Chapter Twenty-Eight – The Dragon’s Favorite Strays
Chapter Twenty-Eight
DAKOTA
We settle the two ladies into my ‘room’ in our bookstore with my extra blankets and my bedding. “I’ll sleep with Rabbit tonight,” I tell them. “We can talk more in the morning.”
The women take off their shoes and set down their gear by the bed, and Aggie takes off her wig, revealing a few silvery wisps over a bright pink scalp. She notices me watching her and points at me with a warning look. “Don’t steal my hair. I need it or I get the worst sunburn.”
“I promise I won’t,” I manage, straightfaced. What would I do with the world’s mangiest wig? Even as far as wigs go, it looks downright terrible and full of snarls, but I imagine a scalp sunburn is worse.
She sets the wig down atop her shoes with a pat and then curls up under the blankets as I move away. I notice that Dottie keeps her shotgun close at hand even as she pulls the bedding over herself.
Rabbit has a candle lit, and I can hear her talking to Kermit the cat as she gets ready for bed on the other side of the shelf ‘wall’. I hesitate, then go to find Murr, to check in with him. I’m not entirely surprised to find him waiting outside the bookstore’s doors, out on the broken cement curb. He’s seated on the ground, legs crossed, and in the darkness I can make out several pairs of gleaming cat eyes. Dad is spending time with his kids, I think affectionately. He’s got a good heart, this dragon.
I sit next to him on the ground and sputter as a cat immediately jumps into my lap. “Oh, hello.”
There’s a low rumble in Murr’s throat, and I realize he’s amused. I scratch at the cat’s ears as it begins to purr, and glance over at my dragon companion. There’s so many things I want to talk about with him. Does he trust Dottie and AGgie? Am I just on high alert and they’re harmless? Are we putting ourselves at risk? Or is bringing them in the right thing to do? I discuss some things with Rabbit, but there’s always a limit because I don’t want to scare her. I can never truly confide in her because my ‘Mom’ brain is constantly filtering things to protect her.
But gosh, it’d be nice to be able to confide in someone.
“Dakotah good?” Murr asks after a moment, as if he senses my worry.
Am I? There’s not a word in his vocabulary yet that encapsulates what I am right now. “Good,” I eventually agree. “Just lots of thoughts. Murr good?”
“Murr Dakotah, Ribbit. Good.”
That should not sound as sweet as it does. He’s telling me that because he’s with us, he’s good. At least, I think that’s what he’s saying. I smile over at him, and even though it’s dark out here, I could swear he’s studying my face. Looking for more clues to our conversation, maybe?
“Sleep?” he asks after a moment.
Is he asking about our guests, or if I look tired? I’m frustrated on his behalf and it reminds me that we need to continue his language lessons in the morning. “Dakotah sleep with Rabbit,” I tell him. “Aggie and Dottie sleep inside, too.”
He takes my hand, startling me with how warm his grip is. He presses it on the concrete between us. “Murr sleep here.” He pauses and then adds, “Drrrraaagn sleep.”
He forms the words carefully, and I’m surprised because I don’t remember teaching him that word. Has Rabbit been working with him too? “To protect us? Thank you.”
His hand remains atop mine for a moment longer, and I get flustered all over again. I’m out here practically holding hands with a dragon. It’s not a good idea – I shouldn’t be encouraging him. I don’t want him to misread signs between us.
Hell, I don’t want to misread the signs between us. He’s been asking about kisses and his questions might be completely innocent. Just because kisses can be sexual to me doesn’t mean they are to him. I need to remind myself of all of that every time I talk to him.
And now’s as good a time as any to get up. I pull the cat out of my lap and hand it to him. “Dakota sleep Rabbit now.”
He says nothing. I go inside the store, shutting the door quietly behind me, and then putting my hand on the wall. In the darkness, I feel my way along to Rabbit’s ‘room’. Her candle is out, and I nearly trip over a stack of books. I catch myself before I fall over, but not before I cuss at it (and at myself for wandering in the dark).
“Mom?” She whispers.
“It’s me. Go back to sleep.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“I’m not.” I sit down against the wall, my back to it, and feel around for the bag I placed here earlier. My crossbow is nearby and I set it down next to my legs. “I’m going to play guard. You sleep, though.”
“You don’t need to guard. We have Murr. He’ll keep us safe.”
I’m sure she’s right, but my instincts tell me to be on alert anyhow. Just in case we’ve let a threat in glasses and a frizzy blonde wig into our territory. “It’s fine, honey. Go to sleep, okay? I’m not tired anyhow.”
She yawns in the darkness. “You sure? I can share my blankets. Kermit’s under them but I can make him move.”
I wince. “He’s under the blankets? He might have fleas, Rabbit.”
“He doesn’t. None of them do. I think it’s Murr’s smell. It scares the fleas away. None of them scratch, haven’t you noticed?” There’s a happy note in her sleepy voice. “I love the cats, Mom. Just as much as Murr does.”
“I know, sweetie.” Her happiness makes me ache.
She pauses, and then whispers, “I think I want to stay here. Forever.”
