A Dragon's Redemption [Book 2 in Rising Dragons]

Chapter XXIII: Dream 12

Thirak's Age: Five years old

Mark's Age: Fourteen years old

It was something of a struggle, pulling myself out of sleep and returning to full consciousness. It wasn't because I was injured or that I hated waking up or any such mundane thing. It was mainly because I was warm and sleepy, and it would be so easy to let myself go and drift back to sleep. Nonetheless, I had something to do. Well, more like, someone was waiting for me and I needed to go back to them.

The warmth from the sun overheard, burning bright and harsh, and the glowing grains of golden sand was all that made up my world. The desert, in its danger and its beauty, was open to me like only the Sky was. Here, alone, I was without company and without judgement. The only negative was the never ending silence that left my thoughts to whirl around in my head, loud and clamouring.

I stretched out, movements slow and languid; lazy. My claws slid through the sand with no resistance, and with a heavy sigh, I lifted my head, finally bothering to look up at the sun and attempt to figure out what time it was. I had never really got the hang of telling the time from the sun, hadn't ever bothered too much with it. I was good enough to figure out I had a few hours left until my rider would murder me – probably by making me actually do all my homework and read the necessary textbooks – because I was so late. I checked the distance of the sun to the horizon and changed my estimate to a single hour. Better safe than sorry after all.

The desert had become my place to be alone, to find solace. It was ignorant of the games we played, the fights I had. It was nothing but sand and wind, hot days and cold nights.

I yawned, jaws clicking together and teeth clamping together. The desert had become an escape and something that was solely mine. It was untainted by everything. The wind caused the sand to shift so even the past was hidden. The only thing that existed in the desert was the present.

I had never met anyone else out here. I had seen shapes in the distance, but never coming closer and always animals. Humans, I knew, lived here in the desert; wanderers. They could never be found in the same place for a long period of time, although – from what I had learnt – they tended to follow specific routes and go back to specific areas, normally places where they had easy access to water. There were multiple groups – tribes. Some children from the tribes become dragon riders, learning that they were more than one soul-spirit-mind-heart-body. If I knew anyone who had once been a desert wanderer, hadn't said. Not that it was important. Once you were found to be a dragon rider then you're taken to a new home, to a place where you will find your partner, where you will find your real family. Few were lucky enough to have blood-kin family join them, like... like no one I knew, because there was blood-kin and there were betrayers.

I stretched out my wings, feeling a grains of sand roll off and return to the ground. With an annoyed flick of my tail, I finally stood up. My paws instantly sunk. I stretched my wings again, this time stretching my neck as well, and rolling my wings in their joints. Nothing popped or cracked, but I felt old regardless. It was, I thought, due to the timelessness that held the desert captive. Despite its ever changing appearance, it never felt like it truly changed.

I flapped my wings, not really testing them but to trick myself into thinking that I really was leaving the desert, rather than trying to stay a few minutes longer. I heaved a sigh and turned my head in the direction of the Dragon Rider Academy. There was someone waiting for me.

I leapt into the sky, wings slamming down and buffeting the sand below. The surface rippled and changed, and I rose into the air regardless. I circled tightly, upwards, and finally felt the heat loosen its hold over me. The tiredness and weariness that clung to me slowly dropped away as the wind screamed past my face, blasting it with humidity.