A Questionable Quest

Chapter 13... in which I pity parents and train a fearsome beast

It was pitch black when something beneath my head stirred.

It was Van.

My groggy brain realised (groggily, of course) that I'd dozed off on his shoulder. My cheek was pressed uncomfortably against his metal shoulder plate. His breath stirred the top of my hair when he spoke. "He's crying again."

"Dero?"

"Mhm." His whispered words were gravelly with sleep. "He's probably thirsty."

"I'll go-"

"It's okay," Van cut me off. He stood up with a groan. "I'm already up. You should lay out a blanket and sleep."

I just nodded, unable to think about much else. "Okay." I moved, zombie-like, to my own bag and pulled out a blanket.

Van moved to the pile of clothes that held our newest companion. "Next time, though," he said, placing a bowl of water in front of the dragon (Dero quickly shoved his head -- horns and all -- into the bowl and drank), "he's all yours."

I mumbled an incoherent sound of agreement, then pulled a second blanket over my legs and fell asleep.

* * * * * * *

I wasn't certain how much longer it was before something sharp nudged at my shoulder. And squeaked. In my ear.

I cracked an eye.

Dero watched me, wide-eyed, head tilted, sitting about half a foot away. His yellow eyes glinted in the dim -- early -- morning light.

I pushed myself up onto one elbow. "What?"

The dragon squeaked again.

"Mhm. Yup. Coming right up." I rubbed at my eyes. Then pushed to my feet with a groan -- a soft groan, though. I didn't want to wake Van.

We'd stayed up late last night. Talking, joking, brainstorming what to do with Dero, arguing about whose nationality it should take. (I said mine, seeing as I'd been the one to chase after him. "Without my quest," Van had argued, "you wouldn't have even come across him.")

Apparently, we'd fallen asleep before deciding a winner of that final argument.

Or, at least, I'd fallen asleep.

On his shoulder. For hours.

The camp was still overcast in shadow as I moved quietly about. The sky, which glowed a grey-ish sort of pink, illuminated the ground enough to see basic outlines, but only just barely. I jammed my toe against the same rock three times (and spouted my fair share of curses) before finally locating the water bowl. Dero followed me about, squeaking when I stood in one spot for too long, and lashing his sharp tail about dangerously.

I still maintained that Dero of Harvenmor sounded much better than Dero of Portsburring. And nothing any Prince of Portburring could say would change my mind.

I looked over at Van's just-visible sleeping form.

He let me fall asleep on his shoulder last night.

For hours.

I bit back the dopey grin that had slipped onto my face. No. No. This was not turning into a cheesy romantic fairytale. That was just... just... overly cliched and not at all practical. This was a Knight's Quest for him, and the adventure of lifetime for me. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Besides, I was lying to him. He didn't even know my real name.

Besides, he was... knightly. And annoyingly noble, at times. And, yes, he was much more open minded about magic, and as handsome as possible. And his hair never ruffled. Ever.