Twenty Three
Alara
“Come,” Rohan says, gently scooping me up into his arms.
We leave the tent, the morning light shining down on us. It’s been two days since I came back to camp, and I’ve slept for most of it. Letting my body heal while nightmares plague me and Rohan settled me back to sleep.
The salve and the frequent bandage changes on my burn has helped, but I’m still left with a painful ache.
One thing I’ve been avoiding is my hair. Rohan can wash it, but every time he tries to bring it up I roll over or shake my head at him. He respects it and doesn’t push, but I know I can’t avoid it forever.
But it’s my hair… and a lot of it is gone.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“To see the dragons. Calian let them out this morning,” Rohan says, and all thoughts of my hair vanish at the mention of them.
My heart skips a beat as I look up at him. “Out?”
“Yeah, they can be let out for a certain amount of time before they have to go back in their cages.”
I frown, curling into him and hiding in his neck as we pass the clan, my uneven hair falling in my face. I don’t want them to see my hair right now either.
Rohan knocks on the door and the guard opens the gate for him.
The dragons roar, and I sigh softly, finally lifting my head to see three flying above, chuffing down at us.
I watch them, glaring at the curved metal above that traps them in here as Rohan walks down the hill and past the now empty cages. We don’t stop until we reach the very back.
Rohan gently sets me down, hands on my hips to steady me as a high-pitched, trilling comes from the side, and then Escor is there, purring loudly and running over to me at full speed.
“Escor!” Rohan barks when he doesn’t seem to slow. “Stop—”
A thunderous growl sounds, and then Drogonah is there, colliding with the smaller dragon and they roll, snarling and growling at each other on the ground. I gasp, my heart hammering in my chest as Drogonah easily gets Escor on his back, a clawed foot at his neck.
“Rohan—”
“He was going to knock you over in his excitement,” Rohan says, watching them closely. “Drogonah isn’t hurting him, he’s calming him.”
The dragons snarl at each other, the others coming forward to see what’s happening when Escor looks at me, whimpering.
“It’s okay,” I tell them, and Drogonah eyes me before looking at Rohan, who gives him a nod. Slowly, he lets Escor up with a warning growl.
Escor’s on his feet instantly, running over to me.
“Slow,” Rohan demands, and Escor skids to a stop, head low, purring deeper.
I walk over to him slowly and put my hand out, and then he’s there, whining into my palm as his head connects with it above the muzzle on his face.
“Hi,” I whisper, eyes stinging at the sight of the muzzle, the metal digging in so much that he’s bleeding.
Escor curls around me under the watchful eye of Drogonah as he comes forward with the others, Rohan going to him and stroking a hand down his leg.
“Did you stretch out?” Rohan asks him.
Drogonah rumbles, flapping his wings a little, sending dirt everywhere.
“Go and stretch,” Rohan commands, and Droganah eyes Escor. “You’re not even hiding that you care anymore,” Rohan muses, and Drogonah huffs, head lifting high before launching into the air, Rohan tipping his head back to watch.
I smile, stroking behind Escor’s ear and his back leg lifts, trying to scratch at it.
I giggle, and sense Rohan’s eyes on me as I hum to Escor, his head coming down over my shoulder, his purr vibrates through my chest.
Rohan talks to the others as they come over to greet us, nudging me. I pet them all, humming to them while Rohan talks quietly to them.
“I missed you all,” I tell them. They reply with purrs and I feel that they missed me too.
I look up, my eyes catching Rohan’s and he watches intently, arms folded. He shakes his head.
“Puppies,” he sighs, and then he looks up, his eyes lighting up a little.
A shadow falls over us, there’s a growl, and then, Rohan’s gone.
I gasp, spotting him within Drogonah’s claws. Drogonah flies higher before flinging him up in the air.
“Gods,” I say, heart in my throat as we all watch as Rohan free-falls back down, arms out wide. But I shouldn’t have worried, this is what he did with us when we went to The Glade.
But this time, for a moment, Drogonah and Rohan are vertical together, side by side, looking at each other. Rohan’s arms are at his sides, mirroring Drogonah’s wings.
I know the large dragon is a grumpy one, but I can see their bond clearly. The trust they have from one another shines in this moment as they free fall together.
Rohan lifts a hand on his descent, stroking Drogonah’s face and then Drogonah snaps his wings in a powerful stroke and flies below Rohan.
He lines up for Rohan to land effortlessly on his back.
The other dragons around me watch, and then they take flight.
They go to them, growling and purring, following them as they spin and twirl in the air.
“Go to them,” I say to Escor, who is still sitting at my side. He purrs, not wanting to leave me, wrapping his tail around me. “Okay,” I say, leaning into him to watch Hakkon fly over them, Rohan lifting a hand to stroke his tail as he passes overhead.
I’ve never seen anything so magnificent.
Rohan truly is who he’s meant to be up there with his dragons.
And it’s… beautiful.
“He was born for this, wasn’t he?” I ask Escor.
Despite how he came to be, being Dragorie runs in his blood. This is what he breathes, this is his purpose.
To be with them.
To be free with them.
Something comes over me then. It starts with a slow warmth, and then it curls around me, settling beneath my ribcage and wrapping around my heart as he flies by with Drogonah, grinning down at me. The other dragons in tow, the wind blowing my uneven hair.
I want him to have this, I want all of them to have this.
I look back at the other dragons in their cages.
“We will get you all out of here, Escor,” I say, and he tilts his head at me, his tail tapping up and down. “There is no other alternative for Rohan, or for me.”
I lift a hand and place it to his chest, closing my eyes. He purrs softly, my hum joining him without thought. His scales are warm, as they always are and I drag that heat into me, wrapping me up like a blanket. I smile, opening my eyes to watch his black ones staring at me intently.
I feel his happiness in this moment, and I mirror it, even just for a little while.
“It’s ours to take, even for now.”
The dragons come down a little while later, Rohan running on Drogonah’s back, down his tail before jumping off and landing with a roll.
My mouth is still open as he comes over, all brawn and power. He gently nudges my mouth shut with his knuckles, chuckling.
“How do you not break your legs?”
“You have to follow the impact, bend your knees and roll. Also,” he says, looking at Drogonah as he lands. “We’ve done it enough times now.”
I smile at that, and his eyes dip to it, nostrils flaring.
“Ready to go?” he asks. “They have to go back in soon.”
I look at the dragons sadly.
He strokes Solia as Doren stays close to his sister, and Drogonah walks toward his cage.
“Okay,” I say, rubbing at Escor’s chest before he’s gently scooping me up in his arms.
“Rest up,” he tells them, and we head back up the hill, my eyes lingering on an already sleeping Alter. “Let’s get you back.” Rohan murmurs to me, and before I know it, we’re walking back through the camp and straight into his tent.
He doesn’t stop when anyone comes to us, just nodding while I once again hide in his neck. I feel silly, but I’m not ready to face them yet.
“They care,” Rohan says, and something tightens my throat at that, unable to reply.
Rohan sets me down at the low table carefully, food already waiting for us.
I take the bowl in hand and sip the broth, humming as it slides down my throat.
Rohan sits down next to me, clearing his throat and I eye him, noticing how tense he seems.
We eat in silence, and when I’m done, he runs a hand through my hair, causing me to still.
“Do you want me to cut it evenly?” he asks quietly, and I look at him sharply, tears instantly filling my eyes. His jaw ticks. “It’s okay.”
But it’s not.
He touched my hair.
He cut my hair.
He took my hair.
I didn’t think he could take anything more from me and he did.
He… I can’t breathe.
Rohan grabs my hand and places it on his chest. “Breathe for me Little Whisperer. I’m here. Let it out, but you have to breathe.”
I try to copy him, tears rolling down my face but Rohan continues, and I stare into his eyes, holding onto them with everything I have until eventually, my breathing returns to normal once more.
“He… he took my hair.” His eyes soften, and slowly, as if to wait to see if I’ll pull back, he takes a few strands.
“It’s still there, Little Whisperer,” he murmurs gently. “A little torn, a little lost on which direction to go, in need of some help.” He wipes a tear. “Let me help you.”
I stare into his dark eyes, holding me hostage for a moment and then I nod.
He stands, going over to the table and then he’s back, sitting behind me, legs on either side of me.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks, a comb running through my hair softly.
I flinch at first, but I slowly relax.
“For it to not be ugly.”
He stills a moment before he continues. “You aren’t ugly, Alara, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes upon.”
I sniffle, looking down and picking at my fingers.
“My hair is ugly then.”
He scoffs, and I feel gentle tugs of my hair as he combs it, then something cuts through it that has me holding my breath.
“Your hair is the first thing I saw in The Pit,” he tells me.
“Really?”
“Really,” he says. “It guided me to you as the torch flickered in my hand, and it was like I saw a fire. Burning brightly, and I was unable to go anywhere but toward it. You know that hair means more to the Dragorie, and it means much more to you, too. Allow yourself to be upset about what happened. Allow yourself to be angry about it.”
Another tear falls. “He was so cruel when he started on it,” I whisper, remembering how he grabbed and pulled it, sawed through it with a knife.
Rohan growls, his anger rising, but he blows out a breath to calm himself.
“I couldn’t do anything to stop him,” I begin, swallowing roughly at the memories. “I watched pieces of my hair fall like they were pieces of me, and I don’t know how to get them back,” I croak, my eyes closing as the memory of Emerish’s cruel laughter echoes in my ears.
We’re quiet for a long time, Rohan working on my hair, the gentle tugs keeping me here with him in the tent and not back in the room. He stops sometimes to stroke over my hair like it’s the most important thing to him and I relax further, staring into the fire.
It isn’t long before he’s combing through it fully and he gently urges me to turn around, being mindful of my side.
He wipes the tears from my face, and he smiles softly at me, bringing my hair forward.
I look down as he plays with the ends.
It’s just above my shoulders now. Even, neat.
I lift a hand and run it through the shorter strands, blowing out a small breath.
“Hair is a natural thing,” he murmurs, twirling it around his finger. “On its own, it’s fragile, but together.” He braids a little of my hair, tugging gently. “It’s stronger.”
I touch the braid, my fingers running over his in the process.
“Lean on me,” he says, causing me to lift my head.
“Lean on the clan.” He lifts the braid. “Stronger together. It isn’t a weakness to have help, Alara, and you have it now.
Use me, use us. And when your hair grows back.
” He strokes my cheek. “It will grow back even more beautiful than it was before.”
“How can you be so sure?” I wonder.
“Because someone once told me sometimes things need to burn to start anew.”
A flutter begins in my chest.
“My hair didn’t burn.”
“But it looks like fire all the same, my Little Whisperer.”
He brings the knife up in his other hand and then it’s in his hair, pulling a braid away from it and cutting through it.
“Rohan,” I gasp, looking at the braid in his hand. It isn’t one of mine that I did, but one he’s done. A long one, neat and precise.
He takes my wrist and wraps it around, tying it, just like I did with mine that now lives on his axe’s handle.
“It will grow back, and when it does, you will braid it again.”
I look up at him, and seeing the sincerity on his face, I can’t help but let his words soothe me.
Looking down at my hair he cut and put in a tidy pile next to him, I pick it up, stroking over the broken strands.
“What do you want to do with them?” he asks softly. Giving me the choice, always thinking of me, taking care of me.
I get to my feet, Rohan helping me and I walk over to the fire.
I stare into the flames, feeling the heat of him at my back. A pillar of strength. Always.
I lift my hand and hover over it, but it shakes, unable to let go.
Rohan’s hand covers it, squeezing softly.
“Hair holds memories. Some good, some bad.”
The hair in my hand suddenly feels heavy, an invisible weight.
“I don’t want to hold onto the memory of what he did.”
“You don’t have to always let go so soon, but sometimes, we need to,” he says to me, but then I look down at his hair on my wrist. Finding strength.
“Sometimes some things need to burn to start anew,” I whisper, and then I open my palm, watching the flames eat the strands.
Something happens to me in that moment.
It’s not a physical thing, not visible to the naked eye, and I’m not suddenly a new person, but I feel like a stone was added to my foundation, adding something that makes it more stable. Stronger.
And as the flames are all that’s left, I wait until they dim down to embers with Rohan at my back, reminding myself that I can’t change anything that’s happened to me.
But I can change how I react to it.
Even if it’s just a little bit at a time.