Chapter Thirteen. When You’re Stuck in a Thunderstorm
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHEN YOU’RE STUCK IN A THUNDERSTORM
JAMES
Over three weeks, I learn the basics of the sanctuary.
Feeding times. Cleaning times. Exercising times.
I at least see all fourteen dragons. Do everything but actually learn how to be a vet to these creatures.
I don’t know what I was expecting. There is no easy route when dealing with dragons.
Even though I lived with these creatures my whole life, I didn’t actually touch one until I was nine.
There are precautions. Familiarity that leads to trust. That cultivated trust is how crafters bonded with dragons and developed crafting in the first place.
It’s also how one advances to be able to craft new types of metal.
Now, to treat these creatures I must garner a different type of trust. My best chance of educating myself lies in Farren.
Dr. Walsh disappears to handle clients far more often than I had thought, leaving Farren as the one to take every dragon’s vitals and implement basic checkups.
But I don’t even have Farren’s trust, let alone the grumpy Rhinoridges or old majestic copper Sprinters.
So, I sit back and watch, trying desperately not to irritate her further into hating me.
Then maybe—hard maybe—I’ll be able to learn elementary veterinary care.
I do assist Jeffrey though. He trains all the domesticated dragons on the sanctuary and feeds the wilder ones.
Shelly hangs out with us as we work, sitting in a nest of hay and blankets.
I haven’t asked, but I know illness when I see it.
I don’t think Jeffrey dotes on her just because she’s sick though.
Something about the way he leans over her and asks if she’s okay makes me think this is their typical dynamic.
It’s another day stretching Hort’s wing when a voice I’d know anywhere calls out to us. “Flirting on the job again?” Farren. My attention snaps to her waltzing up to us.
“And to think you facilitated this.” Jeffrey gestures to him and Shelly. Oh, that’s what she meant. For a second I thought …
But she hasn’t even noticed me. Otherwise she wouldn’t laugh openly when she says, “I know. Big mistake.”
When I first arrived, I wondered what Farren and Jeffrey’s relationship was, especially after I saw him twirling her on the porch in excitement.
I got jealous. Now, I know they’re like brother and sister.
And while that calms some of the storm in my chest, Farren and I are still ignoring each other.
Her because she can’t stand me. Me, because I’m still afraid if I engage, she’ll try to get me kicked out.
Or, to be more specific, try to make me break my father’s rule, which would get me booted immediately.
I’m accustomed now to Farren’s disinterest, so I can handle it, but if she flirts with me, I’ll fall.
“Been third wheeling since I was nine,” Farren continues.
“And third wheel no longer,” Shelly laughs and nods to me.
“What?” Farren startles when her gaze meets mine. Her smile disappears. “Oh, hey.”
“Hey.” Even now my heart pounds at her attention on me.
Farren lifts a medical kit in her hand. “I came to rebandage Hort.”
I grab Hort’s lead to keep him calm and still. “Go for it.”
I’m dying to ask how often she thinks his dressing needs to be redone nowadays.
Hort not only broke his primary metacarpal, but also cut open his wing.
Both wound and bone seem to be healing well.
Dragons often create a scab of silver, like a cast, when their bones break, and it needs to be crafted apart so the scales aren’t permanently damaged or scarred.
My hunch is Farren has been doing this since it looks so clean.
Hort prods me for attention as if to say stop staring, so I pat his neck as I try to figure out Farren’s redressing technique without hovering.
I’m unneeded since Hort bends to Farren’s every wish, moving his wing as she orders.
She’s not even saying anything or whistling training commands.
She just touches him. The skill of an extraordinary silver-crafter.
I should have known day one on the sanctuary.
When finished, Farren comes around to Hort’s head, standing right next to me. “Stretch it out one more day and then Hort can fly,” Farren tells Jeffrey over her shoulder. “You’re ready to fly again, aren’t you?” she says quieter to Hort, petting him.
My god, she can’t be standing this close and be sweet to my dragon.
I can only take so much. My hands go slack on Hort’s lead.
Then Farren glances at me as Hort nudges her neck and closes his eyes.
Have I ever been more envious of a dragon?
For one breath of a moment we’re staring at one another, something unspoken woven between us as my heart explodes.
“Got it boss,” Jeffrey calls, breaking whatever trance we have fallen into. Farren turns to leave and I take a lungful of air. Jeffrey swivels in her direction though. “Hey! Where you going?” he laughs. “I need a rider.”
“Murphy can be your rider.”
Jeffrey and I watch as she ambles away. “I can’t believe she’s turning down riding a silver Sprinter.” He turns to me, maybe for explanation.
The explanation is simple enough. Me. She can’t stand me. “How do you do it?” I suddenly ask Jeffrey.
“How do I do what? Mount a dragon?” Jeffrey stalls like he hasn’t dealt with this level of incompetence before.
“No…” It’s a new low point if I look like someone who doesn’t know how to climb up on his own dragon. I shove that thought aside as I swing onto Hort. “How do you make people like you?”
“People?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Or Farren?”
I wince at how quickly he’s stabbed at the core of my question. “People,” I reiterate.
Jeffrey smirks at Shelly. “What did I tell you?” he yells over.
“Very entertaining,” she agrees.
“What’s entertaining? Me?”
“Yes you.”
I haven’t been called entertaining before. I don’t think they are making fun of me though. In fact, it feels the opposite, like I’m being included for who I am as a person, not who my family is, maybe for the first time in my life.
“It doesn’t bother you Farren’s a copper?” Shelly asks, head tilted—a test.
“No,” I admit. Though she’s not a copper. Not really. I figure they know that, but just in case I keep quiet. Besides, it’s the truth. Farren’s metal class has never concerned me, even if it would concern my parents.
“Then I approve,” Shelly states.
I reach for Hort’s reins. “Approve?”
“Of your crush on her. You’ve got good taste, kid.”
Riders at the tracks have teased me about my feelings, but never has someone been so blunt. “I…” I flush. “I just want her to teach me.”
“Wait, Farren doesn’t want to teach you?” Jeffrey asks, looking over to Shelly.
She widens her eyes back at him. “Farren loves all things dragons. The trick is how to get her to stop talking.”
They both stare at me again, implication clear: It’s a huge feat that I’ve pissed off the girl who is nice and chatty to everyone. Still think I have any semblance of a chance? I want to ask. But it’s too depressing to put into words.
Hours later though, as I lay in bed, I realize that for the first time I’ve gotten someone’s approval to like Farren. I can’t seem to stop smiling into my pillow.
Two days later I’m able to ride Hort in short bursts.
For the first time, we go airborne with no agenda but stretching his wings.
And damn, the views above the Walsh Sanctuary?
Rich green cliffs descending into black stones and even blacker beaches.
Waterfalls tumbling down at so many points the entire coastline could become a curtain of water with a strong enough storm.
Unpopulated islands shaped like crescent moons smile off the coast. Woods lie to the north, looking like pillows of foliage.
Empty pastures and farmland dot the area to the south.
Even the sky, the very same sky I’ve flown in my whole life, seems to have a different color palette here. Red and golds soak or backlight the clouds. Late one afternoon I’m high enough on Hort to notice lightning crack across a heavy darkness in the far distance.
I whistle sharply and squeeze my thighs. “Let’s get back.”
Hort lands in the open field between the barn and the Walsh home.
Farren’s already there. We both reach for the saddle and her hand lands on top of mine.
The first time we’ve touched in weeks. She pulls back first and gets busy with the head harness like it’s nothing.
Because it is nothing, Murphy. Get a hold of yourself.
I lug the leather away from Hort’s back.
“I think it’s going to be bad.” As Farren says this, rain begins to fall in heavy patters. Hort turns his head to the sky and opens his mouth in unabashed delight.
“It’s like he’s part water dragon,” Farren laughs.
“He’s an odd one all right,” I agree. “Don’t let him near an unattended puddle.”
“Noted.”
I set the saddle over my shoulder. “Here. Let me get him.” I gesture toward the lead. “He’s going to want to stay in the rain.”
“Then give me the saddle.” She moves in front of me and reaches.
I pivot away. “I’ve got it.”
She gives me a contemptuous look, but the rain only grows heavier and we run to the barn.
Within those minutes we’re half-soaked. Hort bounces, trying to return outside.
The other dragons are in their stalls, a few coated in metal, a normal reaction to what sounds like the world splitting apart above us.
I pull Hort toward home, softly whistling to get his attention and crafting silver as a distraction so he’ll follow.
Right when he settles in, thunder rattles the entire building and Farren and I flinch. “My parents are both gone. Dad is stuck in town. Mom drove Jeffrey and Shelly to the hospital.”
“The hospital?” I question.
“A normal checkup.”
A normal checkup that needed three people to attend? I don’t push for answers though. What matters is, it’s just us.