"What's wrong?" I blurt, concern momentarily overriding my simmering annoyance and almost boiling over arousal.
He throws a hand up, dismissively waving away my question. "Nothing," he rasps, his voice strained. "Just a little something caught in my throat."
The haughty dismissal grates on me.
This arrogant lizard nearly choked to death and now he acts like it's a minor inconvenience?
My hand instinctively tightens around my makeshift dagger, the urge to launch it at his smug dino face a very real temptation.
He is infuriating.
But logic intervenes. Throwing the dagger would accomplish nothing more than shattering it and potentially giving him a minor scratch. Besides, right now, cooperation is the only thing keeping us both alive.
Not to mention, I recognize that my rage is unfounded. He gets under my skin, and I don't like it.
Right now, that dislike is channeling into anger. It feels more comfortable than the story swapping, anyway.
I've told him more of my life and fears than anyone I can remember, and even after hearing his stories, I know almost nothing about what makes him tick. He's essentially a stranger, and I'm telling him personal things.
It's weird and I don't like feeling this way.
"Well, whatever it is," I say, my voice clipped, "get it under control. We need to move."
The sun dips behind a veil of thick clouds, casting the clearing in a cool, dappled shade. The oppressive heat recedes slightly, offering a reprieve.
"Speaking of moving," I continue, hoisting my backpack onto my shoulders, "where to from here? We can stick to the forest, avoid any more, uh, surprises like that last one."
My voice trails off, the memory of the giant creature still sending a shiver down my spine. "Maybe stay close enough to the border in case we need to cut our losses and head back to the desert."
Drasuk's spines shift in a way I know means he's amused. "Scared of a little sand now, are we, little human?"
I grit my teeth. This insufferable creature. One well-placed rock might be the answer to all my problems.
And wouldn't that be poetic justice?
With a flick of my wrist, I launch a pebble in his direction. It finds its mark with a satisfyingthunk, landing squarely between his eyes. The annoying cant of his spines changes, replaced by a surprised blink.
"See?" I say, unable to suppress a triumphant smirk. "Not so invincible now, are you, lizard man?"
He groans, rubbing the spot where the rock connects. "A violent little thing, aren't you?"
"Says the nine-foot-tall killing machine," I retort, rolling my eyes. "Come on, before you decide to turn me into lunch."
For a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crosses his features. Then, with a dramatic sigh that ruffles the surrounding leaves, he rises up out of the water, considerably cleaner now.
He blinks again, and I watch his eyes warily to see the gears turning in his head before he reaches up with a sharp toothy snarl to rub the spot where the rock made contact.
"Seems the little human has a good throwing arm," he mutters.
"I have surprises."
"That has been made quite evident," he chuckles, a deep rumbling sound that sends shivers down my spine despite myself.
I flip him the bird, the childish gesture feeling strangely empowering in this alien situation. He throws his head back and laughs, a sound that echoes eerily through the trees.
Standing up, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head deeper into the forest. No point in waiting for Drasuk to decide when we move. He can follow or not, but I'm not babysitting a giant, reptilian pain in the neck.
Maybe he'll just stay here.
