Violet Stormwing's Arc

Chapter 31 of 46

The great dragon rose from the field, and behind Violet the pink dragon shrank low against the grass. It had brought her here. It had read the stone and woken this beast. Now it trembled. Its wings clamped tight to its sides, and a thin whine escaped its throat. Violet turned and saw the truth. Her mount, her only way out of this valley, was breaking with fear. She understood the danger at once. If the pink dragon bolted, it would leave her on foot before a wild dragon larger than any she had faced. She could not chase it down. She could not fly without it. Everything depended on steadying the frightened one first. Odette's oath still bound her tongue. Violet could not speak to command the wild dragon or her mount. But calming had never needed words. She had won the pink dragon once with patience, not force. She would do it again with her hands. Slowly, she stepped back toward her shaking mount. She kept her body between the two dragons, small and open. She raised no blade. The wild dragon watched, unmoving, one ancient eye fixed on them both. Violet reached the pink dragon and pressed her palm flat to its heaving side. She felt the fast drum of its heart under the scales. The waterfall hissed. The valley held still. Violet remembered what this dragon loved. In the ruined village she had fed it berries. In the cave she had joined it to her flight with shared food. She looked down through the scattered blossoms and found what grew among them. A vine wound along the ground, threaded with pale moon-shaped flowers. She had used its kind before to earn a dragon's trust. She gathered a length of the vine one-handed, never leaving the pink dragon's side. She lifted the blooms to its snout. The dragon's nostrils flared. Its whine caught. It knew the smell. Slowly it lowered its head and took the vine from her fingers. Its heartbeat slowed under her palm. The trembling eased. The wings loosened from its sides. Violet let out her breath. Her mount stood firm again, close and calm, chewing the pale flowers. She had not lost it. She was not grounded. She turned back to the wild dragon with her feet planted and her flight intact. But the steadying had cost her. The pink dragon now pressed hard against her, seeking her, wanting only to leave. It had guided her to this valley and it wanted nothing more of the beast in the field. And the wild dragon had watched every move. It had seen her soothe the smaller one, seen the vine change hands. Its great head lowered toward her, curious now, testing. Violet stood between a mount that longed to flee and a wild dragon that had begun, at last, to come closer.