Page 4 of Rago

He puffed out another message. This time, he pointed at me.

Mine.

I flailed my arms a little, while the tips of my ears grew hot. My heart drummed a jig. Puzzled by my unwillingness to challenge this sentiment and the thrill it triggered in me, I offered up no response.

That didn’t seem to satisfy Rago, who stomped his foot and with the single-mindedness of a drunk, belched out the same, if less legible, set of letters.

Mine!

“All right, all right,” I murmured in the end, abashed, yet pleased nonetheless. “Sheesh. I read it fine the first time, thanks.” Rubbing my chin, I heaved an exasperated sigh. “In a spare moment, we might have to work on your romantic routine. You sure are a forward kind of fellow, Rago.”

He rewarded me with a mischievous nod, taking that as a compliment in no uncertain terms.

All I could do was shake my head. “Right,” I said, keen to change the subject. A huge yawn I concealed behind my fingers split my sentence in half. Gods, it’d been a long, odd day. “What, err, are we going to do now?”

I meant my question in a broad, philosophical sense, as in What the fuck? But my interlocutor proved to be focused on the immediate here and now.

A new wonky note floated up in the air.

“Gleep?” I frowned in confusion. “What’s that?

The dragon’s forehead knitted below his little horns. With some impatience, he used his tail to wave away the remnants of the cloud and replaced it with:

SLEEP.

“Ah,” I said. “Why yes, that makes way more sense. But what do you… Shit!!”

My world tilted as Rago snatched me up in a bridal carry and transported me over to the stack of practice mats piled in the corner. Never letting me go for a moment, he lowered us gently onto that neat heap. Two of his exhales, one aimed at each side of the hall, extinguished the torches, which died out accompanied by little fizzing sounds. Rago proceeded to wrap his silky wings around me, blanketing me inside them like in a cocoon.

Hands fisted, I waited for the panic to set in.

I hadn’t much cared for darkness paired with confined spaces. Not since my days in captivity a few years back, when after having been apprehended by a Barbarian patrol scouting on their side of the border, I’d spent a month stuck in Ghadarra—the infamous pit they used for slaves and prisoners of war.

I should’ve felt trapped, being cooped up like this. It should’ve been discomforting. Upsetting. Intolerable.

It was none of those things.

Far from distressed, I didn’t struggle against Rago’s embrace. I welcomed the comfort he offered. His warmth seeped into my bones, banishing the chill from the night. Insane as it might’ve seemed, I relaxed, cherishing the state of being looked after, no matter how foreign it felt. Save for combat situations, I’d rarely trusted others to guard me. Yet relinquishing control to Rago came naturally and without hesitation.

Fatigue whacked me over the head; too many late shifts and not enough rest taking a toll on my body. My eyes failed to stay open. I yawned once more, shifting around to claim an even more comfortable spot within my cushy bedding.

The dragon gave an approving rumble, dragging a sleepy smile out of me.

Listening to his heart, which beat a calming, steady rhythm, I sank into oblivion.

For once, anguish and dread didn’t invade my dreams.

* * *

Icame round to a sensation of feeling warm and deliciously well-rested. This rare occurrence put me in good spirits right away.

Upon opening my eyes, the sight of vast space crowned with a high vaulted ceiling and dark beams gave me pause. I contemplated the way the crescent-shaped windows filtered the morning light in grey, symmetrical beams.

What the fuck was I doing passed out on the floor in the fencing hall?

Oh. Ooooh.

I rushed to assess my sleeping arrangements.