Natalie
“What the hell is this?” The man says, storming into the office. Donald and I arrived around eight in the morning and spoke with a kind receptionist who assured us that we could wait in the clan leader’s office. I know without a doubt that the man yelling right now is the leader himself.
It might just be me, but he seems like kind of a dick.
“Good morning, Emerson,” Donald stands and holds his hand out.
Emerson looks at it for a second, and then back at Donald.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says, but just as Donald lowers his hand, Emerson grabs him and pulls him in for a hug. “It’s been a long time, buddy.”
“Too long,” Donald agrees hugging him.
“And who is this beauty?” Emerson asks, turning to me. I blush at the compliment. “Are you mates?”
“No,” I say at the same time Donald says, “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” I squeak out, looking at him.
Now Donald blushes.
Emerson just chuckles.
“I’ll let you kids work that one out later,” he says. He holds his hand out to me. “Emerson,” he says. “And you are?”
“Natalie,” I tell him. “From the Fablestone Clan.”
He cocks his head. “But you’re human.”
“I was raised by dragons, sir.”
“We have a couple of humans here, as well,” Emerson says. “Happy to have you.” He moves confidently in the small office and props himself against the side of the desk. I’m not sure how he does that without the entire desk breaking, to be honest. He’s a big man: one of the biggest I’ve ever seen, and that desk is quite small in comparison to his body.
Emerson looks at both of us in turn, and then he speaks again.
“I think it’s fairly obvious this isn’t a social call, Donald. What can I do for you? My security team tells me you skipped boating in from Nellenston Harbor and instead flew directly over the waters to the island. That was a bold move on your part. You know there are poachers around here from time to time.”
Emerson seems concerned.
“I know, but we didn’t have time to explain anything at the docks.” Apparently, when people visit Dragon Isle, they’re supposed to check in at the Nellenston Harbor and then charter a boat over. This prevents shifters from just flying directly to the island. It enables there to be a sort of screening process that protects the dragons who live on the island. It also protects shifters from being shot at over the waters, which has happened before, apparently.
Living in the middle of a forest clan, we haven’t dealt with random poaching. Our clan is fairly well protected and hidden away. Unless you know what you’re looking for, you aren’t going to find Fablestone on a whim. That’s one of the most wonderful things about our secret home. It’s private. Isolated. Ours.
Emerson’s eyes soften. “What is it you need, brother?
“This,” Donald reaches into the bag he’s carrying. During the flight, I wore my own backpack, along with the shoulder bag that has all of our supplies. Once we arrived, he offered to carry all of the bags, but I insisted on keeping my backpack. I’m not really sure why except that it’s the last thing I have that’s “mine.” I’m wearing borrowed clothing he rustled up for me and everything kind of feels like a whirlwind right now. Nothing feels normal. Everything feels fast and important.
In addition to the herbs and mixtures he needs for the cure for the illness at Fablestone, Donald also brought a set of clothing, which he’s now wearing, and a book. That’s what he reaches for first in the bag: the book. It’s heavy and has this thick, decorated cover. It looks very, very old, and to be honest, I’m a little scared to touch it. The pages look weathered, like they could fall apart at any moment. Donald picks it up easily and flips to a page with a plant. The name of said plant is ridiculously long.
“What is it?” Emerson asks, scrunching up his nose in confusion.
“Our clan is in trouble,” he says. “We’ve encountered a sickness and we need this plant to create a cure.”
“How can I help you find it?” Emerson asks, instantly at alert, and I realize this is one of my favorite things about shifters. There are no questions asked right now. There’s nothing except compassion and acceptance and a willingness to help.
“It’s in the center of the island,” Donald explains. “It’s native to Dragon Isle.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“It’s quite rare and unless you’re making this particular potion, it’s a useless plant.”
“You can help yourself to as much as you need,” Emerson tells him.
“Thank you,” Donald says. “We can find it on our own. We don’t need any assistance.”
“You shouldn’t encounter any trouble,” Emerson says carefully. “But I’m going to send Anthony with you as a precaution.”
“Anthony?”
“He’s one of my best,” Emerson explains. “He’ll help you with anything you need, and he’s very familiar with the center part of the island. He’s got a place out there, so he may be able to locate this plan faster than if you go on your own.”
“Thank you,” I tell Emerson.
“Anything for a fellow clan,” he says.
“For your trouble,” Donald pulls out the vase and hands it to Emerson. The dragon’s eyes light up. For a brief second, I think he’s going to say it’s too much, that he can’t accept the gift, but he does no such thing. Instead, Emerson simply nods and smiles.
“Thank you, my friend.”
We all hug once more and then Emerson calls Anthony, who agrees to meet us outside the office in five minutes. We wait in silence, choosing to be quiet for a few minutes. It’s now that I finally allow my mind to wander. I’ve been so focused on completing each task put ahead of me that I haven’t had time to worry about my dad or my mom or my life in general.
I haven’t had time to worry about Donald or that kiss we shared.
I’ve been too busy trying to hang onto our belongings, too busy trying to make sure we find the island.
Now, though, all I have is time, and as I sneak a quick glance at Donald, I wonder what’s going through that brain of his.