Page 32 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

We finished up breakfast and changed into fresh clothing.

She looked pretty in the dark linen pants and loose cream blouse I picked for her.

Untied strings hung over each breast, allowing the V of the neckline to gape widely.

Two pebbles pushed against the fabric, showing her body’s reaction to the autumn chill.

Not wanting to damage my nicer clothing, I donned denim paired with a thick brown tunic.

Now that the weather had shifted and the ground was hardened and littered with forest debris, I insisted she wear shoes.

Her flowy attire would leave her cold, but Faeryn insisted she would “ warm up once moving ”. I had my doubts.

“It’ll be winter when we get back to Virylan.

” My eyes scanned the horizon for a suitable dragon while we strode through the trees.

We passed several smaller species foraging, but would need to find something larger to carry us both comfortably.

The larger dragons avoided the coast, likely to remain hidden from passing ships.

To any sailor, this island would look completely unassuming—devoid of a potential bloodshed gold mine.

“Your favorite season. Will it be snowing?”

“If it isn’t once we return, it will start soon enough.” I couldn’t hide my pleasure at her remembering such a minute preference of mine. I stared at the top of her head in appreciation, watching her waves bounce with her strides.

“That’ll be nice.” She swayed in a loose, dance-like saunter. “I can’t remember the last time I saw snow… literally.” She laughed at her own amnesia, ever eager to find amusement in the unfortunate. “But I remember liking it.”

“It’s quite pretty.” I watched her hop a log more dramatically than required. “Everything turns white. The hints of purple and green that tint the town are washed away.” The snow clouds always neutralized the radioactive glint our stars cast onto the Western Continent.

“Do you mind the cold?”

“I’m not sure I experience it enough to be bothered by it.” I occasionally felt less warm , but I never truly felt what was described as cold . “I have a furnace burning beneath my ribs and can always start a fire.”

“That’s got to be nice.” She looked at her own pink palms. “I wish I had something unique about me like everybody else here.”

“Your fae status isn’t sufficient?” I crooked an eyebrow playfully. True to her native “ Earth ” lore, I had been her slave from the first moment I heard her say my name.

There was a rustling sound above us, causing leaves to rain down onto our heads.

I looked up to see what caused the shower as Faeryn pulled a twig from her hair.

A black dragon perched on the lowest branch of a tall purple-barked tree.

It scratched at the bark with its front claw, searching.

This dragon had two long, thick horns spiraling back on either side of its head.

Its long legs were meaty and muscular, while its front legs were nimble with clawed hands at the end.

Its tail was thick and adorned with jagged slate spikes.

“Oh!” Faeryn exclaimed. “How about that one?” Her hand shot up to point at the creature, which had turned its attention in our direction. Its head cocked curiously. “He’s perfect! Just big enough for the two of us.”

“They’re quite high,” I muttered. The dragon wasn’t even on the lowest of the already high branches.

I attempted my ancestral call to the dragon, not hopeful for a response.

Eye contact was critical to establishing the relationship between our species, and from here, I wouldn’t be distinguishable from others.

It was the difference between an acquaintance by association and a complete stranger.

By knowing I was a Pyran, they wouldn’t know me , but would know I was safe .

Looking into their eyes communicated “ we have a history ” as a basis for trust. With that lacking, it unsurprisingly stayed put, fluffing its scales to appear larger in a cautious response.

“If it doesn’t work, that’s okay. We can find another one,” she said, disappointment coloring her tone.

That absolutely wouldn’t do. If Faeryn wanted this one, I’d get this one. I let a large puff of air out of my cheeks and rolled my shoulders back—this was going to take some effort. “Give me some time.”

I began my climb up the leathery ripples of vines. The playful creature hung its head over the side of the branch, watching me fight my way to it. I could hear Faeryn reassuring me this was not that important from below, but I ignored her. I was more than capable of granting this request.

Once finally up to the lowest branch—hardly low at all—I was close enough to lock eyes with the dragon.

I repeated my command clearly, and the beast spread its massive wings.

They unfurled to the width of the tree itself, thick webbing black as tar stretching between charcoal bones. Perfectly strong for our needs.

Much to my chagrin, it kicked up to glide to the next highest branch. I was confident we had locked eyes that time, so this misbehavior was purely for amusement. I followed its climb. My third attempt at the command elicited an acknowledging roar before the beast descended at my request.

Faeryn stepped back from its height, likely not realizing the sheer size of her selection from so far below.

Only as tall as its forearm, she looked up fearlessly, the wind of its wings blowing her taupe hair over her shoulders.

It sat on its hind legs and rested one bent knuckle on the ground while its other arm curled to its body.

The dragon dipped its head just enough to confirm it was accepting a role of submission, for the time being.

Comforted by the desired behavior, I began my descent to join.

“Wow,” she breathed when I made it back to her side. She hadn’t disengaged its stare for a second. With her nose turned to the sky, she looked adorably brave.

“You certainly didn’t choose just any dragon.” I looked down at her proudly. “You selected the one with an attitude.”

I reached my hand up to rest on its scaly neck.

It was imperative not to approach a dragon’s blind spot without the physical warning.

Once my fingers grazed its shoulder blade, I motioned for Faeryn to follow.

She contently mimicked my movements. Once safely out of the way of its chin, I instructed it to lower.

Even resting on its belly, its back was too high to grip.

I used the thick skin of its elbow to push myself up.

Faeryn took my hand and climbed using a similar strategy—ever a natural with these wildlife encounters.

Once again, she was perched between my thighs.

Last time, I was able to maintain some distance, confident in her ability to lean forward and hold tight.

But that had been on the ground—there was an art to staying put during flight.

Instead of shifting back, I pressed myself to her.

The top of her head leaned softly against my throat.

The scale of her shoulders against my chest reminded me how well my embrace could swallow her.

She would be more secure folded between my extended arms during the experience.

Her arched hips pressed snugly against my pelvis, causing a stir in my groin I hoped she would be distracted from.

My mind once again pondered Pyran culture: Only the mates of dragon riders can ride their dragon.

This wasn’t my dragon, but in a different time…

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I asked, noticing she was peering at the drop to our left. “Once we’re in the air, we’re at its mercy. The dragon will land eventually, but it might not go down just because you want it to.”

“Can I say the command to make it fly?” She winsomely ignored my warning.

“It might not respond to non-Pyrans.”

“I’ll try.” Her head tilted up so I could see the tops of her cheeks round into their smile. “What’s the command?”

“It is more of a noise. A kiss, and then a ‘ jahhah ’,” I explained. “You should be firm.”

Hands wrapped around the flexible spike in front of her, she took in a courageous breath.

Her kiss sound, although lacking the base of a Pyran inferno organ, was music to my ears.

Pride warmed my chest hearing her mimic a language I held so dearly.

The beast immediately reared onto its hind legs, letting out a loud shriek.

I locked my knees into the natural grooves of the dragon’s sides, holding onto the scales of its neck evolved to be more flexible for a rider’s grasp.

“Hold on tight!”

The dragon crouched and launched itself up through the branches of the trees.

A green blur of leaves passed swiftly before we broke into the open sky.

Faeryn let out a screamed squeal, her grip on the horn failing as her weight shifted solely onto me.

I wrapped one arm tightly around her waist. As long as she let me keep her close, I would make sure she was safe. It was my reason for living.

The creature was content to level its altitude before hitting the clouds.

This was a little lower than where I had in mind, but surely there was time to enjoy both views.

No longer fighting gravity, I found her still flush against me, two hands wrapping around my forearm.

“Are you going to look down?” I rested my chin on her shoulder, my cheek brushing against her temple.

“I will,” she laughed nervously. Her nails pressed small indents into my skin, and I reflected for the hundredth time how weaponless her anatomy was.

The fact that she wasn’t more frightened by everything was impressive.

Everything else on this planet had the ability to be lethal.

The disguise of our natural features was simply a socialized response to establish trust. A “ I put my fangs away please let me rest in your cave ” echoing from years of evolution.