Aftermath of the Storm...
The storm which had started at about noon the last time they could see the sky, slowly lost its momentum, revealing the early greys of the morning sky.
The wind began to die down, the shrill wails of the storm softening into the occasional gust that kicked up loose grains of sand. Yara noticed the subtle shift before the dragon moved. His grip around her waist loosened, but he didn't pull away entirely. The silence, heavy and thick, settled around them, broken only by their breathing and the soft chirp from the egg in her pack.
Yara slowly uncurled her fingers from where they had clung to the dragon's shirt, embarrassment flushing her cheeks as she realized just how tightly she had held on. She straightened, awkwardly shifting in his grasp. "Looks like it's over," she murmured, her voice still hoarse from the tension.