13. Ava #3
Ava gave another helpless shake of her head. “But that’s not how elvish magic works. We don’t conjure weapons.”
That thing in her head had put an actual blade into her hands.
“Well, whatever happened, it would have been a glorious thing if I wasn’t the one being skewered.” He paused for a moment. “Jerrid says it hurt like the blazes, thank you very much.”
Ava could hear him saying it too, in that gruff but wry tone of voice she had already come to expect from him. “I’m sorry.”
It was all she could think to say.
As Brynja’s footsteps began to echo through the shadows, Dragon nudged her thigh with his snout. “It wasn’t me you were attacking, Meat Pasty…was it?”
“Flames, no. I thought I was attacking a monster. It was choking me and holding me down. I couldn’t breathe, and for some reason, it popped into my head that I wished I had a dagger, and then…then I guess I did.”
Dragon leaned away from her to make room for Brynja. “You can blame Jerrid for some of that. He was holding you down. You were yelling good enough to bring down the mountains. Such a loud voice you have for a tiny meat pasty.”
Her lips curled down. She wished he would stop referring to her as a pie. Not only was it far from flattering, but she hated how he always reminded her that he thought of her as food.
It was disconcerting to say the least.
Brynja handed her all the supplies she would need, as well as a bowl of cold water. Ava tossed aside the rag, rinsed her hands well, and then threaded the needle with the thick thread the girl had provided.
Dragon said nothing as she worked, although an occasional wince, growl, or hiss of pain told her that her efforts pained him.
She tucked her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she worked, her fingers deft with the needle through Dragon’s tough hide.
She understood now why Echo looked the way she did.
It was not easy to stitch up dragon skin.
If she’d known it would be this hard, she would have insisted that he transform back into his human form before attempting this. But if Brynja could manage it with her limited experience…Ava knew she could as well.
When she finished, she sat back to admire her handiwork.
“Nice embroidery,” Brynja said gruffly.
Ava suppressed a smile. “Your work was good, too.”
If the girl appreciated the offer of congratulations and recognition, she showed no sign of it. She merely watched Ava as she washed her hands again in the now pink water.
Dragon heaved a long, exasperated sigh. “Will I have a nice scar?”
Ava couldn’t help but smile. “You won’t, I’m afraid. Your scales will hide most of it, although you do have a few broken ones. But Jerrid will definitely have a nice scar.”
“That’s not fair,” Dragon whined. “I should have asked the cranky one to do it instead. Her stitches leave wonderful scars. Echo is going to look glorious.”
Brynja rose to her feet and hopped over his neck, rather spryly. “Thank you. I worked so hard on that. Do you hear that, old girl? He thinks you look glorious.”
Echo chuffed and rolled her eyes, an annoyed glint in her irises.
Dragon shifted his head away from the other beast, as if wary of her. At least he had a little common sense, although he seldom seemed to use it.
Ava gathered up the last of the supplies, rose, and stepped over Dragon’s neck with much less grace than Brynja.
The human girl took away her armload and disappeared again, leaving Ava to look down helplessly at her clothes.
She doubted they could be salvaged. Dried mud and damp blood covered her from the waist down.
“You are looking tasty, Meat Pasty,” Dragon rumbled, also looking at her garment.
Ava frowned at him. “I wish you wouldn’t refer to me as food. I’m not food.”
“You are to me.”
“It’s rude.” She shook out her filthy skirt and stepped away, deliberately showing him her back.
If he were going to eat her, he would have done it by now. She was sure.
A tingle ran down her spine, and goose bumps erupted over her skin.
At least she hoped she was sure.
Someone cried out in a nearby tent. Ava froze, turning toward the sound. The tent flap drifted gently in an invisible wind, and the rest of the camp seemed deathly quiet, as if everybody and everything held their breath, waiting…
Another piercing scream split the night.
Ava jumped and staggered backward as Dragon snarled a warning behind her. He was at her side in a moment, head pressing against the palm of her hand. His scales heated her fingers and sent warmth up her shivering arm.
“What is it?” Dragon rumbled, his sinewy neck brushing along her side as he forced his way closer to the tent, nostrils flaring as he sniffed. “I smell nothing.”
Ava shuddered. “I-I don’t know.”
Behind them, another shriek ripped out of a tent. And then a third from the north. And a fourth two tents down.
All around them, as if a fuse had been lit on a long line of explosives, the camp exploded into screams of terror.
Ava whirled, searching the night, while the shrieks scraped over her skin. What was happening?