An hour was all it took for Nokkland to decide that he'd been blackmailed into an adventure with a madwoman. As he trudged along, head down against the never-ceasing wind which blew snow off the peaks and into his face, the sun hesitantly began to peek over the horizon. Its weak light did little to help Nokkland find secure footing. He slipped on yet another loose rock hidden under the treacherous white blanket which covered everything.
"Confound this snow!" he grumbled for Lyren's benefit.
She ignored him, humming to herself and nearly skipping along in front of him. Nokkland rolled his eyes. How on earth was she enjoying this?
He shook his head before following Lyren down into what seemed a cleft in the earth. Nokkland found himself plunging into a small gulley as sheer walls of rock, slick with frozen rivulets of past snow melt, rose on either side of him. Gravel mixed with the lightest dusting of snow crunched beneath their boots. Nokkland figured that most of last night's dump must have blown over the top of the miniature gorge. The fact that, without extending his arms, Nokkland's elbows could brush either side definitely supported that hypothesis.
Here and there, skeletal thornbushes reached out with spindly fingers, clawing at them, attempting to hold them back. Their prickly clutches slowed progress but did little else other than tear loose threads from their clothing. Nokkland jerked his tattered cloak out of the grasp of yet another bramble. The backlash sent him skidding forwards and he careened into Lyren.
She teetered, trying to maintain her balance. It failed her. Together, the two fell onto the floor of the gulley. Much to Nokkland's embarrassment, he found himself landing not next to Lyren, but on top of her. He scrambled to get off but found one of his legs pinned under hers.
Pain exploded between his legs and a second blossom of pain sprouted in his ribs as Lyren kneed him viciously before using her elbow to punch him just below the ribs. Forgetting his embarrassment, Nokkland grabbed her shoulders and rolled so that she was on top of him. Then, using the leg that was still pinned, he shoved his hips upwards, wincing as he did so, and forced Lyren to roll off. He wasted no time in kneeling on her stomach and was moving to pin her arms when he found a dagger at his throat.
He put his hands up in defeat.
"Get off," Lyren hissed.
Nokkland scootched back, rocking slightly to lessen the pain Lyren's kick had produced.
"I could have strangled you," he pointed out, frowning and crossing his arms.
"And I could have slit your throat," she retorted coldly, sliding the dagger back into her boot before rising to her feet.
"Then why bother blackmailing me into taking you with me? And why did you feel it necessary to knee me?!" Nokkland yelled, exasperated.
For a half a second, Lyren looked guilty but then her cross expression returned. Nokkland wondered if he'd imagined the guilt.
"I didn't slit your throat so that should answer one of your questions. As for kneeing you, what would you expect me to do when a guy I don't want is on top of me?" she replied, tersely.
"Give him at least a second to try and get off before causing him enough pain to last a good five minutes! It's not like I wanted to bump into you and I definitely did not want to land on you. But you wouldn't even give me the benefit of the doubt!" Nokkland protested through gritted teeth.
"Why should I when you won't even do the same for me?" Lyren replied softly, almost to herself.
"What?!" exclaimed Nokkland.
"Breakfast?" she inquired, changing the subject. "I think this would be a good spot for breakfast. It's out of the wind and minus the brambles, it'd be quite comfy."
Nokkland's mind drew a blank. It was still processing the word 'comfy' and the change in topic.
"I'll take that as a yes," Lyren said, plopping down cross-legged on the ground, her cloak beneath her.
She sighed: "See, there you go again! You complain about me sizing you up quickly and being wary which, by the way, since I'm female is mostly justified, yet you have no qualms in writing me off as insane or something of the sort. No, don't look innocent! I've seen all the side-eyed looks you've been giving me. There you go again for that matter! STOP IT. I am just as sane as you are. We are just different!"
Nokkland snorted, shaking his head and leaning against the gulley wall.
"You could say that again! You seem to enjoy this horrible weather, being buffeted by the wind and such... You are nearly skipping along this trek and I haven't seen you look at all grumpy until now!" he threw back.
"And? I don't have to explain myself to you," she spat, "and yes, you do have a knack for angering me. Just because I am enjoying this venture and you're not, judging by your incessant grumbling, doesn't give you the right to mark me as mentally unstable and treat me as such!"
"And you don't have the right to act as if I am the world's foulest-minded creature just because I am male and some of my gender are. Wary- that I understand with the world as it is. But to treat me as a complete villain without even giving me a single opportunity to prove myself otherwise is as unjust as what you accuse me of!" Nokkland retorted.
To his surprise, Lyren shrank at his words. Not literally, but she seemed to curl in on herself.
"I-I'm sorry," Nokkland offered, without really knowing what he was apologizing for or why.
"I don't need your apologies," Lyren snapped.
Something's wrong... Nokkland could feel it. He squatted down opposite her. As he did so, he noticed a tear trickle down Lyren's cheek. He moved to wipe it away but stopped short, letting his hand fall onto his thigh. Nokkland couldn't think of anything to say or do so he just stayed there, miserably watching Lyren cry softly.
"You're right... I shouldn't have treated you like that but-but," she cut herself off, choking down a sob.
"Hey, hey there," Nokkland whispered, trying to comfort her, "Remember what you said to me earlier: you don't have to explain yourself to me. It's alright. I think I understand that there is a reason behind your reaction. You only just met me... you don't have to justify, just give me a chance to be better than you think I might be next time. And I will do better next time."
Lyren nodded slowly, her braid whipping in the wind. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her tunic, she reached behind her. Her eyes went wide and she got up, looking around her in all directions. Nokkland pushed his hair out of his eyes and glanced around, trying to figure out what she was looking for.
"The pack? Do you see it?" she asked desperately.
Nokkland shook his head.
"It must have blown off! How could I have been so naïve as to not notice the wind picking up?!" Lyren berated herself.
Nokkland stood up and began hunting for the pack alongside Lyren. The thornbushes swayed and creaked while the dusting of snow along the ground swirled along in a never-ceasing rapid dance of particles scurrying to an unknown destination. Even though the wind whistled through the gulley as a precursor to a blizzard, the clouds above seemed to flow lazily across the sky, unaffected by the powerful gusts which buffeted Lyren and Nokkland... and the pack which was skidding along ahead of them.
Nokkland spotted it and made a dash for it. The largest gust of wind so far knocked him off his feet. He didn't hit his head yet it exploded in pain. Pressure strong enough to crack his skull pressed down on his forehead. At the same time, his left forearm began to burn. He cried out in pain, curling into a ball.
"Are you al-" Lyren began before breaking off into a scream.
The high trembling sound chilled Nokkland to the bone. But then, he felt something else cold wrap around him. A huge, clawed hand closed around his waist, pinning his arms. It jerked him backwards. His stomach flew into his mouth. Then, the wind was knocked out of him as he landed on the rim of the gulley.
He heard Lyren's scream stop suddenly followed by a thump next to him. Scrambling to his feet, he found himself facing an immense chest covered in brilliant white scales. Each fit into the next intricately though they blurred together before Nokkland's eyes as wave after wave of pain crashed through his head. His view titled as Lyren shoved past him, dagger in hand. Her hand trembled as she raised it to strike.
Gasping in pain, Nokkland grabbed her wrist: "Don't!" he managed.
The dragon extended a paw down and almost daintily plucked the dagger from Lyren. It then flicked it effortlessly so that it skidded several yards across the snowy plain. Shifting its position, the dragon lay down so that the top of its head was only a couple feet above Nokkland's, facing them.
It blew out a puff of ice crystals which stung Nokkland's exposed face. It took a couple of seconds for Nokkland to realize that his headache had vanished.
"There," a voice echoed in his head, "That will fix it, and your arm burning. Unless you insist on ignoring my voice again, that is..."
"Wh-hat?" Nokkland blurted.
"You do not have to reply out-loud. I can hear your thoughts, you know," the voice continued, sounding peeved and tired. "And you should probably tell your girlfriend that I will not eat her. She seems to have frozen," it sighed.
She's not my girlfriend.
"How was I to know?" the voice grumbled, "It is not like you introduced us."
Introduce Lyren to who exactly?
"Me-" the voice answered, while the dragon clearly rolled its eyes.
"Lyren?" Nokkland inquired, gently.
"Mmm?" she replied dazedly, still not budging.
"I don't know what's going on but I believe we're safe," Nokkland explained, forgoing the details since he was not very sure of them himself.
"You are very safe, trust me. I cannot harm you even if I wanted to. You die, I die," the dragon's thoughts filled in.
Why?
"The same reason you had a migraine earlier and that mark on your forearm. You are my rider whether I want you to be or not," it explained, "You picked up my scale in the remains of your village. I saw that much in your memories. There is a part of me in every scale and apparently, my magic decided that we were compatible even though a companion was the last thing I wanted after-after..."
The voice faded out of Nokkland's mind but he could clearly see the baby dragon's carcass stretched out on the ashes on his village.
Why did that happen?
"I do not want to talk about it," the dragon replied in a monotone voice in Nokkland's head, "You saw my memory last night, did you not?"
Nokkland nodded, a knot clenching in his stomach as the scene played again in his head.
"Well, then you know part of it. Piece it together or be patient and I will tell you later when I have processed it myself. We'll have plenty of time together anyways..." the dragon sighed.
We will?
"Rather. We are going to have to spend the rest of our lives together. I am not giving you a choice because the longer and further apart we are, the worse the symptoms. I get them too. Besides, the magic always chooses riders for a reason so you must train," the dragon stated blandly as if reading an instruction manual.
What about Lyren?
"That is up to her. You can try to explain if you want to, but we are leaving now. I want to get as far away from the wretched northerners as possible."
Nokkland felt the blood drain from his face. He had not known what would happen when he found the dragon- if he found the dragon. But the way the events had played out in his mind had never been even vaguely close to how they were unfolding.
"You're a dragon-rider aren't you?" Lyren asked, staring at Nokkland wide-eyed.
"How-" he began.
"I saw the scale you have been trying to hide, you seem to be having a conversation with the dragon – or at least there's a lot of silence for the number of faces you're making - why else would you track a dragon unarmed, and the fact that your arm is softly glowing is a bit of a give-away..." she listed, seeming half-dazed.
"Honestly, I'm not sure what I am," Nokkland replied. "All I know is I have to leave now and you can't come. Will you be ok?"
Lyren glared at him, snapping back to her usual self.
"Of course, I will! I can manage just fine on my own, thank you very much."
Nokkland felt the dragon's impatience as it lifted him onto its back with a claw. From that height, the wind buffeted him so strongly that he clutched desperately at the spines of bone descending in a row along the dragon's back, flattening himself as much as he could. Nokkland felt the dragon spread its wings, the leathery sinew forcing the air to bear it aloft as the dragon carried Nokkland away to who-knew-where for who-knew-what-kind of new life.