The Rider's Truth.

Music

Unedited. 

Chapter Eight - Music.

Nethore's ears swivelled as the noise of the crowd grew, whispers reverberating around us. I even caught the name 'Vidalin' uttered more than once. I couldn't care less about the burning whispers behind me. For the first time since he uttered my name and I was lost, I felt whole. I tipped my forehead against his snout, feeling the exhale of his breath and with it, an abundance of emotion from him that he had knotted as tightly as I had learned too.

"Nethore..."

Sensing that nearly broke my heart; he shouldn't have to learn to hide his emotions. He was young – a year old dragon was well beyond the bounds that a year- old child would be, but he was still mine to protect.

"Where were you, human?" He asked quietly, gently probing my mind and trying not to be intrusive. I knew he could sense my mind's delicate balance and see the scars that the others couldn't because they were embedded across my mind, but he didn't know why they were there yet. Even asking that question, instead of demanding, instead of delving deep into my mind showed, me how much he had grown.

How much I had missed.

"I missed your hatching. I missed eight months of your life. Milestones that should have been shared with me..." Tears collected along my lashes, guilty pain gnawing at my insides. I wouldn't cry for myself, but for the pain I was making him go through.

His mind was a similar knot of grief and anger, a hard knot, like mine, that would have to be unravelled over time. Flicking thoughts of fury when he just could not sense me. The deep ache in his soul when he couldn't find the bond that strengthened him. No one to turn to in his mind.

Just a gaping space and terrible loneliness.

His mind was merged with mine, but wary eyes tracked the on-lookers, his body coiled like a primed weapon. We were both ticking time-bombs in the middle of a crowded city.

I pulled back, meeting his eyes once more. "Let's get out of here, Ne."

There was a quick, bright spark of joy. "Human."

His massive body shifted as he lowered himself, turning his head to keep the crowd in check. A mixture of weaker muscles and a taller climb made it harder before, but settling on his back, even without a saddle made me feel like the old Neely. A girl who had the whole world before her – a dragon at her side and hope to make it through.

I would laugh at her now.

The derision flickered away when Nethore heaved himself up again and I relished in the familiar feel of his movement beneath me. I could sense the incredible power of his body and heard that age-old, recognisable rustle of great wings stirring behind him, the stalks of his wings banded with muscles that even there, contained more strength than any human.

He snarled once more, snapping viciously at the man who had dared to grab me once more. The crowd fell back, ducking down under his shadow as Nethore leapt, bounding over them and then again, wings snapping out and strong, downward sweeps, we were climbing into the air. The wind smacked at my face, snatching my yell from the tip of my tongue. I held on tight to the duller spikes along his shoulder, too caught up in the moment to even think about falling.

Nethore's mind cleared as he flew, worries seeping away as the ground disappeared beneath him. The sprawling expanse of Ithrall faded as he rose, barbs sliding back into his scales with the fins along his tail and back, almost translucent membrane tinged obsidian fluttering as the wind passed over it.