The firelight dwindled as the group retreated to their makeshift beds, the forest blanketed in the quiet of night. Renard knelt beside Lyra's small sleeping mat, his usual guarded expression softened. Her red hood had been placed neatly to one side, revealing her peaceful face, framed by a cascade of coppery hair. The faint rise and fall of her chest was the only sound in the stillness.
Renard reached out, adjusting the blanket draped over her shoulders. His fingers lingered for a moment, almost hesitant, as if afraid that the delicate figure before him might vanish. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, a rare and fleeting expression.
"You're stronger than you look," he murmured quietly, his voice barely audible. "But even strong ones need rest."
His golden eyes flickered with something rare—tenderness. He stayed a moment longer, watching the even rhythm of her breaths, before standing and walking toward his own sleeping spot.
Anna sat away from the warmth of the dying fire, huddled under the meager cover of her cloak. Her mat was thinner than the others, and the cool forest air bit through its fabric. She curled into herself, shivering, her hands clasped tightly to keep warm.
As she shifted slightly to get comfortable, a sharp sting lanced through her side. Lifting her shirt slightly, she saw faint red streaks—new flesh wounds appearing, as if in mockery of her struggle. They weren't deep, but they were enough to sap her strength.
Oddly, the biting cold made the pain feel distant, almost numbing it. She pulled the cloak tighter and lay down, her body trembling. Her gaze drifted upward to the stars scattered across the dark sky. She closed her eyes, her breath puffing out in faint, misty clouds, and finally drifted into a restless sleep.
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Morning came, the air crisp and heavy with the dew of the forest. The group gathered their belongings, Renard ensuring Lyra was comfortable for the next leg of their journey. The comrades joked lightly, their voices warm and cheerful, and Lyra's laughter joined theirs like sunlight piercing the cool morning haze.
Anna, carrying the bulky backpack laden with provisions, trailed behind. The weight seemed heavier today, pressing down on her sore shoulders.
Day One
The forest canopy grew denser as they traveled deeper. Streams of sunlight broke through, dappling the ground in patches of gold. The path twisted and turned, sometimes narrowing to the point where they had to move single file.
"Anna, water," Renard called without turning around, gesturing behind him.
Anna stopped, shifted the heavy bag off her shoulders, and retrieved a flask. Her hands shook slightly as she passed it forward. Each comrade took a drink, and when it reached Lyra, she gave a grateful smile. "Thank you, Anna," Lyra said gently.
Anna nodded silently, her throat dry. When the flask returned to her, there was barely a sip left. She drank it quickly, not wanting to seem ungrateful.
Day Two
The terrain became rougher, the path speckled with loose stones and uneven footing. Lyra tripped at one point, and Renard was instantly at her side, steadying her with a firm hand.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice unusually gentle.
"Fine," Lyra replied, brushing dirt off her tunic. "Thanks, Renard."
Anna watched the exchange from a distance, her lips pressing into a thin line as she adjusted the straps of the backpack. The weight seemed to dig into her shoulders, every step a grinding ache.
Day Three
By the third day, the landscape changed dramatically. The dense forest gave way to rocky foothills, and in the distance, the jagged peaks of the dragon's mountain range pierced the sky. The final stretch of the journey was uphill, a winding trail that grew steeper with every step.
The air thinned as they climbed, and the weight of Anna's backpack felt unbearable. She stumbled more than once but quickly caught herself, keeping her pace steady behind the group.
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The air grew heavy, charged with a strange energy that made every step feel deliberate. A deep rumble echoed through the mountains, vibrating through the earth beneath their feet. A shadow swept over them, and a gust of wind stirred the loose stones on the trail.
From above, a massive silver dragon descended, its wings spreading wide as it landed with the grace of an ancient predator. Its scales shimmered like molten metal in the fading sunlight, and its eyes—piercing orbs of glowing sapphire—seemed to pierce through the soul of anyone who met its gaze.
The dragon lowered its great head, the ground trembling as its claws dug into the rocky terrain. Then, its voice echoed in their minds, deep and resonant, like thunder rolling through a distant valley.
"Who dares to tread upon the sacred path of the Dragons' Domain?"
Renard stepped forward, his stance steady though there was a flicker of unease in his golden eyes. "We come with great reverence, mighty one. I am Renard, leader of the Southern Ridge pack. With me are my comrades, and this—" he gestured toward Lyra, who stood at his side, "—is Lyra, the Red Savior."
The dragon's piercing gaze shifted to Lyra. A rumbling sound, almost like a growl, reverberated in the air. "Lyra..." The name rolled off the dragon's tongue with a strange mixture of awe and recognition. "The child foretold in the ancient tales. The healer who would bring balance to the lands of beasts and men."
Lyra swallowed hard, taking a tentative step forward. Her voice trembled slightly, but she stood firm. "It's an honor to meet you. I... I didn't know the dragons were waiting for me."
The dragon's head lowered until its glowing eyes were level with hers. "Not all legends are known to the living, child. Some truths are kept hidden until the time is right. But you are here now, as we always knew you would be."
The dragon's voice turned softer, almost wistful. "Long have we guarded this mountain, awaiting the one who could heal not just wounds of the flesh, but wounds of the soul. You carry that gift, child, though it burdens you greatly."
Lyra's brows knit together. "I... I don't know if I'm strong enough for what you say."
Renard interjected, his voice firm. "You are, Lyra. Even the Alphas see it in you. You've already begun to fulfill the stories."
The dragon's gaze flicked to Renard briefly, acknowledging his words before returning to Lyra. "Your humility speaks well of you, child. It is not strength alone that defines greatness, but the courage to bear the burdens others cannot."
One of Renard's comrades, a burly wolf named Alric, spoke up. "She's already done so much. It's like she carries the weight of everyone she meets."
The dragon inclined its head slightly. "As it was meant to be. Her heart is vast, her spirit resilient. Such qualities are rare, even among the ancients."
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Anna stood apart from the group, her arms wrapped around herself against the chill wind that swept through the mountain pass. Though the dragon's mouth moved, its voice did not reach her. She could see Renard, Lyra, and the others responding, their faces shifting between awe and warmth as the conversation deepened.
Fragments of their words reached her ears, disjointed and incomplete. She caught phrases like "burdens others cannot" and "her heart is vast," but the meaning was lost, like trying to piece together a melody from scattered notes.
Her fingers tightened on the straps of her backpack, and she bit her lip. She wanted to ask what was being said, but the weight of the dragon's presence and the exclusion wrapped around her like a suffocating fog.
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The dragon's head lifted slightly, its glowing eyes narrowing as they turned toward Anna. Its presence seemed to grow heavier, the air pressing down on her chest. When it finally spoke, its voice was sharp, cold, and unmistakable.
"But that one..." The dragon's gaze bore into Anna, and the heat of its disdain was almost palpable. "She does not belong here."
Renard's expression hardened slightly, but he gave a curt nod. "She carries supplies and helps us. That's all."
"She is no healer. No savior. There is a shadow in her that we do not trust."
Anna's breath hitched. She stepped back instinctively, her foot catching on a loose stone. She steadied herself but said nothing, her throat tightening.
The dragon's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before it turned back to Lyra. Its voice softened again, warm and reverent. "Climb onto my back, child. You will not walk the rest of this journey."
Renard turned to Anna, his voice devoid of the warmth he used when speaking to Lyra. "The dragon doesn't trust you, Anna. You'll have to climb the mountain on your own."
Anna opened her mouth as if to protest, but the words caught in her throat. She glanced at the heavy backpack weighing on her shoulders and hesitated. A flicker of hope lit in her eyes as she considered asking them to carry the supplies, but she quickly dismissed the thought.
She nodded silently, lowering her head.
Lyra hesitated, looking between Anna and Renard. "Are you sure? She's been helping us all this way..."
The dragon rumbled softly, its voice calm but firm. "Trust is not so easily earned, even for those who serve."
Renard placed a hand on Lyra's shoulder. "She'll be fine. We'll see her at the summit."
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The dragon lowered itself, folding its massive wings as it offered its back to Lyra. Its scales shimmered with a soft glow as it waited patiently for her to climb on. Renard helped her up, his movements unusually careful.
"Easy," he murmured, steadying her.
Once she was settled, the comrades followed, their laughter and banter light as they clambered up onto the dragon's broad back.
The dragon rose with a powerful beat of its wings, the gust nearly knocking Anna off her feet again. She shielded her face with her arm, watching as the great beast ascended into the sky, carrying the group higher and higher until they disappeared into the clouds.
The trail stretched upward, a jagged path of rocks and loose dirt that seemed endless. Anna tightened the straps of her backpack, adjusted its weight, and began to climb.
Her breaths came hard and fast, her legs trembling with each step. The chill wind bit at her skin, and the pack dug into her shoulders with every movement.
Looking up at the mountain peak, she saw no sign of the dragon or her companions. She was utterly alone, her footsteps echoing faintly in the vast emptiness of the mountains.