Page 128 of Pets in Space 10

Hazel

"Mine," he said.

The word rumbled through the cave like distant thunder, low and rough, lapping at my skin in a way that made every nerve stand at attention.

I froze.

He had spoken.

Not growled. Not roared. Spoken.

That sound, that word, shouldn’t have been able to come from a maw like his, full of razor-sharp teeth. But it had. I was sure of it. I hadn’t just imagined it… right?

He looked at me, golden eyes wide and unblinking, as if waiting for something. As if the very act of saying that single word had taken everything he had.

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "You… you can talk?"

No answer. Just that heavy stare. His head remained low, his injured wings limp behind him, but there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Focus. Awareness. Intelligence.

The collar lay shattered on the ground between us, a twisted piece of metal sparking faintly. I glanced at it, then back at him.

"You’re free," I whispered. "I broke it. You’re free now, aren’t you?"

He didn’t reply, but I could see it. Feel it. The way he watched me had changed. Less like an animal. More like… something thinking. Processing.

My heart pounded. "You said… mine." I forced out a shaky laugh. "What does that mean? Do you mean you… I mean, me? Or… is that just a word you remember? Or are you speaking a different language and it just sounded like it?”

His nostrils flared softly. A puff of warm air brushed my skin. He shifted his weight slightly, claws scraping against the stone, but made no move to threaten me.

The tiny dragon chirped and flapped its little wings, landing on my lap once again. Completely unbothered by any of this. I would have been very surprised if he had been aware of what was going on.

I kept talking, because silence was scarier. "Listen, big guy. I appreciate that you’re not trying to eat me right now. Really. Huge improvement. But I have no idea what’s going on here. I don’t even know your name." My voice shook. "Do you have a name?"

The dragon’s mouth parted slightly. His throat worked, like forming words was difficult. Foreign.

"Ty… va…" His voice cracked. Rougher than before, strained. "Tyvaron."

I blinked. "Tyvaron," I repeated softly. "Is that you? Your name?"

He blinked once, as if reconsidering. “No.”

“Then what is it? Your kind? Your species?”

Again, he blinked. “No.”

In my head, I ran through other options. Job title. Unlikely. Honorific. Maybe. Rank. Perhaps?

“Is it what others call you?”

A slow, deliberate nod followed. Stiff, but unmistakable.

Relief surged through me, mingled with a dizzying wave of adrenaline. I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to cry, scream, or laugh hysterically.

"Okay. Then I guess I shall call you that as well, until you tell me your actual name. Tyvaron." My voice trembled. "I’m Hazel."

Another slow blink. His massive head tilted slightly. "Ha-zzzzzel," he rasped, the word strange in his mouth but clear enough to make my stomach flip.

I let out a breathless laugh. "Well. That’s a start."

The baby dragon chirped happily, as if pleased with the introductions, and rubbed its little snout against my arm. I absently stroked its tiny head, unable to take my eyes off Tyvaron.

This creature, this beast who had kidnapped me and carried me to this cave, was no longer just a monster.

He was someone.

And for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, I had just become part of whatever he was now.

Tyvaron shifted slightly as if to be more comfortable, but then hissed in pain. Steam poured from his nostrils. The collar may have been gone, but that didn’t mean he was suddenly all healed and well.

“How can I help?” I asked. “What can I do to lessen your pain?”

He cocked his head at me, as if he was confused.

“Help?” he repeated slowly, cautiously.

“Yes, help. You’re in pain. I don’t like that. Yes, you may have kidnapped me and taken me here, but you’ve not done anything else to harm me. I might be able to see past the abduction-by-dragon thing if you promise not to eat me. Sorry, I’m rambling. I do that when I’m nervous.”

I pointed at his torn wing. The blood had mostly dried but there were a few spots where it was still seeping.

“You’re injured. Is there something I can do? Would water help, maybe?”

He tilted his massive head again, blinking as if trying to process my words. His eyes narrowed, not with anger but with concentration.

"Water," he repeated, the word rough but clearer this time.

I nodded, encouraged. "Yes. Water. For cleaning." I mimed washing with my hands, hoping that might help get my meaning across.

His gaze flicked briefly to the thin stream trickling along the cave wall, then returned to me. Another slow breath escaped him, a soft rumble vibrating through his chest. It wasn’t approval exactly, but it wasn’t a refusal either.

"Alright. Water it is." I exhaled shakily and stood, forcing my knees to stop trembling. "You just… stay there. Try not to explode or die while I’m gone, okay?"

He watched me closely as I crossed the cavern. The baby dragon trailed after me like an eager toddler, chirping softly with each tiny hop.

When I reached the little pool where the water gathered, I paused, glancing around for something to carry it in. I came up empty. All I had was my hands.

Bloody hell. This was going to take a while.

I returned to Tyvaron slowly, carrying my very limited supply of water. I had cupped it directly in my hands, careful not to spill too much as I crossed the uneven stone floor.

By the time I reached him again, most of it had already leaked through my fingers. This wasn’t sustainable.

I glanced around desperately for something else, anything that could hold water better than my hands.

My gaze landed on a cluster of smooth crystal shards protruding from the wall nearby.

One of them had broken off and was lying on the ground, shaped like a shallow bowl.

It sparkled faintly under the dim light as if to say, use me.

I picked it up carefully. "Okiedokie," I muttered, "Let’s try this.

The improvised container worked surprisingly well. The smooth surface would hold the water long enough for me to gently pour it over Tyvaron’s wounds without soaking myself in the process.

I knelt beside him again, clutching the improvised crystal bowl, my hands still trembling slightly. Tyvaron’s huge eyes followed my every move, patient but alert.

"Okay, big guy," I whispered. "Let’s try this again."

I gently poured the water close to the edge of one of the largest gashes along his wing. The skin twitched beneath my touch, but he didn’t pull away. Just a deep, slow exhale warmed my face, accompanied by the faintest hum of mechanical clicks somewhere inside his chest.

"You’re doing great," I whispered, forcing a little smile as much for myself as for him.

The baby dragon waddled closer and watched me work, blinking those enormous eyes with the kind of innocent curiosity only something completely oblivious to danger could have.

I refilled the bowl and picked up some of the bioluminescent moss to use as a sponge. Tyvaron stared at the moss for a bit, as if he wasn’t sure why I’d chosen it, but didn’t complain.

I worked methodically, wiping away the crusted blood and grime, carefully avoiding the places where metal met flesh. The wounds themselves were fascinating in a morbid sort of way – his body was clearly trying to heal around the implants, but they’d been damaged too. Twisted. Burnt in some places.

Whoever did this to him hadn’t just attached these pieces to his body. They’d forced them into him. The thought made my stomach turn.

"This shouldn’t have happened to you," I whispered softly.

Tyvaron made a low sound. Not a growl. Not a purr. More like a rumble of… acknowledgment. Or maybe comfort. I wasn’t sure. But it made me keep going.

By the time I felt like I’d made some progress, my back hurt and my hands were covered in dragon blood. I sat back on my heels and let out a long breath.

"That’s the best I can do for now," I said, studying my work. The wounds were still ugly, but cleaner. Less raw. The risk of infection, at least, should be a little lower now.

Tyvaron shifted his head slightly, lowering it until his snout hovered just a few inches from my face. His eyes locked onto mine. The proximity sent a shiver through me, but I didn’t move.

His breath washed over me. Warm. Steady.

"You’re… different now," I said softly. "Since I took that collar off. You’re thinking. You’re… awake."

His head tilted.

"You feel… clearer, don’t you?" My voice shook, but I kept talking. "You can understand more. Speak more. Think more. That thing… it was controlling you."

Tyvaron blinked slowly. His jaw moved slightly, lips parting as though trying to shape words again.

I waited, heart hammering.

"Less… chains," he rasped, voice hoarse but unmistakably deliberate. "More… me."

A thrill of astonishment ran through me. "Yes!" I smiled despite myself. "Exactly. You’re you again."

His chest rumbled. A strange sound. Like an echo of a purr, though still raw and mechanical beneath.

"And you’re not going to hurt me, right?" I whispered.

Tyvaron paused. His eyes narrowed just slightly, then softened. His voice came again, rough but firmer this time.

"No. Hazzzel… mine."

The word made my breath catch. His possessive tone sent a shiver down my spine that was equal parts terrifying and… something else I wasn’t ready to analyse.

I swallowed hard and forced a nervous laugh. "Yeah, you keep saying that."

The baby dragon chirped, oblivious, happily curling around my thigh like we were all old friends sharing tea.

I didn’t know what I was anymore. A prisoner? A guest? Something in between?

But in this moment, as utterly insane as it was, I didn’t feel like prey.

I felt… safe.

For now.