Sun Bound

Testing One's Limits

Chapter Eight

Testing One's Limits

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George could hardly believe his good fortune. It was this giddy excitement and adrenaline that kept him moving despite his almost overwhelming exhaustion. Even though he feared what he might attract, he did light a small campfire. There just wasn't any other sensible choice. He was far from the main camp with a new dragon. His bedroll was too thin to really protect him from the biting chill as the sun sank. He also needed the light because this dragon did not want to be caught and George couldn't see in the dark if something happened.

George carefully loosened the rope and bound both wings of the unmoving animal together. He knew from their link that animal's left wing joint was paining it. The squire examined it carefully. It had been rubbed raw from the rope but there was no real structural damage. It should heal perfectly fine.

Still feeling unsafe, George took out the cloth bandages from his pack and carefully wrapped the dragon's muzzle closed. Similar to a crocodile, a dragon's muscle structure usually meant they could close their jaws with more power than they could wrench their mouths open again. The bandages should be enough to stop the animal biting. The dragon was half asleep, its strange slitted pupils unfocused. When it woke it would surely be in a foul mood.

George threw a few more logs on the fire and settled down to get as much sleep as possible before his new dragon woke. It was not a comfortable night, but it could have been much worse. At least nothing came out of the darkness to attack them. Every jostle from the bound animal woke George, who could barely rest as it was. He was able to get a few hours before the beast he leant against woke with the rising sun.

As it wakened, thoughts and emotions stirred in George's brain. He now knew they weren't his own feelings. 'Good morning,' he said.

His dragon was not interested in conversation. It tried to yawn, realized it could not open its mouth, and began to shake its head. George leapt to his feet as the reptile writhed and twisted, clawing at the muzzle and collar.

'Stop it!' The collar glowed a bright blue, and the dragon was pinned in place. Anger bubbled across their link like hot water over a fire. 'I'm sorry, but I have to bring you back with me and I don't want you to hurt yourself.' George carefully tugged the bandages back into place and ran a hand over the smooth green scales. The beast growled angrily.

'Alright,' George sighed, picking up his gear. 'Let's go.' He tried to coax the animal to walk. The collar glowed and the dragon began to move but it fought him for every inch of ground. Before the sun was over the trees, George was drenched in sweat and his head was aching. He paused on a ridge, looking down into a little valley. A very long way off, George could see dark grey and purple clouds. It must be snowing over there, but how densely it fell and how fast it would travel, he didn't know. He could only hope the weather held up for his trip back to Sir Logan.

This was going to a be a very long day...

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Damon licked the last of his meal from his claws. He'd gotten better at grooming himself after eating, mainly because Lune hated it when he tried to nuzzle up with his muzzle still covered in blood and gristle. Like the pretty little songbird he was, Lune was a clean beastie and liked to keep himself that way.

Damon and Jason's trip to Holyridge Grove with Garret had been an enormous waste of time. The problem was the riders just weren't receiving the news of the attacks quickly enough. They had arrived as fast as the dragons could fly, but the livestock had already been stolen. There was no tracks to follow and only a vague description of two rogue riders of large darkly coloured mounts. The villagers hadn't been educated enough to know the sub breed of the dragons that attacked.