAVING a pile of brown scales behind him that he was not at all grumpy about, Dragon winged steadily up-valley between the jagged, white-tipped peaks. By mid-morning, however, the weather had changed for what he liked to call a miserable mountain special. Low, brooding clouds came rolling toward them, soon obscuring the towering cliffs and white-dusted slopes. The chill breeze freshened by the minute, blustering and buffeting like an angry bully blowing his threats.

Suddenly, all was grey and damp. His Riders shivered.

“I’ve never flown through a cloud before!” Inzashu cried, waving her hands as if she could catch the moisture.

Ridiculous girl. He cracked a huge grin.

“I can’t feel my nose anymore,” Azania put in, sounding surprised.

“Hmm, a blue-black Princess, how intriguing,” he said. “Anyone else feeling cold, you poor things?”

At least two people kicked him, if not three.

Since he did not know this terrain well, he reduced altitude until the lay of the ground became clear. Gone, the pretty mauve carpeting of flowers, replaced by dry brown boulders and tan, high-growing clumps of grasses, as tall as Azania. Not saying much, mind, since she was all of four feet and eight inches tall – but she acted taller, he had always thought. Something about the way she filled a lair, or a room, with her presence.

Dragon said, “Bear with me for a moment. I don’t know the area, but usually, caverns start about half a mile higher up , where you see the foot of those vertical cliffs –”

“See?” Azania put in mildly.

“I was speaking metaphorically,” he snorted.

“Ah, I would have completely missed the allusion, but thank you for the Dragonsplanation.”

“The what and how much?”

“A Dragon explanation – I just made that up,” she chortled. “It’s to do with the way certain male creatures must point out the blindingly obvious to the ignorant little females –”

“I’d say, ‘Be silent, little female,’ but as I understand this to be a physiological impossibility for Humankind’s so-called fairer sex …”

“Ooh, fighting talk.”

“If you can’t stand the heat –”

“Don’t pull the Dragon’s tail!” Inzashu yelled, startling them all into laughter.

“Excellent twist,” Yardi smiled back over her shoulder. “I was going to say, don’t stick your hand in the forge, or the Dragon’s jaw for that matter – here, grandmother. Cover your mouth and nose like this against the cold.”

“I am not that feeble yet!”

“Clearly not. Would you like to light our next fire with your Dragon breath?” her granddaughter put in sweetly.

“No need for rudeness, child. Dragon, if you’re intending to find a cave –”

“Ooh! Look, there’s snow on the ground!” Inzashu exclaimed. She was having a squealing morning, Dragon thought sourly, then decided he felt sour about feeling sour. Why slap down another’s joy? “So white! So gorgeous! So fluffy!”

Although, what it was with Humans and fluff, he could not fathom.

And the need to squeak at that ear-hurting pitch. Totally unnecessary, in his expert opinion on the subject. Dragonsplanation indeed!

Yarimda huffed, “Well, if some people would let the old lady with the creaky bones finish, we are not about to find a cavern flying up the middle of a valley in a cloud! You need to go to the edge, Dragon.”

Tell a Dragon how to fly?

“Except for that, grandmother?” Yardi said, pointing.

Four pairs of Human eyes and one pair of Dragon eyes stared at the great hole in the ground in surprise. Perfectly round. Unknowably deep. One thing was for certain. He was not going anywhere near that hole without knowing exactly what had made it. That something was either a natural process, or a creature roughly the size of a Bloodworm.

He growled, “While that’s intriguing, I am not going down there for all the gold in these mountains.”

“Dragon instinct?” his Princess asked.

“No, it’s a vertical hole. The snow which is about to arrive would still be falling on our heads down there, Highness. Then my scales would get wet and I’d be even crabbier than usual. Trust me, none of us want that.”

On that self-deprecating note, he sideslipped in the air and began to hunt in earnest for a cave in which to hide his hoard of Human females, odd collector that he was.

Jolly mountain weather. Predictable in its unpredictability, which had to be the very definition of feminine logic.

There. Dragonsplain that! Or not, if one wanted to live a long life.

* * * *

A brief but violent mountain squall shrouded the upper valley in white. Spring in one place, and a blizzard eighteen miles on. Having found a shallow but serviceable cavern, Dragon blocked most of the weather by dint of planting himself across the entrance. A bitter wind moaned over his back. When it became clear that his Black Roses of the Desert were shrivelling somewhat due to the plummeting temperature, Dragon trialled warming the cavern by breathing fire toward the back. Very soon, he had four eager pairs of hands warming themselves beside the stream of his fire.

All part of the service. Flying cart, royal conveyance, firelighter and now oversized cavern warmer. He was definitely moving up in the world.

Better not sneeze. That could end badly.

As the storm died down, however, the younger Princess decided now was the time to go romp in the snow. Dragon had barely uncurled himself when she returned with a shriek. “Wolf!”

“I’ll pop out and talk to it,” he offered, rising with a yawn and a stretch.

Faced with a Dragon, the grey wolf and its nine hungry companions proved to