“No, not what you would find valuable. We have no gold or anything else you might need for your hoard.”
“That’s what I thought. Nothing in there called to me. Except—”
He gives me a weird look, then gets to his feet.
“Except what?”
He points to the raptor. “Are you going to eat that creature or not?”
Huh. I think he almost said something important there. “I can’t. I’ll use some parts of it. In fact, I should start to cut into it before it gets too stiff.”
He snorts. “Remind me to never do any hunting for you again.”
“No, it was kind of you to bring me this. But if there is a next time, I can make more use of a smaller creature. Like the things that look like sheep? Or turkeys?”
“I will carefully note down your order next time,” he deadpans.
This guy is too sarcastic for words.
I stand up on sore legs. It’s been a whole day of walking, and they demand more rest. But this is important.
Caronerax drags the not-raptor closer to the fire. He walks over to the lake and dips his boot into it again, splashing like a toddler in a puddle, as if he can’t believe he’s unable to walk on the surface.
With his golden locks of hair and his dense, black stubble, he looks both angelic and devilish, both softly beautiful and unspeakably manly at the same time. It’s a contrast that could confuse the hell out of a poor philosophy student like me. All I know is that it’s extraordinarily attractive.
I get busy with my little knife, carving up the leg of the raptor to where I know there are thin, but strong tendons pretty close to the skin.
It’s dirty work, and by the end I’ve got dino blood up to my elbow. But I also have a long, white tendon that will be a much better string for my not-fishing rod than the braided bark. The claw I wanted to extract is attached to the bones of the raptor, and my knife is too small to get it out.
I sit down at the fire again.
Caronerax is strolling carelessly along the shore, elegant and powerful and dangerous.
The cavemen in the tribe have a bubble of safety around them, something about their presence and competence that makes you seek them out for their protection in the jungle. This dragon guy has more like a sphere of danger around him. A volume of space you can enter but not leave alive.
At least that’s what I should feel. But I also feel that I’m safe with him. Safe from everything else, that is. Not safe from him. Not at all.
I put more wood on the fire, then sit down in front of the dead not-raptor and lean back on its cooling carcass. It smells really bad, but my back needs the support right now.
A chill goes through me. But it’s from the cool air, not because I’m about to spend the night in a strange forest with a murderer as my only company.
7
- Jennifer -
I wake up with a start, looking around anxiously. But there are no obvious dangers.
The fire has burned down, but the embers still glow. I’m chilly, but not so bad that I’m shivering.
The sky is getting brighter.
The dragon is nowhere to be seen.
Well, I survived the night. And I think I slept well. Even though I’m still hungry, I feel pretty much ready to attack the day and make as much progress towards the village as I can.
WIth or without the dragon. He probably got impatient and decided to go on alone, which is… well, I guess it’s fair enough. But it makes me feel less secure, and the brightening forest starts to feel full of dangers again.
I splash water in my face and briefly consider taking a quick dip, but the water is too cold and I’m not in the mood for it.
I drink my fill of water, quickly replace the string on the not-fishing rod, and walk on with the brightening horizon to my left. That should take me south, and anyway it’s the only direction I can walk that’s not blocked by a lake.
Of course, I will sooner or later come to a place where there’s no obvious way south, and at that point I’ll have to backtrack.
My legs are sore and stiff from yesterday, but after a few paces they warm up and I can tell they will handle one more day like this.