His dragon rumbles, a sound of frustration and urgency. We need to leave. Now. I sense it. Feel it in every part of me, and I agree, but not without that damned phone.
“It’s under the cabinet.” I point at the piece of furniture in question. “I can’t get to it, and we can’t leave without it.”
Through the bond, I push the image of the corner cabinet at him. Of the phone wedged behind the leg.
I hope it’s working.
He puts me down. Then he hooks his talon under the edge of the heavy furniture and simply flips it aside as if it weighs nothing. The cabinet crashes into the wall, the impact making the remaining structure groan.
I rush over and grab the cellphone. The screen is badly cracked. I push it into my other pocket, where it can’t get lost.
Grim’s dragon rumbles his approval. Then his talon is around me again, and we’re shooting upward through the destroyed roof.
The acceleration is brutal. My stomach drops. The ground falls away so fast it makes me dizzy.
Gunfire erupts from below, but once again, I feel his muscles tense around me as bullets strike his scales.
Then we’re above the chaos, climbing fast into the open sky.
Down below, I see an injured dragon trying desperately to fly. It’s flapping its wings and taking small bounding leaps, its rider is still on its back. I heave a sigh when the dragon isn’t successful.
There is also a white dragon lying in the parking lot. It looks completely unconscious…or dead. I pray it’s the former because Grim wouldn’t have wanted to kill it. The rider spots us and starts shouting. I can’t hear what she’s saying because we’re flying away.
“Go to the meeting place,” I tell him. “The spot where we always meet with Drake. Go there now.”
Grim banks, changing course. At first, his flight is strong and sure. But after a few minutes, I feel him starting to slow.
His wingbeats become labored, less coordinated.
“Grim?” Fear claws at my throat. “Grim, stay with me.”
I think he’s injured. No, I know he is. He has to be after that.
He’s losing altitude. Not quickly, but steadily. Each downward dip gets a little lower than the last.
“Come on,” I urge him. “You can make it. Just a little farther.”
I have no idea how far we have to go, but I urge him on anyway.
His dragon pushes on, driven by sheer stubbornness and the need to get me to safety. But I can feel him fading. The pain, the exhaustion, and the trauma are catching up to him.
Several times, it feels like he’s going to fall from the sky. His wings falter. His body tilts dangerously to one side. But each time, he manages to correct himself. Keeps flying.
The landscape below us starts to look familiar. I recognize the cluster of rock formations. The line of trees.
We’re almost there.
“That’s it,” I encourage him. “You’re doing great. Just a little more.”
Grim’s wings beat weakly as we approach the meeting place.
We’re coming in too fast. Too steep.
“Grim, slow down! You need to—”
We hit the ground hard.
The impact jars every bone in my body. Grim doesn’t let go of me even as we crash. Even as his body tumbles and rolls. He curves himself around me, taking the brunt of the fall. His huge form plows through brush and rocks, gouging a trail through the earth.
