Dragon Actually
“I can’t go on like this.”
Morfyd dropped Gwenvael, his head slamming into the stream. Annwyl grinned as Gwenvael cursed the woman.
Morfyd moved over to Annwyl and looked at her. “You can’t go on like what?”
“My days with the knight. My nights with the dragon. It’s becoming impossible.”
“Annwyl, talk to him.”
“I tried that. I can’t think when I’m around him. He does this thing with his tongue. . . .”
“Annwyl! I mean the dragon. Talk to the dragon.”
“I tried last night, but . . . I think he grows tired of me. And what if he laughs?”
“He hasn’t. And he won’t.” Morfyd smiled. “Trust me.”
“But . . .”
“No. I don’t want to hear it. Just tell the big bastard how you feel. How you feel about him. He needs to hear it. And you need to say it.”
“But the knight . . .”
“Don’t worry about him. Talk to the dragon. The knight can wait.”
Annwyl took a deep breath. She had to do something. Soon she would face her brother and most likely death. She didn’t want to go to her grave knowing that her weakness held her back from the one thing that truly mattered to her.
She nodded and headed back to the cave. Back to her dragon.
Fearghus followed the sound of retching. He found his brother doubled over and Morfyd patting him on the back.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He ate too many soldiers last night.”
“Soldiers? Here?”
Morfyd nodded. “Lorcan’s men. Don’t worry. I took care of them.”
“But this means they know Annwyl is here.”
Morfyd shook her head as she rubbed Gwenvael’s sweaty brow. “Not necessarily. It looked more like they were just checking the area. You know, a scouting party.”
Morfyd looked up at her brother and frowned. “Why are you here?”
“What do you mean why am I here?”
“I just sent Annwyl to find you. She wants to talk to you.”
“Talk to me?” He pointed to himself. “Or to me?” He pointed toward his cave.
Morfyd laughed and seemed about to answer when she stopped and stared off behind him.
Fearghus turned around. “What are you doing here?”
Briec, next in line behind Fearghus, leaned against a tree and watched his siblings quietly. Naked, fresh from shifting, his long silver mane of hair stretched down his back and fell across his face and shoulder.
“When there was no answer from you or Morfyd and baby brother didn’t return . . .”
Fearghus shook his head. “Not this again.” He didn’t want to hear it. He wanted to find Annwyl. Hear what she had to say. And no matter what she said, he would tell her the truth. Tell her everything. He couldn’t go on like this anymore.
“I told you not to ignore him.” Morfyd chastised as she helped a very green Gwenvael to his feet.
“Go back to the old bastard and tell him to stay out of my life.”
Briec shook his head. “I can’t.”
Fearghus frowned. “What do you mean you can’t?”
“I mean I can’t . . . because he’s already here. He awaits you in your den.”
Before Fearghus could react, Morfyd’s hand suddenly gripped his arm, nearly tearing the skin off. “Gods, Fearghus. Annwyl.”
“Dragon!” Annwyl called out before she even entered his part of the lair. “Dragon! Are you here?”
She marched into the dragon’s main chamber, the words she needed to tell him on her lips. “Fearghus, I . . .” She stopped.
Although the dragon she now saw before her bore the same size and color as Fearghus, this one’s black mane had silver and white hair streaked through it, and his scales were not as bright. Clearly an older dragon.
And he definitely wasn’t Fearghus.
She stopped and stared at him. The old dragon looked at her.
“You.”
The look of welcome she always saw in Fearghus’s eyes did not spark in this dragon’s. And she knew in that split second he wanted her dead.
She burst into a run, the dragon’s flames just missing her. The dragon took in another deep breath so Annwyl dived behind a large boulder. Flames erupted all around her as she crouched down low. The flames went around the boulder but its heat scared her beyond anything she’d known. He could kill her with one blast. She ignored the panic that began to rise and unsheathed her sword.
After several moments, the flames stopped and she could hear the dragon stomping toward the boulder. She held her breath and waited. He stopped and she glanced over just as his snout came around the boulder, latching on to her scent. She waited until the beast’s head was close enough then she slashed him across the snout. Dragon blood spurted across her arm and the dragon roared in pain and anger as she sprinted out, heading away from the beast. He charged after her. Annwyl knew that in order to survive she needed to let her instincts take over. She weaved between other boulders, using the beast’s size and weight against him.
When he stopped to strike her with flame, she would again hide behind a boulder or a stone wall. But she couldn’t keep it up much longer. She needed to kill the dragon before it killed her. She stayed behind a boulder longer than normal and this time, just as she somehow knew he would, the dragon came from overhead.
As his head silently lowered to get close to her she jumped up on the boulder and onto the beast’s snout. Startled, he gave her the time she needed to run up and over his head, down his neck, across his back, until she reached his tail. She knew he could use it as a weapon, so she moved quickly. She held the tip down with her foot and slammed her sword between it and where the scales were at their smallest and weakest. Where Fearghus once cut his brother’s tail off.