Even that, I’m wondering about.
It’s clear he’s attracted to me—thanks to the fact that he has no pants—but he stops every time I say no. That makes him better than, oh, most of the men in Fort Dallas. I slowly uncurl from my protective crouch and eye the dragon that hovers nearby, waiting. He watches me like a hawk, but his eyes are gold-on-gold. That’s a good sign.
He leans in and noses the animal leg toward me.
Definitely wants to feed me.
Why me, though? Why me out of all the humans that have been killed by dragons after all this time? What makes me special? What’s so different that he’s not immediately killing me but wants to feed me instead?
I’m hungry, too. Really hungry. Before my arrest, we’d been out of money and out of food. I’d sold what I could to buy food for Amy, but in the end, I’d only been able to buy a few stale protein bars from a trader in exchange for the last of the fuel for our small lantern. I’d given them to Amy and scavenged a few meals of my own by doing odd jobs for Fort Dallas’s only bar. I’d had offers from Blowjob Becky to join her group of whores, since that’s the only place a girl can get steady employment. I’d declined at the time, but after a few days of hunger, it was starting to look like an option.
Then, of course, I’d gotten arrested.
In all reality, jail wasn’t so bad. They fed me more often than I fed myself—once a day. If I hadn’t been so worried about Amy, I’d have probably enjoyed those bowls of oatmeal more. Thinking about them now makes me hungry.
I’m always hungry.
He nudges the goat leg in front of me again, and I decide we need to chat before I go ‘raw’ and try to eat this bloody thing. “Kael,” I say softly. “Can we talk?”
The dragon’s ears prick, and his enormous head zooms in so close that I gasp and fall backward, startled. He only waits, though, big golden pupils alert.
I point at the goat leg. “I’ll eat that, but not raw.”
He studies me, then studies the goat leg. Then he looks back to me, waiting.
All right, we’re getting nowhere fast. “I wish you’d change back,” I mutter to myself. For some reason, it feels easier to have a conversation with him when his eyeball’s not the size of a tire and staring right into my face. “This thing’s raw, and it’s got goat hide on it. I need it cooked.”
No response. The great eyes blink, waiting.
Okay. This isn’t working. I chew on my lip, thinking, then try another tactic. I glance over at the dragon to make sure he’s not going to spring on me and then reach for the goat leg and tug it toward me.
He doesn’t move. All he does is watch me, gaze intent.
All right, then. I examine the goat leg as I pull it toward me. There’s a tattered piece of skin—hide—hanging off where he ripped it from the goat’s body. I swallow hard. I’m not a total priss. I’ve seen—and eaten—kills from the Scavenge Lands. I’ve watched people dress them. I’ve caught squirrels and taken them in to sell to the stew-makers, because eating it myself means throwing away money. I’ve watched them skin the things and prep them for meals. I’ve just…never had to skin my own meat. Never had the opportunity.
I guess now is one great big opportunity. Or something. All right. I wipe my hands and glance around, looking for something to use as a knife. There are shards of broken glass not too far away, and I move to go grab one.
The dragon’s immediately there at my side, pushing in front of the doors to the stairwell. Black flares in his gaze.
“Calm down, big guy,” I tell him, and dare to pat his nose. “I’m just getting some carving materials, okay? I learned my lesson. I’m not going anywhere.”
At the sound of my soothing voice, the eyes flare gold again and he rubs against my hand, as if wanting me to touch him more. Yeah, we’re not that close yet. I give him another perfunctory pat, and then with slow, exaggerated motions, pick up a hand-sized piece of glass. I glance over at him to see if he’s going to react to the fact that I’ve picked up a weapon, but Kael seems calm. I consider the makeshift blade in my hand. It’s extremely sharp on one edge, and I’m standing very close to Kael, his head down. I could stab one of those tire-sized eyeballs and…
And then what? Run away after wounding him? Run where? The stairwell is completely busted. Like it or not, this dragon’s my only way off the building. I guess it’s a good thing he wants to be friends.
He nudges the leg toward me again and then noses me.
It’s like he truly just wants to take care of me. Okay, this is officially weird. They’d told me to tame the dragon, and I’d thought it was the craziest thing I’d ever heard of. Except now…I’m not so sure. Kael’s not acting like the other dragons. Do dragons like humans, one on one? Is that the key? If we get close enough to one of the big, murdering brutes and get one alone, we can become buddies?
Maybe this isn’t such a crackpot plan, after all. Maybe it’s not certain death. I’m a big fan of uncertain death versus certain.
Using the blade of glass, I skin the goat leg as best I can. It’s gross, bloody work, and I don’t have anything to wipe my hands on. I’m naked, and the dress they left me with? It’s around here somewhere, but I’m too dirty to put it on. I sure don’t want to get goat blood on it, so I just wipe my hands on the hide as I go and hope I’m not spreading too many germs.
Eventually, it’s mostly skinned and almost looks like regular meat. Almost. I straighten and admire my handiwork. Not too bad. Now if I can just convince him to cook it, it might not be a half-bad meal.
I glance up at Kael. “I don’t suppose you’re one of those fire-breathing dragons, are you? Or are those just the red ones?”
He watches me intently and then noses my hair.
I push his head away. “Not right now. I’m trying to concentrate.” I glance back at him. “I don’t suppose I could tell you to change back so we can chat?”
Nothing. Figures.
I pat the raw goat leg. “Cook this please.” When that gets me nowhere, I go for charades. I gesture at my nose, then pantomime flames (or, okay, a really great sneeze) shooting out onto the goat leg. Then I point at him. “You cook it with fire. Please.”
The great head tilts, and then he whuffs out a small gush of flame from his nostrils. It’s so close to my head that I yelp and scurry backward, patting at my hair.