Chapter 38 Ginger
Ginger
“Bram!” I shouted, rummaging about my kitchen searching for a pouch of dried fish strips. The little dragon loved those things.
Movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention. “Oh! There you are, wh—AH!”
I jumped, my heart skipping a beat in my chest.
It wasn’t my dragon.
It was a cat—small, black, and glaring daggers at me.
“Cat! You scared me!” I hissed between heaving breaths.
The creature swished its tail back and forth menacingly.
I took a step back. “Okay, sorry. Just a misunderstanding.”
The cat hissed at me, short and sharp.
I stepped back even further. He could have the kitchen. That was fine.
With a heavy exhale, I gathered the courage to ask, “Have you seen the little green dragon?” I held up both of my hands. “About this big?”
The cat grumbled quietly.
“Right. Sorry. I’ll find him myself.”
I looked in all his favorite hiding spots. My bed. Under the covers in my bed. Under the pillow in my bed. In the basket of dirty clothes needing to be washed.
No luck.
I tossed the side window open. “Bram!” I yelled, as loud as my voice would allow me. “I have snacks!”
That bribe always worked when the little creature wandered too far.
I waited.
I waited more.
I screamed, shouted, and bribed as much as I could bribe.
The dragon did not return.
The black cat grew increasingly agitated, swatting at me if I stepped too close and seemingly purposely walking under my feet. It was the opposite of helpful.
I choked back the urge to cry.
Surely, Bram was fine. Nothing could happen to a dragon. Dragons were tough, even if they were still babies.
And my sweet, gentle dragon was toughest of them all. I knew it.
The cat circled me angrily, grumbling.
“Get out of my way, cat! I’m trying to find Bram!” I hissed.
Blessedly, the creature listened. He even ran out behind me when I opened the door.
The suns were dull in the sky, shrouded by ominous grey clouds. I shivered.
“Bram! It’s time to come home, buddy! Where are you?” I ran through the woods surrounding my cottage, not sure what direction I was heading in but trying to cover as much ground as possible.
Where would he have gone? To find a comfy place to nap? To visit his siblings? To terrorize some townsfolk?
I ran faster. My thighs throbbed with the effort.
A streak of black crossed my path, stopping me up short.
The damned cat.
“Fates!” I hissed. “I almost crushed you! What are you doing?”
The creature hissed at me, baring sharp canines. And then he stepped purposefully toward one side. His eyes never left my face.
“What do you want, stupid cat?” I asked, irritated. I moved in the direction of town, planning to rush to Kizzi’s. Or Fiella’s, if the first stop proved useless.
The cat hissed again and took another step in that direction.
“Are you trying to tell me something? Am I losing my mind again?”
His tail swished.
“I need to find Bram.” I tried to dodge the cat, to continue on my path, but he glared at me with an intensity that a critter shouldn’t be capable of.
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
With a heavy sigh, I relented. “Fine. I’ll follow you.”
With a growl that was a little less menacing, the cat took off through the woods, hopping nimbly over sticks and branches, hardly making a sound.
I followed.
“This is crazy,” I muttered to myself. Louder, I shouted, “Bram! Where are you, Brambleby?”
The trees passed in a green and brown blur as I rushed past them. I tried to scan the forest for signs of a green dragon, but I was afraid to lose the small black cat.
For some reason I couldn’t understand, I trusted the cat to lead me where I needed to go.
I screamed until my voice broke. My calls came out tangled and snarled, cracked at the edges.
My heart rate picked up until my chest throbbed uncomfortably.
After agonizing minutes, the cat led me to the edge of the forest where the trees began to thin.
The sound of gurgling water filled my ears, almost drowned out by the thudding of my pulse. The cat came to an abrupt halt, staring up at me expectantly.
“What?” I asked. “Is he here? Bram!”
I didn’t see the little green dragon anywhere.
Thunder cracked somewhere overhead. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
The smell of petrichor and wet earth filled the air.
And then rain began to pour. Bram hated the rain.
It was slow, at first, a gentle shower. But the intensity picked up quickly, turning into a torrential downpour.
“Brambleby! Stop playing around, let’s go home!”
I stepped out of the woods, approaching the churning river. It was then that a flash of green caught my eye.
There. Out in the middle of the water.
He thrashed against the current, his head barely above water, his wings soaked and sodden.
My tiny dragon was drowning.
And I couldn’t swim.
That didn’t matter, I would save my baby no matter the cost. I didn’t even think—I simply whipped off my cloak and prepared to dive into the water.
If he was going down, I was going down with him.
I braced myself for the biting cold of rushing water.
I crouched to spring.
A band of steely shadows slipped around my waist, stopping me in my tracks.
“No!”