A/N: This is for Professor Flitwick's Daily Challenge. The prompt was fear. Hope you enjoy. You can read all about the dragons of North America at http://northamericandragonpreserve(dot)webs(dot)com/ --Rita (Link's on my profile page if you need it that way)
Fear
He could hear his heart pounding in his chest; surprised that the desert floor didn't resound from hammering. Bile rose in his throat. Fear. He'd never felt the emotion so intense before and he'd been in tighter places than this. His skin was cold and clammy and heightened senses made him one beat away from flight or fight. If he hadn't been paralyzed with the fear and a broken leg, he was sure he would have fought. He laughed silently to himself, yeah, right.
I swear to God, if I make it out of here, I promise I will…he laughed to himself again. "Come on, Weasley, don't lie to God," he said, a shaky hand wiping the sweat from his brow.
The desert floor echoed with the sound of an earth-shattering screech. The noise seemed to be everywhere; in the rocks, brush and echoing off the canyon. It was out there and it was hunting him.
Charlie Weasley's broom lay less than 100 yards from him and it would take more than the "Accio" charm to get it. His wand was broken in half, snapped in two when he fell out of the sky as the enormous beast attacked him.
He had been flying around the north rim, totally routine when the Flying Demon, came out of nowhere and flew right into him, hitting him squarely in the back. Charlie was knocked off his broom and landed on some scrub brush, fortunately breaking his fall, but unfortunately snapping his wand in two. Dazed, Charlie scrambled up as the heard the beast land. He had landed on his feet, and as he took a step toward a small cave, he heard the sickening crunch of bone shattering. He managed to make it to the opening of the cave, and he dragged himself inside. The good news was that the Flying Demon's eyesight wasn't very good, but the bad news was his sense of smell was and they were extremely persistent when it came to prey.
It took several minutes before his breathing slowed enough to think rationally. His best bet was to stay where he was and pray the dragon would give up. His adrenalin was too high to feel any pain right now, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the feeling would return. He needed not to pass out at this moment, but he wasn't sure he could. The desert around him went out of focus and everything was beginning to get black.
"No, dammit," he said to himself. "Stay alert. It's still out there." He knew that if he lost consciousness, the dragon would find him and devour him. "I really don't want to go out this way."
As he struggled to stay awake, his first thought was his mum. She didn't want him to move to America in the first place. She was none too excited when he told her he had been accepted as an intern at the North American Dragon Preserve. He was supposed to stay there four years, learning all about North American dragons and magical creatures. He had already fallen in love with the place after two weeks and had no idea how he was going to tell him family he was going to stay. They expected him to return to Romania where at least he was closer.
He chuckled when he thought about his mum killing him if he got hurt in America. She would, too, he thought.
The beast screeched again, closer this time, so Charlie pulled himself deeper in the cave. He only hoped it wasn't occupied by one of the other North American dragons, the American Red. They weren't as vicious, but nesting females would make the Flying Demon look domesticated. The cave was too small to house a dragon as big and a Red, so for the first time, Charlie felt a little safer. The problem was, once the Flying Demon picked up his scent, it would claw the cave, pull him out and tear him to little bitty pieces.
He checked to see if he was bleeding anywhere; that would alert the dragon quicker, but he wasn't that he could tell. Relax, he told himself. He'd wait it out.
His partner, Mike Hendershot, was investigating a muggle car that had driven on to the dragon preserve. It was only a drunk that Mike just had to confund and send on his merry, drunken way; he didn't need Charlie, so he continued his sweep of the rim.
Mike would be looking for him, he thought. With a sigh of relief, he listened for any sign of a gunshot. Mike carried a shot gun with him on patrol; not for any really for protection against the dragons; they had powerful stunning spelling for that. Mike knew that a muggle had more respect for firearms than him waving a little stick in the air.
Mike would come for him; probably chide him for letting the Flying Demon surprise him like that. It was just like the Order of the Phoenix back home: Forever vigilant. He always had to be alert and aware. Dragons and other magical creatures didn't understand that the keepers were there to protect them from muggles and other dangers from the unforgiving desert.
It seemed like forever, but it couldn't have been more than an hour when he heard the familiar swooshing sound and crack as Mike's wand stunned the dragon. It had found the cave and was digging its way in.
"Hey, Charlie," Mike's voice called out. "You in there?"
Relieved almost to the point of tears, Charlie called back. "I'm here."
"Well, get your ass out here, I ain't coming in after you."
Charlie laughed as he pulled himself out. "I broke my wand. That's why I didn't…"
"Sure, kid," he said, helping him out.
Once he was out, Mike fixed his broken leg and handed him his broom. "Think you can make it back?" he asked.
Charlie nodded. "Yeah, and thanks, mate."
"No sweat. Did you see that dragon? It was pretty sore at you. Well, now you've got a story to tell. I'm glad she didn't eat you. It's hard training new partners." Mike slapped him on his back and together they flew back to the preserve.
"Do me a favor, mate," Charlie said. "Please don't tell my mum."
