Promise the Sky

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Kiara

 

 

 

The light is gentle, the wind pleasant. I open my eyes slowly, breathing in the scent of fresh grass and waking earth. This is not the proper time to be stirring, I can see it immediately thought it does not take long to discover the reason for my disturbance.

"Get up, get up. Wake up!"

The Dragon-herd's voice is not exactly panic filled, but he is stressed. And every single word is clipped. The upper class accent comes through much stronger, and I find myself jumping to attention, just on reflex.

 Regardless of my speed, he is gone by the time I am up. Drake pulls himself to weary feet, wrapping a tail around my ankle. The sky is grey with dull light, of a time just before dawn; an effect only a baker can appreciate.

This is not right; it is too early.

Drake demands my attention with a thought and a tug of his tail. I catch his eye, wanting to know what is happening. His answer is simple.

It is going to rain.

I want to question but the Dragon-herd is back. If anything, he appears more rushed.

"What am I going to do with you?" He waves an arm Drake's way. "That one's not strong enough to carry you."

Ella saunters calmly into the ring, antithesis to the Dragon-herd's stress.

He is upset because he has lost the little ones, she informs.

"The little ones?"

Drake supplies an image of two small serpents, tiny babies no larger than a dog or a wolf. The Dragon-herd knows instantly that this information has been transferred.

"They'll never get off the ground without me." Almost, almost, he seems to babble, "And the rest of the nest has already gone."

I will help. And that is the thing about dragons, I do not need to say the words. The thought shoots through the group's chain of consciousness faster than I could form the sentence anyway.

The Dragon-herd is already gone, storming off through the long grass. He is upset, but he appears angry.

Drake turns his gaze to the sky, concerned, and then begins the search. We both take the same direction and he is so highly strung that we seem to have melded. I cannot work out whose decision it was to walk this way. He does not think it matters.

I sweep the ground, wondering how difficult it could be to find two sparkling serpents. But in this cursed light I can barely make out the details of anything. Drake's attention is focused skyward as often as forward, and when I look up to assess what bothers him, I realise that his bright colouring is strangely muted.

He wants to go, he needs to go. The juveniles are unimportant, to him, and when the first fat  raindrop lands on my cheek, he becomes highly agitated. I can understand; the water stings, it makes me temporarily groggy.

He has to go. He has to go.

"Go, then."

He isn't strong enough. He wants to take me but he cannot.