The Beast

Chapter Twenty-Five

"My mother?"

I'm sorry Ylvir. You have lost much, and for that I share your sorrow.

A flicker of his previous anger returned as he shoved the dragon's warm scales from him with a growl.

"Do not pretend to know my pain," he snarled, stumbling at his wounds once more.

The dragon returned his growl with her own.

You forget that I have lost a great deal, myself.

The flicker disappeared and regret returned. Ylvir hung his head, recalling what she had showed him that night.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

The dragon nodded in acceptance.

Ylvir looked past her to the cottage, where he knew his mother lay, still dead. A part of him wished she would simply step through the cottage door, smile on her face as she called him in for dinner. But she never did, and she never would. Ylvir knew he could not leave her there.

"I have to bury her."

The dragon looked him up and down. Your wounds are still too grievous for such things.

He looked back at her, his heart so obviously broken it showed in his very eyes without her having to peer into his mind. "I can't leave her there."

Slowly the dragon nodded. Would it be acceptable for me to do it for you?

Ylvir paused, thinking. "You can dig the grave, but...I think I should lay her to rest."

The dragon bowed her head in agreement. So it shall be.

The dragon offered her shoulder to Ylvir as they made their way to the small cottage. Inside, the evidence of his struggle with man stained what had once been his home. He left the dragon at the door, as her size would not allow her entry. Struggling to stay upright, he crawled toward the body of his mother, grateful that she had miraculously been unblemished by the fight that ensued after her passing, even somehow looking better in death than when he had seen her alive--like she was already at peace.

He regretfully held the neck of her clothes in his teeth. unceremoniously dragging her outside the cottage, as that was the only way he was currently able to. When he came back to the dragon, he was short of breath, his wounds searing in pain.

The dragon looked to him. Shall we lay her beside your father?

Ylvir's unstable breathing choked further. He had almost forgotten about his father. He still wasn't entirely sure what happened. He wished he had been there. He wished a lot of things had gone differently. But there was nothing for it, now. He raised his eye to meet the dragon's.

"I think she would have preferred that," he answered, remembering how distraught his death made her. His parents really did love each other. They should be laid together. The only trouble was he did not know his father's final resting place.

The dragon once again nodded her assent.

Ylvir was about to voice his quandary, but the dragon had already picked up his mother's body reverently, walking off with purpose. He followed slowly behind until the came to a spot close to the forests edge where he could see a structured pile of rocks--a cairn. This was where his father laid.

Take her for a moment, the dragon said, setting Aloris in Ylvir's waiting arms. The dragon made quick work of digging the grave, her mighty paws scooping great piles of snow and dirt beside the spot where the cairn stood. When it was a sufficient depth, she turned to Ylvir, awaiting his part.