He wiggles his hand and points at it, then at me.
“Hand,” I say, lifting mine and doing the same wiggle.
“Haaan,” he agrees, and then recites all the other words he’s learned so far from me. I’m impressed. His pronunciation continues to be shit but his memory is excellent. He holds his forefinger out. “Haan?”
“Finger.”
“Tiiinger.” He holds out his middle finger and it looks like he’s flipping me the bird.
I snort with amusement at that. “Still a finger.”
He touches his middle finger and eyes me curiously. “Tiiinger…ha ha?” He cocks his head as we walk, the curious expression on his face. “Ha ha?”
I shake my head, still smiling at the inside joke that I can’t possibly explain to him. “We don’t have the words for that yet.”
And then I slow down as I push the cart, eyeing him speculatively. Maybe there’s nothing sinister about his interest.Maybe he’s just trying to learn human language so he can communicate with people? But if so…why? Dragons haven’t had any interest in talking to people for years on end.
Does it have something to do with the healed rift in the sky? Or am I grasping at straws because the Rift was healed a few months ago and suddenly I’ve met a friendly dragon after ten years of them being apocalyptic destroyers? That can’t be complete coincidence.
“I’m glad you’re a fast learner,” I tell Murr as we continue walking. “Because I have so many questions.”
He points at his thumb and waits for a word, oblivious to my musings.
CHAPTER 15
DAKOTA
When I returnto the bookstore, Rabbit has a small fire going out front, a hint of smoke in the air. She’s got the spit going over the flames and gets to her feet when she sees me approach with the cart.
“Mom, I’m cooking the rest of it,” she announces. “It’s starting to smell a little funky and I don’t want it to go to waste. Plus, the moment I came out here, the cats went nuts. I’ve been feeding them bits while we were waiting. I hope that’s okay.”
Her happy expression tells me that she’s loving the interaction with the cats. How can I be mad that she’s feeding them when Murr was the one that fed us in the first place? “It’s okay. Thank you for doing the cooking, honey. We’ll worry about smoking stuff next time.”
Rabbit looks wary and just a little surprised. Her gaze flicks to Murr, who’s picking up one of his cats, then back to me. “Is there going to be a next time? I thought we’d be leaving because of him. Because it’s not safe.”
I bite my lip and consider this. Logic says that it’s smartest to run fast and run far, but logic also doesn’t have much to sayabout situations like the one we’re in. I consider Murr and how he’s been acting. Other than that first day when he thought we’d stolen his kitten, he’s been calm and friendly. I shot him in the arm with a crossbow bolt and he didn’t lash out at us. He fed us, instead. He follows me and wants to know the words for things. “We’re not leaving just yet,” I say. “We don’t know how he’ll react if we try to leave. He’s clearly been collecting cats, so maybe he thinks we’re just a few more strays to feed.”
“I’m all right with that,” Rabbit says, and gives a little bounce in excitement. “That meat was so good I’m drooling for more.”
“I think he’s trying to learn English,” I admit. “He’s asked me a ton of questions.”
“Aww! That’s so sweet.”
I feel as if I’m a bad mom, though. Like I’m somehow not being stern enough about a random dragon-man showing up and taking over our encampment. “If you ever feel unsafe around him, though, I want you to tell me, okay? You’re my priority. I don’t care how nice he is to me if he scares you. Understand?”
“You could tell him to wear pants. I have a hard time looking him in the eye,” Rabbit says, and then giggles wildly when Murr jogs up. “Ohmigod, Mom, his dick is bouncing everywhere!”
I blush, too, because it really is. “We’ll get there, okay? Try and be patient for a little while longer.”
Murr, oblivious to our conversation, holds a cat up to me. “Eye? Dakotah, eye?”
I force myself to concentrate on the little calico being held up in front of my face and not the jiggling dong that distracts the eye. Because wow, it really IS distracting. I notice the cat is a younger one, eyes glued shut with yellow gunk. It meows, squirming in his grip.
Okay, this is good. He trusts me to help, and he remembers from before. “Heat some water, Rabbit. I’m going to get a T-shirt. Be right back.”
I gesture to Murr that I’ll help, but he needs to wait. Racing inside the bookstore, I grab my oldest shirt, because it’s also the softest. When the water is warm, I wet a corner of the shirt and instruct (with motions) for Murr to hold the cat still. I gently wipe its eyes clean, even though the cat cries in protest. Tomorrow we’ll try the cream, but I want to read up on it first.
Murr examines the cat and is pleased by the results. He showers it with affection, holding it close and stroking the triangular ears before setting it down.
