Chapter 16 #2
Last night certainly doesn't help. I can still remember waking up beside him beneath the shelter roof. The warmth of him. The feeling of being safe for the first time in days. The intense climax. Every time I start thinking about it, my stomach does a weird little flip.
The grove turns out to be larger than it first appeared.
Several trees have grown together over the years, their branches intertwining high overhead until they form a loose green canopy.
Sunlight filters through the leaves in shifting shafts of gold.
Large flowers hang from the upper branches, turning lazily whenever a breeze finds its way through the grove.
I stroll forward without any real destination in mind. For once there isn't an immediate problem demanding attention. No tribesmen. No river monster. No collapsing island. The absence of danger feels almost unfamiliar.
Then I stop and tilt my head upward. One of the trees spreads its branches low and wide, almost like a staircase. Above it, several neighboring crowns overlap, creating a tangled network of limbs stretching through the grove.
"Oh, I just had a great idea."
Behind me, Vyrathion immediately becomes suspicious. "Whenever you say that, my day worsens."
I point upward. "It's practically begging to be climbed."
His gaze follows mine. The expression that crosses his face suggests I've proposed something distasteful.
"It’s a tree," he says.
"I agree," I tell him. “Clearly a tree. Look how it branches out! And look, it has bark!”
He kicks at a root. "It grows from the ground."
I nod. "That is actually also pretty common for trees. I’m astonished you didn’t know."
"It’s showing every sign of belonging on the ground. What you feel is begging you to climb it is only its nature. If asked, it would likely say that it would give a lot to not have you climb it."
I laugh despite myself. "You're making that up."
He ignores me. "Now, you have already survived floods, monsters, starvation, tribal warfare and your own decision making. Why are you determined to add falling out of trees to that list?"
I walk toward the trunk and place a hand against the bark. It feels rough beneath my fingers, still damp from the storm. “I’ll have you know I make incredibly good decisions. They just don’t look like it.”
The bark provides easy handholds and irregular holes for my feet. A moment later I'm pulling myself onto the lowest branch. The movement feels surprisingly good.
For days every physical effort has been about survival. Running. Hiding. Fighting. Clinging to things while rivers attempt to murder me. Climbing a tree serves no purpose whatsoever, and somehow that's exactly what makes it enjoyable.
I work my way upward until I reach a broad branch fifteen feet above the ground. From there the entire island looks different. The river glitters through gaps in the foliage. Sunlight flashes across the water. Beyond the banks, the jungle is a dark mass of green and red.
"See?" I call down. "Worth it."
Vyrathion remains below with his arms folded. "You appear to have gained some elevation."
I make myself comfortable. "The appearance is correct."
"And yet you have accomplished nothing."
"Again, I feel that I must agree."
He looks up. "Then why are you smiling like a madwoman?"
The question catches me off guard. Because I am smiling.
I hadn't even noticed. I settle against the trunk and think about it for a moment before answering.
"I don't know. It just feels nice. So I have actually accomplished something after all. Now I will try to accomplish the impossible: to make Vyrathion the Wild smile, too.”
“Oh, I’m smiling already,” he states, despite clearly frowning. “There’s a great grin on my face, believe me. So there’s no need to try that which I suspect you’re going to.”
I peer down at him. “Vyrathion.”
“No.”
“Come up here."
He looks away. "You heard my response."
"It's fun! Look!" I dangle my legs.
"I have never heard that word used to introduce a worthwhile activity. Perhaps you are looking for a dragon called ‘the Fun’."
I tilt my head to the side. "Scared of heights?"
"Yes,” he deadpans. "I fear heights. Because my normal state is not soaring over the worlds, carried by mighty wings, drifting on the winds, surveying all below me and knowing I am above it all.”
It’s the first time I hear him being sarcastic. "Oh, come on. It’s not like flying, I know. But it’s a change. And if you come up here, maybe I’ll show you something."
“You can show it to me now, while I’m down here.”
I dangle my legs more and push my boobs together, so he sees the cleavage. “Oh no. It’s the kind of thing that can only be shown in a tree. That’s one of the rules.”
“Now you’re making up random rules.” For several moments he simply stares at the trunk. Then he stares at me. Then he looks back at the trunk.
"This proves nothing," he announces as he strides forward. “I’m simply inspecting the tree for gold.”
"Of course,” I say gravely. “I expect nothing else."
At first his climbing is oddly awkward. Not because he's weak. The opposite, if anything. He keeps treating every branch as though it owes him money. Leaves shake. Bark cracks. One unfortunate limb snaps entirely beneath his grip.
Then he starts adapting. Within moments he discovers the rhythm of it. And then he starts moving upward alarmingly fast, using the claws on his fingers.
"Hey," I begin as he climbs past me. “I’m right here.”
"And now I am here,” he says as he goes on climbing. The tree shakes with his moves.
"Having claws is cheating,” I tell him, craning my neck to look up at him.
He climbs on. "Dragons never cheat because no rules apply to us. We are above. Always above.” Unfortunately, that's difficult to argue with right now.
By the time he settles onto the branch thirty feet above me, he looks entirely pleased with himself. “Oh no! I’m so afraid of heights,” he says mockingly. “How will I ever survive being a whole twenty paces above the mud?”