At any rate, having two dragons in the tribe would make it totally immune against invasion or such things by other tribes.
Dare I hope? Dare I believe that if Vyrathion gets a bit of gold, he and I will be together?
Do I even want that?
Yes. I do now. It was true what I said during our lovemaking. It wasn’t just horniness. I really do love him.
He’s suffered for me and gotten me food and kept me safe. All that from a dragon must be the equivalent of a regular guy serving me the world on a plate.
Maybe that was what loving a dragon looked like. He won’t give you flowers or write poetry. Maybe he will instead carry trees across rivers. Build huts. Steal food and fire from hostile tribes. Stand awake all night making sure nothing eats you.
Maybe dragons love differently. Maybe that’s enough.
The trail winds between enormous roots and curtains of hanging vines. Sunlight filters through the canopy in narrow golden shafts that turn drifting dust into floating sparks.
Ahead of me, Vyrathion pushes away a branch that would force me to crawl. Even in this form he moves through the jungle with effortless confidence, as though everything around him is smaller than it should be.
For a while I just watch him. The strange thing is that I've started thinking of this as normal. Following a dragon through the jungle. Holding his hand. Falling asleep next to him. Worrying about whether he's getting enough gold.
"How much gold do you actually need?" I ask.
Vyrathion doesn't answer immediately. He steps over a fallen log and brushes aside a hanging vine that would have hit me in the face. His eyes stay fixed on the forest ahead.
"I need enough."
"That's not very concrete."
"It’s an impossible question to answer. Probably more than you think."
I consider arguing, then decide there's no point. Dragons and direct answers don't seem to overlap very much. "Humor me."
Vyrathion glances back. "You ask that question as if you're asking how much food a starving lesser creature needs. The answer isn't measured that way. Gold isn't merely useful. It is necessary."
His expression tightens. "When a dragon is healthy, gold is comfort. It’s warmth. It’s force. It’s pleasure. But when a dragon has been deprived of it for years..." He shakes his head. "The lack becomes part of every thought."
I find that answer more unsettling than I expected and I spend the next minute turning his answer over in my head. It sounds less like greed and more like a deficiency. Something biological. Like asking somebody to function without sleep.
"Do you ever think about anything else?" I ask.
"Frequently."
The answer arrives so quickly that I smile. "You spent a few days thinking about me."
His shoulders immediately stiffen. "I spent two days being trapped on an island."
"With me."
"I was aware of your presence."
The corner of my mouth twitches. For someone who claims not to enjoy my company, he spent an awful lot of time holding me, feeding me and finding excuses to stay.
"There has to be gold somewhere." His voice is quiet as he stops.
I look at him standing there, staring into the endless jungle, and suddenly I understand that we're not really searching for treasure.
We're searching for a cure. He's trying to becomewhole.
Something tightens in my chest. For the first time, I wonder what happens if we never find any.
