I can’t help it. Having hurt him this badly is starting to give me a guilty conscience. Sure, I had every reason to shoot him back at the village. But this injury seems to be sapping him of strength.
I add a new layer of paste, using the last of the small amount I was able to wrap into a pack of leaves. “Not really. I was defending myself against what I thought was an attacker.”
“I see.” His voice is flat and dangerous.
“I may have been wrong, of course,” I add quickly, stroking his scales with paste in an attempt to soothe. “But why did all the dragons attack the village last night?”
“I can only speak for myself,” Caronerax sighs. “I came into your village on my own, spurred on by the certainty that something big was about to happen. The air was thick with tension. Every tree stood as if quivering with expectation of a major event of some kind. I can only assume that the others felt the same and knew that this was the time to act, to do something. You must have felt the planet holding its breath.”
I carefully pat the newly pasted area of his chest. “That should do it. Yeah, I guess I felt something last night. Except I feel that every night, the sense that something bad is about to happen. I’m usually right.” I sit down, not as far from him as before.
“It was the earthquake,” Caronerax says, shifting his position. “When it came, it released the tension.”
I put another branch on the fire. The lake is still and flat, reflecting the blue shine from the moon Yrf overhead.
Hmm. If this place were in fact really far from home, like on a totally different latitude, wouldn’t the moon be lower in the sky? Right now it looks much the same as it does from the village. I have to check the sun tomorrow, see if it is lower in the sky around noon.
“It wrecked our village.”
“Lesser beings and their reliance on their temporary constructions,” he scoffs. “No sense of what is important.”
I suck on the tip of my index finger. Working on the not-fishing rod, I got a splinter without noticing. “We kind of need those things to live. What is important to you? Only the hoard?”
The dragon stretches out his long legs. “There is nothing ‘only’ about the hoard. Not in any way. The hoard is life, the fullness of experience, the ultimate reward and bliss. No lesser being can understand.”
“And still, here you are. Light years from your hoard.”
He chuckles. “Not quite.”
I glance up at him. “No? You have collected a hoard here?” It makes sense. He was able to fly in his dragon form, something that hardly any of the other dragons have the energy to do anymore without their hoards.
His hand shoots out as quick as lightning and grabs my wrist. His eyes penetrate me, one bright yellow and the other a vivid blue. He brings my hand closer to him, forcing me to get up on my knees on the gravel and awkwardly lean in.
“I mean, it’s none of my business!” I exclaim, afraid of what he will do to me.
Caronerax holds up one finger, tipped with a pointy claw that glints dangerously in the moonlight. He studies my hand and brings the claw closer. I’m powerless to resist, although I pull at my hand, afraid of being hurt.
Then, still paralyzing me with his gaze, he digs the claw into the tip of my index finger.
I prepare to scream, but then I realize it doesn’t hurt.
He holds on to my arm, then brings the claw up to my eyes. The tiny splinter is hooked on the tip of it, barely visible in the flickering light from the fire.
He rubs the tip of my finger on the still wet paste on his chest, then lets go of it. “Let’s see if it heals you as well as me.”
I study my fingertip. It’s none the worse for wear, and the sting from the splinter is gone.
“Thanks,” I say weakly, bewildered by this turn of events.
“Of course, they attacked your village,” the dragon says into the fire. “There is no other place to attack. The tribes have no valuables and are dangerous. Your village is more dangerous, but there might be value. Is there?”
“Um,” I say, having some trouble keeping up with his sudden change of topic.