From now on, she is mine to watch over.

SASHA

It’s weird to wake up and realize that you’ve slept all night in a dragon’s claws. I don’t think I’ve slept a full night since the Rift itself, because there’s always something to intrude on my thoughts and keep me from relaxing into a deep sleep. Things like starvation or worry over safety. Things like Tate.

Things like dragons.

But…I slept. I don’t know what time it is, and I open my eyes, blinking at the daylight that filters into the chamber. It’s brighter than it was before, so time must have passed. I’m still resting on the dragon’s curled foot, the claws forming a cage around me. It’s warm here, and comfortable, but as I rouse to consciousness, the fear returns. I’m being held by a dragon, and I don’t know what to do.

I lie still, terrified. The dragon isn’t moving, but from the angle I’m at, I can’t see his face to know whether or not he’s asleep. Baby steps, I decide. I test the different parts of my body quietly, flexing muscles to determine how things feel. My hip feels like a big raw wound—no surprise there. My arm hurts, but it’s gone back to the low, dull throb of the broken bones instead of sharp pain. My ribs and face ache, but they’re better than yesterday. My neck is stiff, I have to pee, and my stomach is empty.

So pretty much it’s a normal day for me, except the dragon.

I wonder if he’s awake. I shift slightly in his grip, moving to the edge of the foot that holds me. He doesn’t move, and so I scoot a little farther to the edge, then land on my feet on the floor and glance back to see the dragon’s reaction.

He doesn’t move, his head tucked against his other paw. As I watch, one large, gleaming eye opens and regards me, the pupil a dark, smoky gold instead of the black it flickered yesterday.

The dragon knows I’m awake. He just watches me. Okay then.

“Hi,” I say softly. “I’m just stretching my legs.”

When the dragon makes no move, I get up and stretch, trying to make my motions as unassuming as possible. As I do, I scan the area. The edge of panic is starting to disappear. It’s clear the dragon doesn’t want to eat me. I don’t know what he wants, but it’s not my death, so I can focus on other things now. I decide it’s time to check out my surroundings.

It’s immediately clear to me that we’re up high. There are holes in the ceiling of the cavernous room, letting sunlight in, and the view of the sky through those holes is uninterrupted. Off to one side, there’s an enormous gap in one wall, where plastic sheeting flutters, and I can see nothing but open sky up ahead. An unfinished building, maybe? I look around, but there doesn’t seem to be furniture of any kind, just empty concrete floors and a few shattered walls. The room is big, bare, and full of dust.

There’s no place to sit, and it doesn’t look like there’s a toilet of any kind, so I rub my bad arm absently and begin to walk around. My hip burns with each step, but I ignore it. There has to be a way down other than just the hole in the side of the building. It’s clearly how the dragon got up here, but surely…

Surely I’m not trapped.

I move to the far side of the big, empty room and stifle a scream when the dragon rises to his feet, stretching, and yawns with an impressive show of teeth. He moves like a cat, all sinew and grace, and if I wasn’t so terrified of him, I’d be fascinated by that. As it is, I freeze in place and hug my arms close to my chest, waiting to see what he’s going to do.

The dragon moves to the edge of the ledge and lumbers there, tail flicking back and forth. He moves until he’s blocking the ledge from me and there’s no way for me to get to it.

Obvious dragon is obvious.

I get the message, though. I’m not to go out. It’s not like I can get very far anyhow—there’s no way I can climb the side of the building and get down myself. From what I can see, it looks like we’re pretty high up. I’m stuck here, unless I find a stairwell or a working elevator. I turn around and pace the rest of the room, and the dragon follows me as I do. The unease returns to my stomach, and it grows when, despite my survey of the room, I don’t find a stairwell. I do find a couple of spots where rocks have crumbled and the floor and wall are destroyed, and I suspect that maybe that was the way down.

Either way, I’m stuck here until the dragon decides to fly me down.

More distressing than that, there’s no bathroom that I can see. There’s no water, no toilets, no nothing. This building must not have been finished—even the ceiling is little more than bare beams in places. This is about the worst place to be held captive, and my throat’s starting to hurt and feel scratchy. My stomach growls, but I ignore it—I’m always hungry in the After.

I turn to the dragon and decide it’s time to try to communicate again. “Can you understand me?” I keep my voice low and smooth, because I don’t want to alarm him. When that elicits no response, I bite my lip. How the heck did Claudia communicate with her dragon? “I don’t mean to be a bother, but I need something to drink. Or a bathroom.”

The dragon just stares at me, watching me like a cat with a mouse.

I pantomime drinking as best I can with my good arm. “Drink? Water? Please?” When the dragon only stares at me, I bite back my sigh of frustration. I’m not getting anywhere, and I don’t know what to do. I glance around, looking for a different way to communicate, and see a piece of rock near my foot. I pick it up and begin to write on the concrete floor, the rock scraping against the cement to make poor lettering, but at least it’s lettering.

W A T E R.

I write it out and then point to it. “Can you read?”

He watches me, tilting his head ever so slightly, like a cat when it’s trying to understand something. I don’t think he’s stupid. I think I’m just not getting across to him. Again, I make a gesture for drinking water.

It’s no use, though. I might as well be asking a horse to bring me a Happy Meal. I press a hand to my forehead, exhausted. “Never mind. I guess taking care of your captive isn’t high on the to-do list.” I let the rock tumble from my fingers and retreat back to my corner, sagging against the wall.

3

DAKH