LINTON
Idid not want to put my Kaitlyn down. Having her in my arms seems the most natural thing in the Yeavering, and yet up until now, I’ve always thought it was daggers.
I like daggers. I like anything with a blade. But I think I like Kaitlyn more.
Nothing will hurt her. And my daggers will come in useful.
I need to get her to my lair as soon as possible, but with the sun rising, it makes my wings less effective even to carry me, let alone carry my little female. Until the full moon rises and I can restore my powers, we’ll have to do a mixture of walking and flying.
I also need to feed so badly my stomach is in a constant painful knot, and it means my head is not always present.
Sometimes I am thinking of past feeds. Sometimes I am thinking of past battles where blood ran freely.
Sometimes I am thinking about cutting the wings off every Faerie lord and lady I can find.
It means Kaitlyn has asked me a question and I didn’t hear it.
Instead I make a grunting noise in the hope she might repeat what she has said.
“I need to rest, Linton,” she says. “And I need some water.”
I look at her. Two bright spots sit on her cheeks, her lips the incredible red which sends my heart pounding. Her bright green eyes study mine.
“We’ve been walking for hours, and I need a break,” she exhorts me. “Don’t you?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “What’s a break?”
Kaitlyn stares at me for a long time. She doesn’t blink and it’s a little disconcerting.
“It’s when you stop doing what you’re doing and, well, don’t do it for a while.”
“I haven’t killed anything in a while. I’ve had a break.” I grin at her.
“That’s not what I mean. Humans need to rest from time to time. It’s how we’re made.”
“I know humans,” I say with a nod.
She folds her arms. “Who?”
I think for a while. There was the mate of the Lambton Wyrm, although he never let me get close to her. And there was the mate of the Barghest. He never let me get close to her either. But I’m sure both of them count.
“Two other females,” I say triumphantly.
“Two?”
“Two.”
“So, what do you know about humans?” She drops onto a low boulder on the edge of the track.
“They are nice to touch. They have a scent. They need torest.” I give her a knowing look. “Some of them make things which are sticky.”
“Wow,” she says, with a slightly odd smile, folding her arms. “You do know a lot about humans after all.”
My wings bristle with pleasure, and the knot in my stomach eases, meaning I can stand straighter. All around us, my scales dance in the bars of sunlight breaking through the forest canopy.
“What is that?” Kaitlyn asks. “The stuff coming off your wings.”
“My scales.” I reach up to catch some of them, missing as I always do when I haven’t fed for a long time, opening and closing my hands as they float out of reach.
