Kristofer's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Kristofer crouched behind the trunk and watched the den. His cat sat beside his boot, tail curled. Then she stood. Before he could grab her, she slipped past him and trotted down toward the clearing. "No," he hissed. "Come back." She did not stop. She wove between the bones and vanished into a dark gap under the rise. Kristofer's chest went tight. She had led him this whole way. If he lost her here, he had no guide out. He would wander until the beast found him. He could not wait. He drew his knife and crept down the slope after her. His boots slid on the bloody grass. He reached the gap and squeezed in. The passage narrowed into a low cave that smelled of ash and old smoke. He heard her first, a soft chirping mew. Then he saw two shapes in the dark. His cat stood nose to nose with something. It was small, no bigger than she was, with folded wings and scales patterned red and black and orange, like her own patches turned to armor. A young dragon. It looked up at him and did not run. Kristofer froze with the knife raised. The little dragon pressed close to his cat and made a thin, frightened sound. He saw its ribs. He saw the scrapes on its side. This was no beast. This was something the beast had penned here. He lowered the blade. "Easy," he said. "Easy now." He held out his hand. His cat rubbed against the dragon, then walked to him, sure as ever. The dragon followed her. It sniffed his fingers. Its breath was warm. It let him touch its neck. A long shadow crossed the cave mouth. Something huge shifted outside, and gravel rattled down the slope. The beast had come home. Kristofer scooped the cat under one arm. The little dragon climbed his sleeve and clung to his shoulder. He backed to the far wall and found a second gap, a crack of gray light. He pushed through it into the ferns above the den. He ran. He did not look for his knife marks now. He followed his cat, who twisted from his arm and dropped to the ground and took the lead again. She cut a line down through the trees. The dragon rode his shoulder and did not weigh much at all. Behind them the beast roared. The sound shook the branches. Kristofer ran until his legs burned and the roaring fell away. He stopped at last against a tree, gasping. His cat sat panting at his feet. The little dragon looked up at him with trusting eyes. He had not slain the beast. He had done something else. He had taken its prisoner. Now the beast knew his scent, and it would hunt him. And he carried a small live thing that could not defend itself. "Well," he told them both, catching his breath. "We are in it now."