A story about Sang, the first ever female to receive the mark of a dragon. Entering a world where males reign supreme, she struggles to prove that a woman has what it takes to be a great rider. Even if the dragon she's paired with is stubborn, moody...
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Silas
The captivating beauty in front of me narrowed her eyes into slits, making me feel oddly bereft that I couldn't gaze into the stunning green hues. I felt a twinge of guilt after her relaxed, almost serene, state was ruined by my presence. With her attractively defined muscles clamped tight and her once plump lips formed into a thin line, I didn't have to guess whether or not I was welcomed.
I didn't blame her for her wariness. None of us would ever hurt her, but she had a life that we crashed in to without a second thought. That was one of the many hardships every rider had to experience and it was harder for some than others. Several of my brothers were lucky to have an escape from the lives they lived before their dragons.
But for Sang, it was evident that she cared for the people in Zalfari, and they, her. Her home life from what we could tell seemed shaky at best, but the love she had from her people seemed to lessen that ache for her. That didn't mean that her eyes carried less shadows, or that when one looked upon them, they wouldn't notice the amount of knowledge she held about the cruelness in the world.
She wouldn't be trusting us anytime soon, that much was obvious.
"What are you doing here?" She calmly asked, her defensive stance not loosening.
I smiled sheepishly and held up my sword, which had a broken tip, making it jagged and very unappealing to look at and wield. Men of these days tended to take great pride in their weapons and I was no different.
"Ah." she nodded as understanding creeped into her expression.
I looked at her worktable and the object resting on it. It was a beautiful silver dagger that had the same distinct mark that seared itself upon both of our wrists the moment we were chosen for a life greater than most could imagine. A dragon's head rested right at the base, close to the cross guard. I took a step forward and found the word Gideon carved in impressive cursive.
"This is remarkable. You craft weapons?" I asked, not bothering to hide the dazed glaze from my tone.
I smothered a grin as her cheeks tinted a soft shade of pink. It looked like tough-girl Sang turned into shy-girl Sang when complimented.
She cleared her throat behind a fist and looked away. "Yes."
"Can I see it?"
She slowly nodded and picked the dagger up from the dirty work station and handed it to me. The rough skin of my palm made contact with the smoothness of the pommel as I held it to the light that was shining from an open window.
"This is a great talent. How long have you been doing this?"
Her tough exterior cracked a bit as a wistful smile appeared on her face. "Ever since I could remember, really. Henry, our village's blacksmith, taught me everything I know."
