Nothing happens.
I grit my teeth and keep going.
The spindle splits. The board jumps. My palm skids and I hiss a curse.
Again.
I reset it and force myself to slow down.
Pressure. Rhythm. Heat.
That’s all this is.
Sweat beads at the back of my neck despite the cold. My arms shake. Smoke finally curls up from the notch in the wood and my pulse leaps so hard it nearly throws off my rhythm.
“Don’t you dare die on me now,” I mutter.
A tiny pile of black dust gathers. One faint orange glow appears at its center.
My breath catches.
Carefully, I tip the ember into the rest of the dry grass and bark. I put it between my hands and breathe into it. Slow and steady.
For one terrible second, I think it’s gone.
But the tinder catches with a softwhoomph. Flames lick upward. Relief hits me so sharply my knees almost give.
Once the flames are steady, I find a green branch, sharpen one end, and spit the rabbit over the fire.
Grease hisses into the flames.
The smell is enough to make my mouth water.
I crouch there and turn it slowly, watching the meat darken. My hands are raw. There’s dried blood under my nails. Smoke clings to my clothes and hair.
There’s nothing honorable or powerful about me right now.
I’ve never looked less like the Ezkai General.
A short, humorless laugh escapes me.
If Vera could see me now…
The thought dissolves as quickly as it comes.
Vera.
Kazh.
Noire.
Jax.
All relying on me finding and bonding the dragon.
The dragon’s rejection rises up inside me all over again. This time it feels…heavier.
I stare into the fire and think of Jax without meaning to.
