How to Drive a Dragon Crazy
Page 99
“Not a word. To anyone. Promise.”
“And does he promise?”
Izzy blinked. “You want the dog to promise?”
“You say he’s a dog. I don’t know what he is.”
“He’s a dog!”
“Promise!”
Because she knew Éibhear wouldn’t let this go, she tapped Macsen on his right side so that he barked. Once. It was something she’d taught him long ago for amusement. Who knew it would actually come in handy at some point?
“Thank you,” Éibhear muttered.
“You just thanked a dog.”
“So you say!” he accused.
Deciding this wasn’t the time to attempt to rationalize with a dragon, Izzy kept silent—for once—petted her dog, and enjoyed flying.
Chapter 31
Just before the two suns rose, Éibhear caught sight of a cave. It was half out and half buried in the sand near a dune. It seemed like the perfect place, especially since he didn’t know if they’d find another one before the suns were high in the sky.
He landed right outside the cave, lowering his body so Izzy could slip off and take that stupid dog with her.
“Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll check out the cave, make sure it’s safe.”
She didn’t reply and he didn’t wait for her to. She’d been completely uncommunicative since they’d left Heru’s court and Éibhear doubted that would change in the span of a few hours.
He made his way into the cave, worried it was as small as it seemed from the outside. But, thankfully, it was more of an underground cave and moving down a bit, he found some roomy caverns that would be perfect to sleep the day in. He was about to set off to explore a little more when he realized that Izzy was behind him, holding a lit torch.
“I thought I told you to wait.”
Izzy gave a light, carefree laugh. “I simply adore how you think I’d take your orders at any time or for any reason in this known universe. That just amuses me so much. Such a sense of humor you’ve gotten.”
“You couldn’t have simply said, ‘I don’t take orders from you.’”
“I could have.”
Sighing, Éibhear headed off in one direction and Izzy the other with her sword out. After about fifteen minutes, they met up back in the cavern.
“All clear,” she said, dropping her travel pack and stretching out her shoulders. “Not even a rat.”
“If dragons use these to rest in, vermin of any kind would be foolish to stay here. For some of us, rats are like little warm treats.”
“For some, but not for you?”
He couldn’t help but pull back his lips over his fangs. “No. There are some things I simply will not eat.”
Izzy got out her bedroll, spread it out on the ground, and sat down. She dug into her travel bag and took out some dried beef and her canteen of water.
Éibhear shifted to human and followed her example by pulling out his bedroll and spreading it out. By the time he sat down on it, he got a view of Izzy sharing her food with that damn dog.
“You’re giving him your dried beef?”
“I made sure to bring enough for him. Don’t worry. He’s my dog, I’ll take care of him.”
“We should have left him behind.”
“Oh, yes, I should leave my precious dog alone with strange dragons who still eat dog. Brilliant plan.” She looked up, frowned. “Why am I staring at your penis?”
“Because it mesmerizes you?”
“Can’t you put on leggings?”
“I could.” Then he smiled, which just seemed to piss her off more.
Her lip curled a bit, but she went back to feeding that damn dog rather than yelling at him.
Éibhear took out some of his own food and ate while he watched Izzy. She pretended to ignore him, but he didn’t buy it. Not anymore.
“How long have you had him?” he finally asked her about that damn dog.
“Three years now.”
“Do you ever bathe him?”
“Whenever I bathe in a lake or river, he bathes. He loves the water.”
“And yet he never seems very clean.”
“He loves the water, but he also loves mud, blood, shit, cow urine—”
“Wait. Specifically cow urine?”
“Don’t ask me why. It’s just a thing he has.”
“And you really don’t think he’s been spit up from the underworld?”
“No, I do not.”
“Because I’ve never seen this breed of dog before.”
“That’s meaningless. The world is filled with things neither of us have seen. Besides”—she lifted the dog’s head—“how can you look in these eyes and think anything about my Macsen is evil?”
“Because his one good eye is red?”
“What?” She lifted his head more so she could look at the dog without moving. “Oh. That. That’s just the reflection of the light from the torch.”
“If you need to believe that to get through the night.”
“I can’t believe you’re afraid of a little dog.”
“He’s not little and I’m not afraid. I just find him vile. Like rats. I find them vile too.”
“But rats aren’t loyal and they carry disease.”
“You have no way of knowing if that dog carries disease or not.”
“And does he promise?”
Izzy blinked. “You want the dog to promise?”
“You say he’s a dog. I don’t know what he is.”
“He’s a dog!”
“Promise!”
Because she knew Éibhear wouldn’t let this go, she tapped Macsen on his right side so that he barked. Once. It was something she’d taught him long ago for amusement. Who knew it would actually come in handy at some point?
“Thank you,” Éibhear muttered.
“You just thanked a dog.”
“So you say!” he accused.
Deciding this wasn’t the time to attempt to rationalize with a dragon, Izzy kept silent—for once—petted her dog, and enjoyed flying.
Chapter 31
Just before the two suns rose, Éibhear caught sight of a cave. It was half out and half buried in the sand near a dune. It seemed like the perfect place, especially since he didn’t know if they’d find another one before the suns were high in the sky.
He landed right outside the cave, lowering his body so Izzy could slip off and take that stupid dog with her.
“Wait here,” he told her. “I’ll check out the cave, make sure it’s safe.”
She didn’t reply and he didn’t wait for her to. She’d been completely uncommunicative since they’d left Heru’s court and Éibhear doubted that would change in the span of a few hours.
He made his way into the cave, worried it was as small as it seemed from the outside. But, thankfully, it was more of an underground cave and moving down a bit, he found some roomy caverns that would be perfect to sleep the day in. He was about to set off to explore a little more when he realized that Izzy was behind him, holding a lit torch.
“I thought I told you to wait.”
Izzy gave a light, carefree laugh. “I simply adore how you think I’d take your orders at any time or for any reason in this known universe. That just amuses me so much. Such a sense of humor you’ve gotten.”
“You couldn’t have simply said, ‘I don’t take orders from you.’”
“I could have.”
Sighing, Éibhear headed off in one direction and Izzy the other with her sword out. After about fifteen minutes, they met up back in the cavern.
“All clear,” she said, dropping her travel pack and stretching out her shoulders. “Not even a rat.”
“If dragons use these to rest in, vermin of any kind would be foolish to stay here. For some of us, rats are like little warm treats.”
“For some, but not for you?”
He couldn’t help but pull back his lips over his fangs. “No. There are some things I simply will not eat.”
Izzy got out her bedroll, spread it out on the ground, and sat down. She dug into her travel bag and took out some dried beef and her canteen of water.
Éibhear shifted to human and followed her example by pulling out his bedroll and spreading it out. By the time he sat down on it, he got a view of Izzy sharing her food with that damn dog.
“You’re giving him your dried beef?”
“I made sure to bring enough for him. Don’t worry. He’s my dog, I’ll take care of him.”
“We should have left him behind.”
“Oh, yes, I should leave my precious dog alone with strange dragons who still eat dog. Brilliant plan.” She looked up, frowned. “Why am I staring at your penis?”
“Because it mesmerizes you?”
“Can’t you put on leggings?”
“I could.” Then he smiled, which just seemed to piss her off more.
Her lip curled a bit, but she went back to feeding that damn dog rather than yelling at him.
Éibhear took out some of his own food and ate while he watched Izzy. She pretended to ignore him, but he didn’t buy it. Not anymore.
“How long have you had him?” he finally asked her about that damn dog.
“Three years now.”
“Do you ever bathe him?”
“Whenever I bathe in a lake or river, he bathes. He loves the water.”
“And yet he never seems very clean.”
“He loves the water, but he also loves mud, blood, shit, cow urine—”
“Wait. Specifically cow urine?”
“Don’t ask me why. It’s just a thing he has.”
“And you really don’t think he’s been spit up from the underworld?”
“No, I do not.”
“Because I’ve never seen this breed of dog before.”
“That’s meaningless. The world is filled with things neither of us have seen. Besides”—she lifted the dog’s head—“how can you look in these eyes and think anything about my Macsen is evil?”
“Because his one good eye is red?”
“What?” She lifted his head more so she could look at the dog without moving. “Oh. That. That’s just the reflection of the light from the torch.”
“If you need to believe that to get through the night.”
“I can’t believe you’re afraid of a little dog.”
“He’s not little and I’m not afraid. I just find him vile. Like rats. I find them vile too.”
“But rats aren’t loyal and they carry disease.”
“You have no way of knowing if that dog carries disease or not.”
