It was for the best anyway. If we’d left at the same time, it would have felt like we were journeying together. We would have shared more stories, and likely more ale, and a few more campfires along the way in a dance of strangers to friends…to strangers again. It would have been harder to leave when he eventually took one fork in the path and I took another.
For him, anyway. I never let myself forget that every hello came with a goodbye.
Still, I paused by the muddy tracks after collecting my bedroll. They were fresh enough that Ragnar couldn’t have left that long ago. If I hurried, I’d catch him up. So I took my time. I inspected my wheels, whistled for Reykur, and fed him the last of Mabel’s treats. As I finished preparing to leave, the dragon sat chomping away in the middle of the road, his spiked tail thumping like he was an oversized hound.
“It’s just you and me,” I told him. “Now and always, all right?”
Reykur tilted his head to the side and huffed.
“Don’t you make that sound at me.Heleft first. And besides, I barely even know him. He’s just some man I met on the road,” I said. “There’s nothing special about that. I meet lots of people all the time.”
Reykur just continued to stare at me with eyes I swore looked sad. Ignoring him, I gathered the yokes in my hands and started down the road again. The wagon heaved, bucking against the rough ground, and this time, I was careful to steer the wheels away from muddy potholes. I didn’t think I’d be so lucky if I got stuck again.
The day passed as slowly as the wagon. And my dragon never once left my side.
* * *
Musical chimes drifted on the wind. I slowed and wiped my sweat from my brow, wincing at my throbbing feet. Down the gently rolling hill, Riverwold’s thatched roofs formed a patchwork quilt of homes a few miles from the hazy coastline. Smoke curled from stone chimneys, and the lush scent of apple pie made my mouth water. I’d never been more relieved to see civilization. The month-long journey weighed heavily on my aching shoulders. Even my bones felt tired.
To the north of the village, the festival grounds were already crammed full of merchant wagons and colorful tents. It had taken me longer than I’d expected this time, and preparation was in full swing. It was still two weeks until Yule, but folk from all around the Isles would begin pouring into the village any day now—if they hadn’t already. Over the coming days, muted celebrations would build to a crescendo of folk music, pie-eating competitions, and packed crowds that danced and sang and drank the nights away. Yule marked the death of one year and the birth of another. It was how the folk of the Isles ushered in harmony, happiness, and bounty for the coming months. And even though I was exhausted by the end of it, I always left Riverwold with hope in my heart.
Reykur lumbered up beside me, sniffing the pie scent on the air. I fought a smile. The greedy dragon sure did love to eat.
“You’ll have to head to your favorite lair in the mountains now,” I said. “I’ll bring you some pies when I can.”
He huffed, and the red of his flank burned hot.
“No, not this time. They’re still terrified of dragons.” I smiled sadly. “But I’ll try to make them see some sense, all right? Maybe next year it’ll be safe enough for you to join the celebrations.”
Snorting, he shoved up from the ground and soared toward the mountains, his wings cast wide against the mottled sky. I shielded my eyes from the sun, watching him vanish into the clouds. My heart ached. It wasn’t fair that he had to hide. He’d never hurt someone intentionally, but the people of Hearthaven struggled to forget the past. Years ago, cruel folk on the mainland had used dragons for their powerful magic—until the magic had consumed them, driving them to do terrible things.
As a response, the empire had killed almost every dragon alive, convinced they were the cause of it all. Only four eggs had survived. My brother and I had smuggled the newborns into Hearthaven, where we’d raised them. After Daella had bonded with one of them, the people of Wyndale had softened toward the dragons, but the other villages of Hearthaven had yet to shake their fear.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. He would have to spend most of Yule alone.
It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t fair, but maybe I could change some minds this year.
I hauled my wagon the rest of the way down the hill alone, and a light dusting of mist began to drift from the thickening clouds. When I reached the outskirts of the village, several bundled children ran past giggling and screaming, their ruddy cheeks bright from the cold.
Smiling, I trudged past them down the road that rimmed the edge of Riverwold. Even though winter was upon us, dense vines curled up the sides of the stone buildings, twisting around the branches of the thatched roofs. A few blue winter flowers sprouted from the carpet of grass that flanked every home and every stretch of road. Ravens circled overhead, cawing in delight.
At the end of the lane, I came to the sprawling meadow that backed up against a patch of woods. I slowed to a stop, the sounds of the gathered merchants washing over me. Hammers pounded stumps into the ground to hold down tent ropes. Saws scraped through wood as signs were built. Dishes clattered. Laughter boomed. And the steady buzz of conversation was an undercurrent beneath it all.
“Lilia!” a voice proclaimed from behind me.
I turned. A small dwarven woman with braided black hair bustled toward me, her green eyes as bright as her smile. She wore bells in her hair that twinkled with her every step. Her curvy hips swayed beneath her woollen trousers.
“Nilsa,” I said, beaming. When she reached me, I wound my arms around her. She squeezed me back.
“You’re late,” she said, pulling away and tapping me on the nose. “What took you so long?”
I laughed. “Nice to see you, too. How’s the inn?”
She waved dismissively. “The inn isn’t important. It’s the same as always. We need to talk about you. Did something happen on the road? You’re usually one of the first to show up. We thought you weren’t coming.”
The image of Ragnar and his rugged face popped into my head, but I instantly shoved it away. She wasn’t asking about a random man I’d met on my journey, a man who almost felt like a figment of my imagination now. I’d seen no sign of him on the road since he vanished that morning, and no one in Milford had mentioned him when I’d passed through. ‘Course I hadn’t asked about him, either, though I’d spent one long night wondering if I should.
I cleared my throat. “It was just muddier than usual. I had to take it slow so I didn’t get stuck.”
