The Hatchling

Bellicose

My body hurt from yesterday's work, and my mouth was now in so much pain it took most of my energy just to work on the new maw pad I had. Everything hurt. Every muscles creaked and ached like old wooden boards. I felt like my limbs were going to fall off at any point.

But Malachai's words kept ringing in my head in an endless loop of insult. I had to prove him wrong. I would prove him wrong. I had more going for me than fire, and I knew I could make myself into something great. I may not have had the inborn skill of Beck, but I would craft myself into something skilled.

I would be tempered like a sword to where I was unbreakable, but first I had to run three miles without seeing the light and my life flash before my eyes. This was the hardest exercise I'd ever done purely because it was so foreign.

But in those split seconds where all my limbs were off the ground, that flying feeling returned and it encouraged me to go onwards.

Breaking through the second maw pad sent a jolt of excitement through me. I looked above to get an idea of what time it was, and it had to be a bit past afternoon. I wondered how Beck was doing.

Soaring back to the entrance to the field, I saw other groups of dragons practicing with one another.

Ferren was standing on the ground, human, and he was watching one squad in particular. I followed his eyes and saw four dragons trying to replicate fighting moves on one another.

Among them was a large cobalt male who already looked mature enough to be a soldier himself, and that could only lead me to assume that was his son, Jericho.

My opponent looked like a full grown adult dragon.

In fact, Jericho looked like a carbon copy of his father, who was not a weak looking man by any means. Jericho had this confident look about him, like he was born thinking he was unstoppable. By the looks of him, it seemed about that way.

His horns were thick at their base and tapered into deadly spear tips. When he opened his mouth, I could see how long his fangs were. His fire wasn't blue, but the way he used it made me worry. He could make it shoot forward like a jet or fan out like a shield in front of him.

I could see the muscles ripple underneath his hide as he landed near his father. They shared a smile and he shifted down into what I imagined what Ferren looked like when he was younger.

Caramel, short hair, storm grey eyes, and long muscular limbs. His skin was riddled with small scars like he'd been training for this since he was born.

Then it hit me. He had been training for this his whole life. His father was a general and probably expected his son to be the same. This kid was most likely the number one trainee here.

I guess it was very noticeable I was watching him, because after a few nervous glances, Jericho began walking towards me.

I panicked. What was I supposed to do? Should I have started running?

"Uh, hi. Emira right?" He asked awkwardly with a small wave.

"That's correct," was the only thing I could manage to say. I was too busy staring at his jawline to come up with anything else.

"I'm pretty sure you're my opponent in the first spar," he chuckled, watching me look him over with suspension.

"That's correct," I repeated again, more critical of him now. What was his reason for speaking to me? What were his motives?

His smile grew, and I saw a playful streak of light flash in his muted irises. "Is that all you say?"

I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes slightly, trying my best to appear tough. "I'm a woman of action, not words Mr. Jericho."

I could see Ferren analyzing me from a distance as his son and I interacted and it was even more nerve wracking than just talking to his kid.

"Oh really? I hope to see some action in our first spar. My father tells me the last shadow himself is training you."

"We've had a rocky start," I admitted. "But Beck's a good teacher. He'll make sure I'm prepared no matter what. He's an excellent trainer."

Jericho half snorted.

"Is there something funny?" I asked him with hostility.

"I'm worrying it won't be a fair fight for you," he said in probably the kindest way he could, but it still hurt.

"Don't worry. I'll go easy on you," I hissed with a toxic smile to follow.

Jericho ran his fingers through his toffee locks and looked around us. "Look, I don't mean this in an insulting way, but I know you haven't had much training up to this point because of your injury and Beck's, so I don't want you to be further handicapped by another wound. If you want me to lay off during the spar..."

A carnal snarl ripped out of my throat, silencing him. "You'd better watch your back during that spar," I hissed through my teeth.

"I'm not trying to insult you! I just don't want you to get hurt again!" He tried to argue with me politely, while also maintaining patience.

"I don't appreciate people underestimating me. If I'm to lose, I want to lose because you gave it your all and I was truly outmatched. Your father set us against each other because he wants to teach Beck a lesson, but do you really think he'd set you against someone who didn't stand a chance? If he did, then your father must think rather low of you!"

Jericho's face grew red with anger. "Now you listen here. My father doesn't set the matches! He's not involved in anything like that."

I rolled my eyes. "You keep telling yourself that."

"You want a fight? Then that's what you'll get Emira! Your bellicose behavior is going to get you into trouble one day," Jericho shouted, pointing an angry finger at me.

"I look forward to it!" I snapped, pivoting on my feet and storming away from him.

In Beck's room, I found him lying on the bed fast asleep. I had lost all my appetite arguing with Jericho and just simply wanted to rest at that point.

When I sat on the edge of the bed, I was instantaneously dragged backwards roughly. Beck spooned against my back, molding his body to mine.

"How'd practice go?"

"Jericho asked me if I wanted him to go easy on him," I mumbled angrily, harboring most of my disdain to myself.

Beck kissed the back of my neck so softly it felt just like a light brush of his lips. "What'd you do?"

"Told him to watch his back during the spar."

I could feel Beck smile against my skin. "That's my girl," he hummed.

We both settled in on the mattress and I embraced the warmth from his towering figure as he cloaked me with his arm and leg.

Despite his injuries, he was surprisingly energetic. I wondered if it had been the infection making me so sluggish, or if it was just how much stronger he was than me.

I pushed all thoughts from my head, clearing my thoughts to allow myself to succumb to sleep which came like a tidal wave over me.