Draygon Inferno | Book 2 | ✔️

Chapter Eight

           Siobhan glanced up from the bird she was de-feathering to look at Wren. He hadn't moved from his spot by the fire, the same spot she left him in when she went to hunt for food. Flames illuminated his twilight shaded features, the orange glow danced in his transfixed eyes. Wren hadn't spoken since their forced tryst at the hands of the pixie the day before. When they set up their first camp in the hills before Esa'dargo, he immediately rolled himself up into his bed roll and didn't come out even to eat. Siobhan would've thought he was dead until the night sweats started and he once again kicked off his covering.

Now Siobhan forced him out of his shell in order to get some food into him. He'd be no good to her if he starved to death.

"You know it wasn't real, right?"

Wren didn't look up. He continued to stare at the fire as if it was talking to him. Maybe it was. Siobhan had no idea how his magic differed from her own. Fire magic hadn't existed on its own in a person since well before Siobhans great grandfather's time. Even then the records of that time were so sparse she couldn't be sure when the last fire user walked the world. Mages and the Witches of Drakewood could cast fire spells, but they couldn't control it the way Siobhan controlled ice.

"It was the pixie. It played with a seed within us and let it grow."

Wrens eyes twitched, his hands flexed against his knees, but he still remained silent. Siobhan plucked the final feather from the hawk she'd shot down with her arrow. It felt good to hunt again, focusing on something other than Wren and what they might find in Esa'drago. Food would be hard to come across once they began their ascent into the endless snows of the ice blocks. Siobhan cast a glance to her right where the elevation steepened and the ground held patches of snow that never melted. It didn't matter the season the rest of the Highlands found itself in, snow always covered Esa'drago.

She shuddered and removed a wired spigot-like rack Ayla had procured for them before leaving Raiven. It cooked the meat well enough, almost like having a spit, and Siobhan was thankful to avoid sharpening wood for every meal. The way it folded up made it compact and easy to carry. When the bird was carefully cooking over the flame, she sat beside Wren and stared at him.

"Hopefully I caught us enough food until we're done in Esa'drago. I think we'll start our ascent tomorrow as I think I've hunted this area clean today." It wasn't a total lie, much of the animal life was still awakening to the rising spring, but birds were plentiful in the skies as they circled over them like vultures. However, Siobhan wanted to get in and out of Esa'drago as quickly as possible.

Her mind was torn. She wanted to know the fate of her people, but she'd be no good to them when they still thought she was a murderer. For once she thanked the hags for putting her on the right path, a path she should've taken years ago. Rumors of the Dragons Glass existed since she was a child, but she never put much thought into seeing if it still existed to prove her innocence.

She sighed, still staring at Wren. He acted as if he didn't notice her existence.

"It. Wasn't. Real."

His full beard covered any signs his jaw tightened, but his eyes twitched again. The vibrant blue had returned, the signs of his anger once again subdued. Siobhan touched his shoulder, but he jerked away, glaring at her.

"You said it yourself." His words were weighted, harsh, lashing out like the flame crackling over the wood. "The pixies find the truth in a person's heart. That means I . . . you . . ."

"I also said it could be a half truth. So what if we both dislike each other more than we thought?"

Wren grunted. "It's not about that! How in Goddess' name can you think it's about that? It's about . . ." He closed his eyes, releasing a single breath before he opened them again. "My words weren't my own, but at the same time they were. I hated you, for everything that happened to Natalia, for how you always call me a moron, for everything. Yet I couldn't stop thinking about you. How you don't care when you change in front of me, curling up to get warm when we couldn't have a fire, and I hate myself for it."