It was nothing.
Chicha had the courage of a mouse, treating every rustling bush and passing night bird as mortal threats, but despite her tiny size, she had the lungs of a lioness and a ferocious bark.
We'd all learned to dismiss her dramatic outbursts.
In the event of real danger, the night guards would blast the bullhorns, rousing the village defenders to arms.
"Quiet, Chicha!" I called out, dragging my pillow over my head.
She barked once more in defiance before dropping to a low growl, but that didn't last long, and soon she launched into another volley of frantic barking.
I loved that little dog dearly, but right now, I could happily banish her to the sheep pen. Not that I'd actually do it, partly because I would hate to extract myself from the warm cocoon ofmy blankets, but mostly because Chicha had mastered the art of wounded dignity. She'd give me that look, all betrayed eyes and drooping ears, until guilt gnawed a hole in my resolve.
Instead, I tried to ignore the racket she was making and go back to sleep, but it was no use.
My mind might have rationalized that the barking was not a likely sign of danger, but the lingering surge of anxious energy coursing through my veins would take time to dissipate.
Sighing, I turned on my back and let my thoughts drift to Dylon and the fate awaiting him at the end of his pilgrimage. Was it selfish of me to wish for my brother not to be granted his heart's desire?
Despite the so-called immortality the bond bestowed upon dragon riders, they rarely survived to old age, and those who did seldom got married or had kids, even though they were encouraged to do so to produce the next generation of riders.
There were never enough of them.
The trait was rare and the number of gifted in the general Elucian population was gradually dwindling, but I couldn't blame the riders for not wanting to raise a family in the Citadel, knowing that their kids might get orphaned before they were ready to fly.
I didn't want that for Dylon. I wanted him to find love, to give our parents grandchildren to spoil, and to grow old in our village, where we knew everyone and everyone knew us.
The truth was that I missed him already, and he'd been gone less than a day. If he joined the Dragon Force, months would pass between his visits home. But if my selfish prayers were answered and he was assigned to any other branch of service, he'd return sooner and more frequently, and when his duty years ended, he'd settle back in our village, and life would continue as it should.
Dylon would hate me if he knew what I prayed for, but he would thank me later when he was surrounded by family, friends, and neighbors whom he'd known his entire life, instead of the cold, lonely skies. Because I’d volunteered to stay behind and watch over our livestock and Chicha so our parents could see him off, I wouldn't even get to hug him one more time and wish him luck before the start of his pilgrimage.
Suddenly the barking ceased, replaced by a quiet whining, which wasn't Chicha's normal mode of operation.
Somethingwaswrong.
I bolted out of bed and hurried downstairs. My bare feet were silent on the wooden steps, but Chicha should have heard me and rushed to greet me, and the fact that she didn't added to my growing sense of dread.
In the kitchen, I found her wedged beneath the sink in her favorite hiding spot, her small body shaking.
"What is it, girl?" I reached for her.
She whimpered and pressed herself further back into her nook.
My heart began to pound. Chicha might be a cowardly little thing, jumping at shadows and fleeing from her own reflection, but in all her years, she had never shrunk away from me.
Her terror was eroding my courage, but I couldn't let fear paralyze me. I had to keep a clear head.
It was most likely a mountain lion or some other wild beast trying to snatch one of our sheep, and the distressed bleats from their shed reinforced my assessment. A Shedun attack was always a possibility, albeit remote, but the guards in the watchtowers would have spotted the monsters long before Chicha could have sniffed them out and sounded the alarm.
Still, a mountain lion was not a beast to trifle with, and I have never taken one on by myself, but there was no one else home, and it was up to me to protect our livestock.
I could do this.
I might be only sixteen, but I had a steady hand and a true aim.
My skill with a rifle was praised not only by my father but also by my instructor in the youth training camp. Even Dylon had grudgingly admitted that I was a better shot than he was.
I can do this,I repeated it in my head as I hurried to the front door, pushed my feet into my mud-covered boots, got my coat on, and grabbed a rifle and two boxes of ammunition from the shelf above the doorframe.
