Chapter Ten – The Dragon’s Favorite Strays
Chapter Ten
DAKOTA
It’s the weirdest night of my life.
We sit around the fire with a naked dragon (in the shape of a man) and roast meat for hours. The cats climb all over us, fearless with Murr nearby, and cry to be fed until they’ve gorged themselves. Part of me wants to save the meat and chase the cats away, but I remember how possessive Murr was of the kitten that I’d taken with me, and I feed them all without complaint.
Murr is quiet and watches us more than anything. It’s like he’s trying to decipher us and doesn’t quite comprehend anything we do or say. He doesn’t eat, though, and when we pack up for the night, I try to offer him the remainder of meat since it’s his kill. The dragon-man makes an unhappy sound and insists we take it with us, and I walk back to the old bookstore with a dripping, bleeding side of beef in my arms.
It feels like a treasure. A heavy, heavy, wet treasure.
“What are we going to do with that, Mom?” Rabbit whispers as we head back. “Won’t it go bad?”
“We’re going to have beef for breakfast, lunch, and dinner tomorrow,” I say. “And between all these books, surely one will tell us how to preserve the meat and make jerky.”
It’s not something I’ve had to worry about in the past because we’ve never had enough meat left over. Meat is a scarcity, a rarity in the After. Tonight was a feast, and one I don’t expect to happen regularly…or ever again. We’ll eat our food and leave this place to the dragon and just chalk this up as a weird occurrence.
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The next morning, I yawn and roll over, groaning to myself at the weird dreams I had. Meat sleep, I decide, rubbing my eyes. I fling my hands out and smack into a foot, and open my eyes.
Murr is staring down at me from over my bed.
I bite back a yelp of shock and shrink back. When did he get inside? I thought dragons couldn’t get into buildings for some reason, that we’d be safe if we were indoors. But here he is, crouching next to my sleep pallet as if he’s been waiting for me to wake up. He bares his teeth at me in an imitation of a smile. “Dakotah.”
“Hi,” I breathe, and sit up. The look I shoot him is wary. Is something wrong? Is he waiting for us to leave?
But he only watches me with interest. Maybe he isn’t demanding that we leave as much as he just doesn’t have any concept of privacy. Or space. Or the fact that he’s terrifying. It’s not just his size, it’s the way he carries himself. It’s the almost predatory gaze that roams over me, missing nothing.
“Is there a problem?” I whisper, but of course he won’t answer. He doesn’t speak English. I don’t even know that he speaks, except to mimic us.
He gestures at me. “Dakotah.” Then at himself. “Murr.” And he gives me that unsettling, unnatural grin that’s more of a grimace than anything.
“You just came over to say hi?” I ask, running my hand through my sleep-tangled hair and wondering if it’d be too alarming if I casually reached for a weapon. I decide against it, because he doesn’t seem unfriendly. Just like he’s waiting for something.
Oh shit, what if he wants the meat back? What if he changed his mind? What if he gave it to us so we could feed the cats?
I gesture at the tarp-covered table a short distance away. I’m afraid of mice or bugs getting to it, so I wrapped the raw meat carefully in a tarp and weighed down the ends of the tarp with the heaviest books I could find so nothing can climb in. My goal today is to figure out how to preserve all that meat, but if he wants it back, he can have it. Our lives aren’t worth a haunch of beef, no matter how delicious. “You want it back? The meat?”
When he gives me a confused look, I make an eating gesture and then point at him.
Murr gets to his feet, and then I have to close my eyes politely and clear my throat. When he stands up, I get full frontal nudity, not even two feet away from my face. Good lord. His cock might as well be a cobra for all its hypnotic power, and I’m trying my best not to ogle him. It’s just that…well, it’s enormous. And hanging. And golden. And just…dang.
Poor Rabbit is getting anatomy lessons that are really gonna fuck her up in the future when she meets a nice normal human man, but it’s not like I can politely ask my guest to wear pants. Not when he can sear my face off with a thought.
I squeeze an eye open and watch him. The dragon-man pads over to the table (of course he’s got clawed toes, of course) and pokes at the tarp, then turns and gives me a confused look. He pats the table and then points at me. “Dakotah.”
And he mimes eating.
I smile again, relieved. Okay, this is just a friendly visit, then. No take-backs. “Sorry if I’m skittish. I just don’t know what to think about dragons, buddy.” I get up and stretch, yawning. Hopefully Rabbit won’t freak out when she wakes up and sees our guest. I debate waking her up but maybe he’ll leave before she does and I won’t even have to bring it up.
When he continues to watch me expectantly, I wonder if he’s just here to observe, like we’re animals in a zoo, or fish in an aquarium. We’re his entertainment. He’s not speaking and not demanding anything, so I decide to stick with my original plan — find out how to preserve meat.
