The head and eyes stopped moving.
In a flash of movement as fast as Gareth could follow, the dragon spun to one side and darted past Gareth. It sprinted to the goat tied to the tree. Leaping high, it managed to cling onto the rear leg of the goat. It gripped the skin of the hip with tiny talons. Sharp teeth sank into the warm flesh, tearing a chunk of meat free.
In response, the goat leaped and flailed, kicking all four feet. It bawled, eyes open wide in terror. It pulled at the halter as it danced in fear of the dragon riding its leg, trying to break free. Then the goat leaped high into the air and spun in wild circles trying to throw off the beast that was eating it alive. The dragon held on. The dragon tore another mouthful from the same hip and swallowed. The goat ran in more circles, bleating as loud as any full-grown buck.
Gareth dived into the fray as fast as he could. He missed the dragon with his first grab and managed to get his hands on it and pull it free with the next. The dragon fought and twisted, then leaped from his hands. Once on the ground, it eyed the goat again, ready for another attack.
Gareth leaped between them, arms spread wide, preventing the dragon from reaching the goat, again. When the dragon moved left Gareth was already there, like a game. It moved right. Gareth got there first. Barely. “No!” Gareth shouted. “You don’t eat my goat!”
The dragon’s tongue flicked out and licked the last of the fresh goat blood from black lips. The red eyes remained on Gareth . . . and the goat bawling behind him.
“No!”
The dragon edged closer.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Still keeping himself positioned between the dragon and goat, Gareth waved his arms up and down and shouted, “Stay back! No! Leave the goat alone.” After a time, the dragon and goat separated. However, the dragon acted like a wrestler eager for the next round as it danced and darted, looking for an opening. It avoided every attempt Gareth made to grab it.
The goat watched them with wide, terrified eyes. It bellowed and stretched the halter rope wire-tight as it put as much space between it and the black fury determined to make a meal of it. Blood ran freely down the goat’s hind leg, two patches of fur missing from the haunch.
The dragon finally paused at Gareth’s shouted orders, looked from the goat to Gareth, and back again as if deciding how it might manage one more bite. Then it calmed, moved closer to Gareth, and emitted a small sound, almost a “purr”, as if trying to clear its throat.
“Don’t purr to me, you monster. Why’d you eat my goat?”
The dragon’s wings wilted. The head swayed slowly back and forth as if the head was suddenly too heavy for the serpentine neck. It turned to one side and made the purring sound again, before moving carefully closer to stand near Gareth’s foot. It looked up at him but didn’t race up his leg, as usual. The dragon attentively rubbed its neck on Gareth’s leg in an affectionate manner. Gareth’s instincts wanted to lean down and console the chick with a few gentle pats, but he reconstructed the savage attack on the goat in his mind and waited.
And he watched the dragon. His vision blurred. He felt a wave of dizziness, then a shift in focus. Blinking, he reached for a nearby branch and steadied himself while shutting his eyes tightly and trying to remain upright. He no longer looked at things from his perspective. His vision flashed into a sharper image than ever, details of the bark of distant trees clearer and sharper. The individual leaves of trees across the meadow swayed with the breeze. Each vein of each leaf stood out as if inspecting them from a few inches away.
He saw an image of himself standing above, looking angry and perplexed.
Gareth’s sense of balance wavered. He gripped the branch harder.
The twisted vision passed with another wash of dizziness, again a switching of focus like looking at something far off and then quickly changing to something nearby. He looked down at the bloodstained dragon, tongue darting out to gather a stray drip of blood from its chest.
What just happened? Gareth sat on the ground before he fell.
The dragon acted forlorn. Gareth knew the beast only did what dragons do when it tried to eat the goat. A natural reaction. It was hungry and tried to make a meal out of the goat. His responsibility was to teach it and keep it under control. His other responsibility was to protect the goat. It brought up the question of dragons being taught and learning. Was it even possible for them to learn? He didn’t know, but if the army used them in warfare, dragons must be capable of at least some basic skills.
He pictured a dragon in the king’s army attacking the wrong side in a battle and spewing black acid over them. Dragons must have at least enough intelligence to tell one army from the other. Probably they were much smarter than that, but he had no way of telling. Nobody to ask. The dragon standing beside him gave no indication of intelligence. At least, not so far.
Gareth spoke to it in a firm voice. “You have to leave my goat alone. Listen, I’ll feed you all you need, or, at least, try to teach you what is okay to eat.” He stroked the dragon, running his hand down the sharply ridged back and across the folded wings, finding the skin on the wings pliable and loose, and slightly warmer to the touch than expected. The animal closed its eyes and leaned closer to his ankle, as if in pure ecstasy with every touch. “What am I going to do with you?”
Gareth remembered Tom telling him about the baby ducks following their mother, or whoever they thought of as their mother, for their lifetimes. He stood and took a few steps away. After a pause, the dragon skittered to settle near his feet, again. He walked a few steps into the field of wheat, the chicken-sized monstrosity waiting until he gained a few paces before hurrying to catch up.
A field mouse darted across their path.
The dragon spotted it. The tiny head spun to watch. The whole body came alert, and the anxious eyes glanced up at Gareth. When he didn’t object, it darted after the mouse. In a couple of heartbeats, the dragon returned, mouth dripping red again, and looking as if it could have formed a smile, it would have.
“Mice aren’t going to satisfy you for long, my little friend. Not if you keep eating like this.” Gareth went to the goat and found it had calmed somewhat, but kept its eyes fixed on the dragon’s every move. After examining the wound and ensuring the goat would live, he walked back to the bedroll and lean-to. The dragon led the way, and the goat followed well behind. Every time the goat caught sight of the dragon, it snorted and tugged at the rope, but the dragon ignored her. After building a small fire, Gareth spread the blanket on soft grass under the lean-to and folded it over himself. In seconds, the dragon found the edge of the blanket with its tiny nose and wriggled underneath. It found its customary resting place at Gareth’s waist.
Is it going to still try sleeping with me when it’s as big as I am? Bigger? The way it eats that might only be a week from now. What have I gotten myself into?
He lay awake thinking of all that had happened in a few days. Back in Dun Mare, he had dreamed of adventure and excitement as he followed the ox while plowing. He had pictured himself as the hero, defeating enemies with ease. Now he hid under scraps of wood and waited for an old man to arrive and direct him on how to hide to survive with his goat for another day. Gareth felt tired of running. He felt his resistance growing with each breath.
He had expected Tom to visit during the night and explain what they would do next, but near dawn, Gareth woke and realized he was still on his own. The night whispers had come again, whispering tales of mistrust and suggesting he take the dragon and run off, alone. Nothing more specific, but they seemed clearer, more distinct than ever before. Almost understandable instead of vague feelings and hints, like shifting shadows in the moonlight. They gave him no reasons as to why he needed to run away, and no mention of where. Just distinct feelings of danger and mistrust.