3. Celia
Chapter three
Celia
Celia sighed in annoyance as Darian continued rattling on when they reached the southern edge of her meadow. The dragon hatching grounds were on the northern side—and most people stopped here.
“Where is your home?” he asked, looking around.
Celia simply pointed north, and his eyes widened.
“But we aren't supposed to go near the mountains.”
“Yes, I know,” Celia said, turning to him with a smirk, as if she were an animal and he were her prey. “Why do you think I chose to be there?”
Darian simply grinned back at her, then led the way, hefting the knapsack on his shoulders.
As much as she was annoyed that he had insisted on coming with her, Celia was glad to only carry the small basket with the baby dragon.
She had piled far too much in there in her annoyance with him, and if she'd been forced to carry it all, she would have had to make several stops.
But Darian was strong—probably because he was young, far too young.
His constant babbling showed his age, since he hadn't yet learned to shut up and take in the nature around him.
If he'd been paying attention, he would have noticed the wildlife following them. They could sense the dragon she carried, she knew it. Whether because they could hear his tiny chirps or because they could smell him, she wasn’t sure, but there had been more than a few curious animals watching them as they made their way through the forest and the meadows
She always chose a different way through the beginning of the meadow, before intersecting with the path that she had made over the past two years of trekking back and forth to town.
She didn't want her path to be obvious to anyone on the edge of the woods, as it led straight home.
She had no need for strangers sniffing around, minding her business.
And yet, here she was, bringing a man who simply couldn't shut up straight toward it.
Indecision churned in her gut. Perhaps she shouldn't be bringing him. Perhaps she should insist he give her the knapsack and turn around and leave.
And yet, there was part of her that wanted him to stay, to see the dragons. Whether that was only because he was carrying a very heavy load on her behalf or there was something deeper to it, she wasn't sure.
As they began trudging through the meadow, he kept talking. Did he ever stop?
“Can I hold him?” he asked abruptly, looking toward the basket in her hand.
She'd taken the shawl off so the dragon could poke his head out and look around. While his wings seemed fine, he had shown no inclination toward flying yet, which didn’t surprise her.
Earth dragons often preferred to remain rooted to the earth unless absolutely necessary—unlike the air dragons, who chose to never stay on the ground if they could help it.
It was far easier to tend a wounded earth dragon than a wounded air dragon.
“If you wish to,” she said, looking at him curiously as she paused.
Darian shrugged. “Something about him makes me want to hold him.”
He held his arms out, and Celia offered the basket. Darian scooped up the earth dragon, cradling him in his arms like it was something he did every day.
“He's so warm,” he said, a look of awe on his face.
“You should feel a fire dragon,” Celia said, looking down at the basket she held. “They are far warmer.”
“There are fire dragons?” Darian whispered, and she looked back up to see him looking down at the baby in his arms in awe.
Celia almost forgot she was cranky with him as she took in the sight.
He was handsome, she had to admit, and there was something adorable about the way he was holding the baby dragon—something that almost unlocked a yearning in her chest. But she held the lock tighter and threw away the key.
She had no time for yearning such as this.
“He likes you,” she said as the earth dragon began that rumble in his chest that earth dragons did when they were happy. “You want to name him?” she offered, the words spilling out despite herself. Why had she offered that?
He looked surprised, glancing at her in disbelief. “You don't mind?” he asked.
She shook her head. “He seems to like you,” she said.
“You said he's an earth dragon?” Darian asked, looking at the leg that remained tucked up into his body. “Is he hurt?”
Celia nodded. “He's the reason I had to go into town for supplies,” she said. “I need to splint his leg in the open position for a little while and see if that will help him to regain mobility in it.”
“What happened to him?” Darian asked.
Celia shrugged and started walking, and Darian followed. “I don't know,” she admitted. “He seems well enough, aside from the leg, but there's something about it that isn't working quite as it should, though it doesn't seem to be causing him any pain. So I will splint it and see if that helps.”
“What are you?” Darian asked. “A healer of dragons?”
Celia shrugged. “You could say that,” she said. Healing humans was no longer something she planned to do, not when it had gone so wrong the last time. Healing dragons was easier.
“I think they are very blessed to have you,” Darian said as he ran his fingers along the side of the baby's stout neck. “How about Sod?” he asked after a moment. “Since he's an earth dragon and he's brown.”
Celia almost laughed, but she didn't want Darian to see that he could make her laugh, so she didn't. “How utterly unimaginative. Sod it is,” she said.
“What?” he asked defensively. “Want me to name him something we would name a human, like Harold or Arnold?”
Despite herself, Celia did laugh at that. “I don't think that's necessary,” she said. “Sod is fine.”
“I don't think you think it's fine,” Darian said, but his words sounded as if he was teasing her.
“It really is,” she said. After all, she had named the fire dragons Spark, Sizzle, and Flame. It wasn't as if her names were original, either.
As they walked through the golden, sun-drenched meadow and intersected with her trail, Celia could begin to make out the roof of her home. She had paid a farmer and his sons to help her build it when she'd arrived two summers ago, and it had served her well.
Sometimes she wished she were a little closer to town, but most of the time she was quite content to be here, far away from everyone else.
“Is that your home?” Darian asked when he finally noticed it.
Celia said, “No, it's the pixies who live next door to me.”
Darian grinned. “You're funny.”
Celia only glared at him.
“I think she's trying to make me laugh, don't you, Sod?” Darian asked.
Celia simply shook her head and walked faster. Darian lagged behind, which was well enough, because as Celia opened the front door, she was greeted by the sight of three fire dragons chasing each other around her kitchen.
“How did you get out?” she exclaimed.
Spark, seeing the open door, flew through it as fast as he could, while Sizzle chased after him on her feet. Celia reached down to try to grab Sizzle but missed, falling to the floor and coming face to face with Flame, who waddled over and sniffed her dark brown hair.
At least she didn’t singe it.
Celia sighed and looked toward the enclosure she’d put them in, where the charred edges of the top plank could be found on the ground.
“You burned a hole in the middle of it,” she muttered under her breath as Darian appeared in the doorway, his blue eyes wide.
Blazing fire dragons.
“Are those fire dragons?” he asked, looking between the two chasing each other and the one on the floor next to Celia.
What did he think they were, orange kittens?
“They are,” she grumbled, gathering Flame up and setting her on the bed. It was a good thing she'd made her bed this morning before she left. It was almost as if she'd known she was bringing someone home. “And those two out there are in big trouble.”
“I can help you catch them,” he offered, setting down the knapsack and putting Sod back in the basket, which Celia had discarded.
“That would be very helpful,” Celia said through gritted teeth.
Darian caught Sizzle and Spark much faster than she would have, even if she could barely admit it to herself.
“You two are in trouble,” she said with a glare.
Darian looked around the room, running his hand through his short blond hair, and Celia tried to see it through his eyes.
What did he see when he saw her home? Did he see the way she had carefully built it, built most of it herself?
Did he see the quilt she had made on her own, the stairs and the stools she had constructed herself?
Or did he see the singes, the burned areas, and the way her mattress had straw coming out of the middle of it, where Sizzle had been scrabbling to climb onto the bed and had slashed it open with her hind claw?
Well, he couldn’t see that part. She’d made the bed, and despite the mess the dragons had made, the bed was still mostly the way she’d left it.
She chewed on her bottom lip as she looked around the room, wondering what it looked like to someone else.
Probably very messy.
“I like your home,” Darian said, his voice gravelly. “You clearly have put a lot of work into it, even if you've had some help with the maintenance—or lack of it,” he said, grinning at the baby dragons tucked under his arms.
Celia glared at them. “Done by the ones that are about to go outside and stay outside,” she said, pointing at Sizzle and Spark again.
“I’m sure they didn't mean to,” Darian said, beaming at her. “Do you have more of this wire panel? I can make something that should hold them if you do,” he asked.
Celia nodded, reaching for the last piece of it that she had tucked behind the table. She ought to have put it underneath the piece of wood.
Darian reached into his pocket and pulled out a bit of wire.
“You just carry wire around with you?” Celia asked.
“I was cleaning up earlier and found it on the floor,” he said, “and I stuck it in my pocket. I suppose the Almighty knew it’d be needed to help you here.”
He sat down on the floor next to the enclosure, took the piece of panel that she held out to him, and pulled a knife out of his pocket, using it to apply leverage as he wrapped the wire around to hold the top and the bottom together.
“They won't be able to lift it up, right?” he asked.
“Not if I put stones on top of it,” Celia said with a sigh.
She watched him work for a moment, feeling conflicted at the way she was grateful to him for helping her while also annoyed that he was here in the first place.
“I’m going to go check on the chickens,” she said, stopping outside and pretending she didn't hear him chuckling under his breath.
She needed him to get out of here and never come back.
He was entirely too unpredictable for her.