I was backing away from the huge dragon-hybrid-man who was trudging towards me with some sort of intent I did NOT want to process at this moment. The air still had that stupid pinkish hue, and I was desperately trying to latch on to any semblance of sanity in this otherwise crazy ass situation.
“Hey, so like, tell me about your family.” I blurted out, completely terrified and lost for words. I was hoping the complete conversational derailment would snap Caelian from whatever funky vibe he was sporting into reality. To my avid surprise, it worked. Caelian blinked once, twice and took in a deep breath, running his hands through his long hair.
I saw him rub the edge of a slightly pointed ear, nothing like my five-inch-long protrusions, but still different from the usual rounded human shape. It was such a vulnerable motion that it stuck with me long after. He looked back up at me, eyes clear, the weird haze in the air gone and the distant saxophone disappearing like the mist.
“I… I haven’t thought about them in a long time. It’s been centuries since another black dragon graced the skies alongside me.” His golden eyes dimmed slightly as he looked out into the dark sky.
“Shit, man. I’m sorry. Must be tough, being all alone.” I felt a pang of longing for my mom’s omelette, my dad’s booming laugh, the bombastic side-eye Sparkie threw my way whenever I didn’t share my food. My nose prickled, but I staved off the oncoming tears and smiled at Caelian.
He was watching me intently. “Not anymore.” He said quietly.
“Not anymore what?”
“Nothing. We shouldn’t stay here. There may be more of them.” He abruptly changed the subject and headed firmly into the dark woods. I followed.
We walked for an hour more before fatigue caught up with me. I was fighting to keep my eyes open, all this fresh air and exercise trying to lull me to sleep. I didn’t notice a protruding tree root and tripped like an absolute moron. I did not reach the ground, however, but was cushioned by a wall of smooth, firm flesh as Caelian caught me in his arms.
It belatedly occurred to me that my palms looked tiny in comparison to the width of those shoulders. I could swear they were only slightly wider than mine before, and he was only a head taller. It looked as if he was twice my size in this position. To be fair, he did change his size at will from dragon to human, so maybe he bamfed a little bigger to have a better chance of catching me? Dragons, man.
“Thanks. Could we break camp soon? I’m falling asleep on my feet.” I tried to extricate myself from him, but he refused to let go. I could feel the heat radiating from his chest, which now glistened with… sweat? Why was his hair wet? Did it start raining?
I tried to push off of him to stand straight, and my hand slipped on his enormous peck and slid down. He moaned, deep and guttural. I froze in place, afraid to fucking move, listing all the pages of dragon lore through my head, trying to remember if there was anything about them spontaneously heating up and sweating, maybe from an excess of fire in their belly? Anything but the uncomfortable thought that in this fantasy story I had the misfortune to encounter a dragon in freaking heat!
“Don’t… move…” he mumbled, the distant saxophone increasing in volume along with my dread. I ignored him and pushed off violently, using my dexterity to balance myself as I pointedly refused to look at him.
“Oh, well, what would you know. A cave. Perfect for camp.” I rattled off and nearly ran towards it. I heard Caelian fucking growl behind me and swore under my breath.
He did behave himself as I was setting up camp. When I pointedly looked at him and then at the bundle of twigs that was going to be the campfire, he didn’t protest my use of him as a glorified flint and lit it without comment. It was quiet and peaceful here; whatever this blight was, it was apparently not severe enough to spread through the entire forest. I could feel Caelian’s eyes on me and every attempt he made to speak up and then stopping himself. With everything quieting down, I inherently felt the entire setting was giving me a cue to ask him questions, bond, get that ‘Now that we are not in danger, tell me about yourself’ exposition dump over and done with. But I simply turned away and went to bed.
Whatever this stupid story was, at least I had the early warning system of those damn saxophones giving me a heads-up. As long as I kept it from getting too intense, maybe I could get away with it. I probably would never be able to listen to jazz again, though.
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