Ruthless: A Fourth Wing Fanfiction

Chapter 9

October first is always Threshing.

Any day of the week, it doesn't matter where it falls on any given year. 

On the first of October, all first year cadets enter the bowl-shaped valley to be either killed by a dragon or a fellow cadet, or be chosen and bonded by a dragon.

I will not die today. 

I just hope that the orange swordtail comes for me.

"Remember to listen here," Professor Kaori says from in front of the 147 of us here, tapping his chest. "If a dragon has already chosen, they will be calling. Trust your gut. If you feel drawn to a specific way, go that way. If you have the feeling you are going the wrong way, change directions."

I listen to the rest of his talk, about not staying in groups, and about if you are not chosen by nightfall then the professors will get you out.

What happens if the orange doesn't find me, or chooses a more worthy rider?

"All I can say is good luck," Kaori says, before leaving.

Guessing by the position of the sun, it's been hours since the dragons flew in.

I've been following a distant call from a dragon. The call has gone nonstop since they flew in, allowing me to follow.

I've already encountered a green daggertail and a red clubtail. When I saw the green, I knew it was not my dragon.

But the red. It lifted it's head at me, before snorting and walking off. 

I hope that this is the orange's call. That I haven't spent all these hours walking the woods for nothing.

I hug the tree I'm against.

I'm trying to avoid other cadets at all costs. 

I hear a screech and my head whips around.

I spot another green approaching a cadet. Is that... Rhiannon?

Rhiannon just smiles and bows her head. After a minute, her head flips up, a stunned expression on her face. She gets on the back of the dragon and shoots upwards into the sky.

I move on, following the call. It's getting louder, slowly but surely.

I gasp.

There, in a clearing filled with sun, is the orange.

My orange.

I smile, relieved, before bowing my head, not moving a muscle.

The orange's eyes swivel towards me and it brushes me with its snout.

A blast of steam comes out of it's nostrils.

Fuck, I'm toast.

"You are not toast, Rutherglennea Melgren. You are my rider."  A male voice rumbles in my head.

What the fuck. "You can hear me?"

"Of course I can. Now get on my back."

I look up the giant orange's frame, towering over me by at least 29ft. "You're a little... big."

The dragon seems to sigh, before lowering his belly to the ground. His wingtips touch the ground. 

I run up his wings like a ramp and climb onto his back.

"My name is Lasair. I descend from the mighty Arphrodilnor line. Now hold on, Dark One."

I grip Lasair's scales and press my legs against his sides.