The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1) by Dan Michaelson (miss read books .txt) 📗

I stumbled forward, being careful with how I stepped. Another burst of lightning came. With this one, I was certain I saw it. Joran’s home. It was a nice house, all one level, and built sturdy enough to withstand the storms that came through. He didn’t have a barn like we did, but he did have a cave dug out from a small hillside. That was where his family kept their livestock. As I staggered forward, it didn’t seem as if there were any lights glowing in the windows. Could they have gone somewhere?

The wind sent me tumbling forward again, stumbling into another puddle. It was deeper than the last. As I got to my feet, I felt water creeping up to my shin.

The rain didn’t abate. It was coming down faster than before. I staggered through the water trying to ignore it w hen, finally, the house loomed into view.

It wasn’t that far from me now.

Lightning exploded, blinding my vision. It took a moment for that to clear, and when it did, I hurried. The wind pushed against me, almost as if it was trying to keep me away from Joran’s house. The rain soaked me, drenching me in a way that felt incredibly uncomfortable, almost miserable.

I staggered. With each step, it felt as if my foot sunk deeper into the ground.

I finally reached the house. I banged on the door. Thunder and lightning rumbled around me. The door opened, and Joran stood there with a long knife in hand, frowning at me.

“Ashan? What are you doing out here?”

I staggered forward, unmindful of how I drenched the floor and waited until Joran closed the door behind me. “I thought I would visit.”

As I sunk to the ground, exhaustion overtook me.

5

The fire crackled with heat. I shivered despite it. I’d been sitting in front of the fire for the better part of the last hour, and was only now beginning to warm up. I couldn’t believe how quickly I had gotten cold. Joran sat near the window on a small bench, staring at it. Heavy shutters kept the worst of the storm from shattering the glass, but a small crack still allowed me to see outside. Every so often, when the lightning flashed, I could make out the depths of the storm and the darkness of the clouds. It didn’t seem as if the storm had eased yet.

Tara, Joran’s younger sister, brought in a basket of bread, and handedit over to me.

I looked up at her, smiling. “Thank you.”

She had a round face, full lips, and shared Joran’s lanky hair. She just chuckled. “What were you doing out in the storm?”

“Tara!” Joran said.

She shot him a look. “I figure he’s been here long enough, it’s about time that somebody asked him.”

Sophie, Joran’s youngest sister, poked her head out from the doorway leading back to the kitchen. “It’s my fault, Joran. I told her to ask.”

“You don’t think I came out just because I wanted to see you?” I said, glancing over to Sophie.

She stuck her tongue out at me, and I shook my head, chuckling.

Sophie was eight, an age I scarcely remembered. It was difficult for me to remember when Alison had been that age, as well. I missed those days. Out here on the plains, most of us needed to grow up quickly, especially after my father and brother got sick. “I was hunting a wolf that slaughtered one of our pigs,” I said.

Joran looked over, his gaze lingering on my bow for a moment before nodding. “It had to be something stupid like that,” he said. “Why so far?”

“I tracked it all the way to the edge of the forest,” I admitted. “I’d seen another one—much larger—the day before, and didn’t want a pack to think they could feast on our livestock.”

At least, I’d thought it was a wolf, but there had been that strange growl in the forest.

Dad claimed there were monsters in the forest.

I pushed that thought away. Those were his delusions.

“If the wolf went into the forest, then you didn’t need to keep hunting it,” Sophie said, stepping into the room. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and she looked at me with an expression that seemed older than it should. “That wolf wasn’t going to hurt you.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But if the wolf got a taste for an easy kill, then we would have to deal with it eventually.” My family had gone through that enough times that we had learned our lesson. If a wolf, or even a camin, though that was rare, decided they were going to hunt around the farm, they would be too dangerous to leave alone. “You know that, Sophie,” Joran said, smiling at her.

“I know no such thing, Joran.”

“What do you think we had to do when your favorite chicken was killed?”

“I thought you called that lunch,” I said, smirking.

Joran shot me a look. “We had a wolf that came through here about six months ago. Pops and I hunted that bastard until we brought him down. We had to get three of them before we got the right one.”

“How do you know you got the right one?” she asked.

“I guess I don’t. I’m hopeful that killing a few off would make them think twice about eating our chickens. Which means it’s time to keep hunting,” Joran said.

She glared at him before turning her attention to me. “Don’t you know that when a storm comes you need to get to shelter?”

“He knows,” Tara said, trying to take Sophie by the shoulders to guide her away. She would have none of it, though. She shot her sister a look and twisted away to loosen her sister’s grip. “Even Joran isn’t stupid enough to get caught out in a storm like this.”

“I probably shouldn’t have,” I said. “But when I got to the forest, I could’ve sworn I saw something.”

“The same thing you saw the other day?” Joran asked.

I didn’t