12. Practice
"Since our arrival in Ilirea a couple of days ago, I have been contemplating a few potential scenarios for this fight," Willow began. "I've always wondered why you never tried to smash me into a tree or break my arms or elbows with a crushing blow. It seems that would have worked to get me off your back. If I was expected to fight someone else, what if one of them thought to use such a tactic? I'm not sure I would still prevail."
Varhog appeared worried as he contemplated her question. "On the Isle, there weren't trees around in the training fields to have used, but it is potentially one way they will attempt to dislodge you. Trees are plentiful in my village. You could try lowering your legs just enough right at the last moment that your knees would be over their kidneys. If they strike into the tree and you brace yourself against it with the flat part of your feet, the force of the blow would drive your knees into them, possibly bringing about their defeat even faster.
"You have to remember that with the lack of air and blood flow, the strength of my muscles quickly diminishes, often in less than a minute. The increase in panic as my survival instinct takes over makes me desperate, but in all our previous fights, I have always known you would quickly release me once I fell to my knees. That same desperation in a Kull, however, would make him deadlier than ever. I'm not sure what I will do as unconsciousness threatens. If I or another tried to break your arms, which could truly happen, I don't know what to say. I have never done it before because, for one, in my determination not to hurt you, it never occurred to me. But I can't appear to show you any mercy. Additionally, I can't get my hands around your arms to crush them by squeezing, and a blow in the direction of my own throat seems unwise. It could do as much damage to me as to you. I want to help you prepare for every eventuality, but I'm not sure how, seeing that there could be many instinctive things I would try that I can't think of in my current state of mind."
"Which is exactly the purpose of this practice session," Willow firmly said. "To help me prepare so I can triumph. Tell me what the usual customs are. You mentioned that you would fight more like an Urgal than you ever before have."
Varhog filled his lungs and threw back his head, bellowing as loudly as he could until all the air was gone. The birds in the trees around them shrieked and took flight. Willow jumped in surprise then laughed, just as she predicted she would. When he was done, Varhog lowered his head in preparation to ram her, and she realized he was going to demonstrate what she should expect rather than explain.
Willow immediately cleared her mind and entered the emotionless mental state especially reserved for fighting. It was good she had practiced it so often and could assume it so quickly, for Varhog gave her no time to waste. She easily sidestepped his charge and spun about to face him, ducking as he swung an arm after her.
Varhog then instructed, "If you must fight me, do not delay. As soon as you can, jump on my back and bring me down. You must preserve your energy in case you face another opponent."
As directed, the next time Varhog lunged for her, Willow waited until the last possible instance before dodging with a twist and leaping on his back. She knew this was the critical moment. If she didn't get her arms immediately stacked on top of each other and cinched around his neck, Varhog would yank them free.
In expertly executed movements—thanks to her endless practice—Willow swiftly wrapped her arms all the way around his neck and tucked them into her armpits by twisting her wrists. She lowered her head to protect it and pulled her legs underneath her body, pushing with them against his back to increase the force of her grip.
Varhog roared in frustration, which was unwise because he couldn't refill his lungs. He reached for her, but his muscled arms and shoulders prevented him from grasping her on his wide back. In her mind he weakly said, Keep holding on . . . until I pass out. We need . . . to see . . . what I do.
Willow focused her energy on the flame of his consciousness, not feeling alarmed as it flickered, as distant as she was from her emotions. Varhog fell to his knees, which was when she usually let go, but she obeyed him by maintaining and tightening her grip. His consciousness grew dimmer.
Varhog instinctively shuddered and began to convulse, rolling his shoulders in a desperate effort to remove her. He fell to his hands, rolling to the ground on his back and pinning her underneath him in his final attempt to loosen her stranglehold.
The air rushed out of Willow's lungs as his immense bulk flattened her, but she didn't panic. It helped some that her legs were between her chest and his back. She could sense how close Varhog was to going unconscious and was still able to maintain her grip, so she did. Three seconds later, his mind went black and she instantly removed her arms. Using magic to increase her strength, she wriggled out from under him and knelt by his side.
Willow wasn't sure what she should do or how long it would take Varhog to regain consciousness. She placed her hand on his forehead, worrying for him now that she was no longer in her fighting mind. That was the fastest she had ever bested him. It seemed impossible to her that it had almost been easy. How could she best an enormous, powerful Urgal ram? It was so ridiculous that she laughed quietly.
Varhog had often told her that very things she perceived as weaknesses actually gave her the advantage, namely her thin frame and comparatively puny strength. Since his back was twice as broad as her body and his arms as thick with muscles as a slender tree trunk, he simply didn't have the physical ability to reach the middle of his back where she curled. And her arms were just thin enough that she could fit them neatly under his chin on top of each other. Eragon and Murtagh couldn't do that. They always had to put one in front of the other and no matter how tightly they tried to hold, Varhog could get his fingers around and pull the front one free to yank them from his back. Her human brothers had suffered many a dislocated shoulder or broken arm as a result. It was also more difficult for them to tuck their legs up since they were broader and more muscular, so Varhog could often reach one of their legs to pull.
And yet it was still so unlikely that Willow laughed again, thinking back over the fight as she knelt next to Varhog. At the end, he had pinned her, which had never before happened. He had been so close to unconsciousness that it hadn't mattered, but if he had done it earlier, it might have been enough to weaken her from breathlessness. And if there had been a rock under her or he had bashed her against the ground a few times, he could have broken many of her bones, which thought made her shudder.
Willow tried to imagine being expected to fight again right after. She felt sure she could take down another Urgal ram, especially since, as Varhog had said, the next opponent wouldn't have any Rider abilities and wouldn't know she could anticipate his moves as he made them.
But the thought of facing a Kull filled her with slightly more apprehension. The biggest problem would simply be reaching his back. Willow knew from Grintuk that male Kull were almost never under eight feet tall, which would make even the shortest Kull at least two feet taller than herself. She would have to find something to jump from, but would he give her enough time? If she fought anyone after Varhog—if she even had to fight him—they would be prepared for her tactic and do all they could to keep her off their back.
Then there was the problem of a bigger head, stronger neck, and larger lungs. She would have to hold on longer and endure more savage attempts of being dislodged before she could hope to bring down a Kull. If her arms didn't fill the space between his chin and his collarbone, he would easily be able to remove them. But she supposed the even wider back and more powerfully muscled arms would make her perch between his shoulder blades all the safer, if she could get there. Was she really contemplating, in an objective manner, taking on a Kull?
You're ridiculous, Willow, she told herself, hoping it wouldn't come to that.
Varhog stirred then. He slowly sat up, raising his knees so he could rest his head on them.
"Are you all right, Yelloweyes?" Willow murmured.
Varhog grunted. "My head hurts but yes, I am."
"I'm sorry," she said and waited.
After a moment, Varhog lifted his head and turned toward her. "Don't be. You did well. That was fast. And humiliating, but I'm used to it." His smile looked more like a grimace, but she nonetheless returned it.
"I have been considering various possibilities while waiting for you to recover," Willow said. "When you pinned me, you were already so close to passing out that I was able to hold on, but if that had happened sooner, it might have been different. Most likely would have, actually. If someone saw you do that and got the idea in their head, they might use the tactic earlier on and break my ribs, back, or legs by crushing me against the ground."
Varhog surprised her by entering her mind and replaying the fight from his perspective. She was amazed by how strong her grip felt around his neck and by how quickly his body reacted to the lack of air and blood flow. She was dumbfounded by the immense brute force of his muscles but also by how quickly they weakened when denied vital nutrients.
"Do you see?" he insisted. "It happens so quickly. If you can just get on their back and assume your stranglehold, it will only be a matter of minutes, if that, and each one less powerful than the previous."
"Less powerful but more desperate, and therefore more dangerous," Willow pointed out. "Do you think this will really be expected of me, Varhog? Can we try letting them get to know me for a time to see if they'll accept me as you did? I will do this if it is required, but what if the cost is too high? What if I was crushed or killed while you were unconscious?"
"I wouldn't let it happen," Varhog growled. "I would tell Firesword, Arya, and Murtagh to interfere if it went that far. We will introduce you first and hope they come to accept you, but even if they did, you still cannot imagine their shock were I to then tell them that I plan to take you as my mate. No matter how much they like certain humans, they still would never think to let one of their most honored rams marry a human. It goes against too many prejudices that run too deep. And when you first defeated me was when my feelings began to deepen. That was the turning point, and it no doubt will be for any Urgralgra. It's too powerful for an Urgal to overlook. The rest of my kind would feel the same."
"Must we even tell them? Perhaps we can just make this a visit for you to see them again. Then we can leave and enter our union on the Isle or elsewhere."
"We can do that, Eartheyes, and I am willing to, but I would bring dishonor to my clan and they might never accept me again. Despite the fact that I am a Dragon Rider, they might turn their backs on the other races of Alagaёsia. The old enmity that, though lessening, is even now still so strong might spring up again fierce as ever. They might feel I had somehow been tricked. There are too many dark possibilities to even name them all."
"If you are so certain this will be their reaction, are you sure this is even a good idea? Us? As difficult as it would be, wouldn't it be better to remain friends and not cause such terrible problems as we may well cause? Or suppose I did defeat three opponents and they still don't find me worthy to be your mate. What then?"
Varhog regarded her as he thought about everything she had suggested. "There is not an easy answer," he finally said. "I don't know what to expect. We can remain friends, we need not go. Any of these things is possible. What I want is to have you as my mate and have their approval of it. But I don't need to have what I want if it's not the best way. I understand if this is too much to ask of you."
"No, Varhog," Willow quietly reassured. "I will do what is expected if it means I can be your wife. That's what I want too, so I suppose that leaves nothing for us to do but try."
They arose, and Varhog made as if to return to the dragons, but Willow grabbed his arm. "Varhog, I want you to try those other two possibilities I mentioned. Smashing me into a tree and breaking my arms. You can heal me if needed, but I need to know what to expect. Will you do this?"
Varhog hesitated as his desire to protect her warred with the sense of her words, a struggle she read in his eyes. "Very well, but I don't like it, Willow. Not at all."
They faced each other once again, and she jumped on his back even more quickly than before, right after his first charge. She assumed her stranglehold and before it could affect him, Varhog immediately struck a devastating blow against her arms. Her bones shattered, and Willow screamed in pain. But the force of the blow, which smashed her arms into his throat, also crushed his windpipe. Varhog collapsed on the spot, landing on his chest.
He jerked spasmodically, struggling in vain to fill his lungs. Willow didn't move because she couldn't with her broken arms pinned under his body, but since her hands were in the right general area, she muttered the words of healing in the ancient language, directing their energy toward Varhog's mangled throat. She squeezed her eyes shut to fight the tears while the energy required for the magic flowed out of her, leaving her even weaker.
As Varhog gulped in a great lungful of air, Willow lay still on his back. She somehow sensed his deep fear as he pulled one arm under himself and pushed himself up on it, supporting them both as he used the other hand to heal her arms. She whimpered in pain as the bones knit back together, but she resisted the urge to scream again.
When the job was done, Varhog slowly sat and pulled her around to cradle in his arms. Willow was trembling, and he gently held her, stroking his hand down her back over and over. They were both silent for a long while, each contemplating where they would be if not for magic. He would be dead, and she would be facing a slow, painful recovery that might never restore the full use of her arms.
When she could bear the silence no longer, Willow quietly said, "Now I know what to expect if that were to happen. What if a second foe tried it? Would I be allowed to heal my arms before facing a third? Would I be allowed to heal him so he wouldn't die?"
A great tremor ran through Varhog's body. "I . . ." he choked, "I'm so sorry, Willow. You have no idea how hard it was for me to do that." He wrapped his arms tightly around her as if somehow trying to make up for it by protecting her then. "It wasn't instinctive. I think my instinct to protect you is even stronger than my instinct for self-preservation, which is the main reason it wasn't natural to strike like that. But even if you were facing someone who didn't have the desire to protect you, he wouldn't feel to do that for fear of having the very same thing happen to him. A blow like that to the throat with nothing but a thin human arm for a barrier is enough to kill anyone, at least when struck by an Urgal ram and especially since it drove your arms into me. I don't think you will be likely to face that threat."
Willow nodded. "Very well. Let's practice the other scenario before we return."
Varhog made no move to rise or let her go when she attempted to stand. His arms were an inescapable prison. "I don't think I can," he whispered. "I can't hurt you again. And you are weakened from the magic."
"That's perfect because I would be tired if I had to face anyone else after you. Please, Varhog. You can heal me again if you need to."
"But your scream." Varhog shuddered. "I hurt you. I crushed your arms."
"Only because I asked you so you could help me," Willow tried to comfort. "And you healed the injury yourself."
"That doesn't make it any better. I can still hear your scream of pain echoing in my mind."
"Please, Yelloweyes," she whispered. "I need to be able to prove that I'm worthy to have you. If these things happened and I was defeated and could never be with you . . . I don't know what I would do. The emotional pain would overwhelm me. It would be so much worse than any physical pain, which is so fleeting thanks to our abilities with magic."
"But you are worthy to have me!" Varhog roared, making her jump. "I should have to prove myself worthy of you. I'm angry, so angry that my people have these customs that would put you in danger to satisfy the demands of some ridiculous tradition. That prejudice and misconceptions will blind them and keep them from seeing what an amazing person you are once they learn I want you as my mate. Hatred and bias will keep them from accepting you as you accepted me. It makes me so furious that I want to fight them all myself so I don't have to worry about you coming to harm . . ." He trailed off, unable to articulate any more of his thoughts.
Willow was silent, startled by the vehemence in his voice. She shifted enough that she could wrap her arms around him, laying her face against his neck, where she noticed how much harder his pulse was pounding than it had been in the courtyard, elevated as it was by his fury.
"This is what it will take for them to accept me, so it must be done. Do not be so hard on the ways of your race. Our union will assist our races in overcoming those prejudices and misconceptions. We must do this for each other and our peoples. Please help me ensure our success."
Varhog forced himself to breathe deeply to regain his composure. In a solemn voice he said, "I will do this one last thing, but never ask me to do something like this again, Willow." He paused before adding in a frightening tone, "And if any irreparable harm comes to you at the hand of any in my clan, they will answer to me and the ferocity of my revenge will be deadly."
He easily stood with her still in his arms and gently set her down. Then he backed up again to face her in the clearing, pulling off his shirt and tossing it to the side. He commanded in clipped tones, "Let your hair down. They will expect it. Having it up removes it as a weakness, which is unacceptable." He removed his boots, pants, and socks until he was in only his undergarments, which were just as he had described on the Isle—a short pair of shorts.
Willow had already assumed her emotionless fighting mind, so she indifferently observed Varhog unclothing himself, waiting expectantly for him to explain.
"We fight such contests in only a loin cloth, though the same will not be expected of you, just as it never is when female Urgals fight. Use your movements and dodges to keep me away from the trees so you will have time to weaken me as I try to reach one. Use the same tactic in the village, if it comes to that. This could kill you, Willow." Another great tremor ran through his body, but he released his pent up emotions in a roar louder and more terrifying than his first.
When he was done, he gave his last warning, "I'm going to open my mind to you once you are on my back so you will be more aware of what I'm going through and how long it takes for me to lose consciousness. Hold on again until I pass out." He had been circling, and she mirrored each of his steps to keep them the same distance apart.
At his first instruction, Willow had reached up and removed the pins that held her hair, tossing them aside with her focus always on him. While he yet spoke, she moved to a more central position in between the trees, preparing herself mentally for what she thought she would need to do to counter the tactic of being slammed into a tree. At the same time, she realized that having Varhog thus unclothed would help her even more. Each line of his powerful musculature rippled with the slightest movement, and she would be able to prepare for his attacks that much easier.
Willow felt Varhog change from a circling movement to a slow advance before he did, and she knew what she needed to do, as many times as she had done it before. She bent her knees in preparation to spring out of the way but otherwise remained deathly still. She watched him advance, knowing he would try to keep his intentions hidden from her until it was too late for her to react. She also knew he was observing her in an effort to understand which direction she would dodge. She feinted ever so slightly by bending one knee more than the other to give the impression she would go a certain way, but she knew he would expect that. They had fought so many times that they were intimately aware of each other's every technique and method.
To maintain her advantage, Willow had never revealed her secret of how she knew the right moment to dodge. She had to move or duck before he got within a certain range of her, one that encompassed both the length of his arms as well as how far they could reach due to the additional length of his body and legs. His reach was also affected by how much strength he put into his movements. If she moved a split second too late, he would trap her and it would be over. That had happened countless times in the early days of their sparring. Only endless practice had given her the expertise she currently had.
Her secret—the way she always knew which direction to dodge, even though he sought so diligently to anticipate and prevent her—was to watch which leg he sprang from when he finally moved in to attack. She could always see that leg tense ever so slightly more in preparation for his attack and knew the opposite arm would be the one forward and closest to her.
Willow waited until that precise moment when she noticed his right leg bunch and hold slightly longer than on any of his previous steps. The flexing of the muscles extended all the way to his foot. This was her clue that Varhog was about to lunge for her, and as he began to execute the movement in his foot, she prepared, waiting until his lunge reached his hip, which removed his opportunity to adjust. When he had invested that much into his attack, he usually couldn't recover.
Willow always waited so long—just exactly the right amount of time—so Varhog would feel sure of his success, since completing his lunge from his hip out to his hand took less than a full second. But that was always when she spun away, as she did then, away from his nearest hand. He expected her dodge and swung his other arm out after her, but she knew he did in the same instant and ducked under, spinning on her heels in a low crouch. She put one hand on the ground to stop her spin and, from her crouched position, sprang with a determined shout all the way up to his back. It all took place in about three seconds.
Willow clamped her arms around his neck, pulling her legs under her as the natural conclusion of her leap. Varhog struggled to remain upright after his failed attack, since her extra weight on his back momentarily threatened his balance. He opened his mind to her as he righted himself so she could feel her stranglehold taking its toll. He staggered toward the nearest tree, each step requiring more effort than the previous as the demands of his muscles were not met with replenishment from blood and oxygen. He reached the tree and turned, choking sounds rumbling from his chest. Willow watched the tree behind her from the corner of her eye.
Black spots played across Varhog's vision through their mental connection. She could feel his desperation and the terrible burn in his muscles and lungs. His head pounded from lack of blood flow in and out of it, and his body wanted to sag forward as it always did at this moment, but he forced himself back toward the tree. Right before he made contact, Willow quickly slid her legs down and angled her calves downward, flexing her feet so they would hit the tree squarely and the force of his blow would drive her knees up.
Varhog's bash into the tree was weak because of how close he was to passing out, but Willow's adjustment was perfectly timed, and she intensified the strength of the blow by using her own muscles. Her knees drove directly into both of his kidneys at the same moment. She felt a surge of agony wash through him, then his flickering consciousness went black, and Willow gasped as she left her fighting mind. Varhog slumped against the ground with a sickening thud, and she rolled off to the side. She thought she heard a distant roar. Black Thunder. What had she done!
Willow crawled back to Varhog and placed her hands over his back, searching for signs of damage with her mind. She couldn't perceive any and so concluded he must have collapsed due to the pain of her blow to both of his kidneys along with his imminent blackout. At least, that was her conclusion before she moved her hands to find the beat of his heart and the blaze of light created by his mind. Panic built within her as she searched in vain for the energy indicating he was still alive.
Please! she desperately thought. Where is it!
Willow found a glimmer of light—growing dimmer every second—and without even pausing to consider, she poured all her energy into sustaining it, which drained her own proportionately. Sunset! she frantically screamed. Help me!
Willow's dragon began swiftly making her way to Willow, assisting her as she was able from a distance, but Willow knew she wouldn't get there fast enough. Varhog's life was so close to ending, and his huge body required more energy to sustain than Willow had inside of her. Willow braced one hand against the ground as her spell threatened to drain her of life.
The grass! she remembered, feverishly drawing energy from the ground underneath her and reaching her mind further after her arm was fully extended.
The spark of light in Varhog grew to the point where his heart started pounding again. An agonized choking sound ripped from his throat followed by a fit of coughing as his body fought for the oxygen it so urgently needed. With the last of her strength, Willow ended her spell and slumped over Varhog's back just as Sunset crashed through the trees in a reckless landing, pouring energy into Willow to sustain her alarmingly diminished life force.
Varhog turned to his back with a painful grunt, which pulled Willow out straight, leaving her stretched awkwardly over his chest. "Willow!" he fearfully rasped before succumbing to another fit of coughing.
Willow stirred in response to his voice and unsuccessfully attempted to speak. At length she was able to weakly mutter, "I'm here." Sunset continued to feed Willow with vitality until Willow's life force was blazing the color of her scales.
-:-:-
Black Thunder had also flown to his Rider's side, terrified by the abrupt termination of their mental connection and his perception of Varhog. He towered now over the two small figures on the ground, strengthening his Rider with energy until Varhog was completely recovered.
My son, you almost left me, the dragon rebuked.
I . . . I'm sorry, Black Thunder. I didn't want to. Willow saved me. Varhog sat up, pulling Willow over until she was once again on his lap.
But she also almost killed you. Black Thunder's fury was terrible. He had one black eye trained dangerously on Willow.
You know why she did what she did, why we were even fighting! Varhog angrily shouted, his own rage escalating as he felt his dragon's intentions. He encircled Willow protectively in his arms. You will not harm her! You know what that would do to me! It would be the same as if I had just died or if you did. Such would be the depth of my loss! She saved my life! Lucky for us, she was willing to sacrifice herself and had the skill to draw off the earth until you both arrived. She too almost died. Stand down this instant, Black Thunder!
The dragon relaxed, apology in his thoughts. Sunset also relaxed. Varhog realized she had been prepared to take on his dragon in defense of her Rider, if it came to it.
Forgive me, my son, Black Thunder said. When I lost the touch of your mind, the shock was immense. I never could have imagined the frightening emptiness that consumed me at that moment. Take care that this small human girl does not threaten you in such a way again.
She won't, Varhog retorted. But thank you for your concern. It's nice to know you care, he sarcastically added, still bristling at how his dragon had actually considered attacking Willow.
Black Thunder rumbled ominously, but Varhog ignored him for the moment, knowing the threat had passed. He returned his attention to Willow.
"That was intense," he quietly said.
"Yes. I guess I now know what to do in both of the situations I thought up. I'm so sorry, Varhog. You almost died! You almost died twice tonight, once at your own hand and once at mine, or my knees at least. I don't ever want to fight you again. Let's consign ourselves to making love not war, fair enough?"
He made a deep sound in his throat—a chuckle of dry amusement—then gingerly rubbed his neck. "Fair enough. I would much rather make love with you than fight. I would imagine the thrill and excitement are much the same. But you did amazingly that last time. How do you always know exactly when to dodge and duck? I try so hard not to give away when I'm going to lunge for you. You were on me before I even regained my balance."
"You know I can't give away my secret, otherwise I would lose my one advantage. If I couldn't triumph, where would that leave us? You might lose all respect for me and abandon me for another!" Willow jested.
"Never. I will never love another as I do you, Willow." Varhog noticed his bare chest and legs and how scantily he was clad given their intimate proximity. He cleared his throat. "If it weren't for the fact that I am an Urgal and we just fought each other, by the way I'm dressed—or undressed, rather—one might think we really were preparing to make love. Shall I don my clothing?" His previous awkwardness discussing the topic had deserted him.
-:-:-
Willow longed once again to kiss him. It would have been so easy given how they were sitting. Instead, she put her face right next to his and spoke with their lips almost brushing. She felt tendrils of energy between them, inviting her to close the small gap.
"Clothe yourself if you must, but I truly do not mind the closeness of your amazing muscles." Then, sensing the folly of her actions, Willow pulled away. "Actually, being able to see them better helped me even more. Oh dear, does that give you a clue?"
"Not really," Varhog laughed, clearly trying to diffuse the powerful emotions her words—spoken so close to his lips—had elicited. "I had best get dressed. Then we should return to the city. Too many near-death experiences."
"Yes, and too many near kisses," Willow joked. She then made to stand, and Varhog loosened his hold so she could. He also rose and retrieved his clothing. "Your bristles didn't bother me," Willow added in a conversational tone. "What with the adrenaline and empty state of my mind, I didn't even notice them, to be honest."
"You always are," Varhog wryly stated.
Willow smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am. But it will be a different story when I'm naked."
Varhog grimaced. "Please don't say that. It's hard enough for me not to think about it without you throwing it in my face."
Willow guiltily clapped her hand over her mouth. "Sorry," she murmured from behind her fingers. Before either of them could make another suggestive remark, she strode swiftly to Sunset. Her dragon lowered her neck and rested her snout on the top of Willow's head.
Sunshine, she tenderly thought. That was too close. You were so dark and cold, almost snuffed out. I need you, my bright, warm ray of sunshine.
Tears sprang to Willow's eyes at the intensity of Sunset's grief. You saved me. Thank you for helping me save him. I would have been as good as dead if he had died. I love you, Sunset. Sunset lowered her snout down in front of Willow's body so she could wrap her arms around it. Willow rested her head against the smooth area between Sunset's eyes, her tears spilling onto her dragon's scales.
Wanting to change the subject to something less depressing, she said, You seemed to have a nice time. She smiled at Sunset's amusement.
Yes, Black Thunder is magnificent in more ways than size and speed. Sunset revealed no embarrassment or shame at talk of mating, just as Willow didn't. I did not take kindly to him threatening to harm you, however. But I felt a moment of the desolation he experienced as Varhog's mind went black so I cannot resent him too much. All is well now. Just do not underestimate your own strength. Varhog may be an Urgal, but you are also not a force to be underestimated.
Willow smiled at the compliment and planted a kiss on Sunset's snout. At least I can do that with you and fear no dire repercussions. Whenever my lips get anywhere near Varhog, they are overcome by some strange magnetic energy that insists I kiss him at once, preferably never to stop again. It's maddening.
Willow felt Sunset's sympathy then jumped as Varhog placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him with another guilty expression, as if he might have overheard her most recent thought.
"You seem to have a warmer relationship with your dragon than I do with mine," Varhog observed. Then he noticed her expression. "What's the matter?" he asked in concern.
"Nothing," Willow quickly assured. Then she laughed. "Oh, but I just lied! The first time I can ever recall. Nothing was something indeed. Let that be a clue to you that I was thinking something inappropriate that involved you!"
Varhog smiled. "Inappropriate? Hmm. You never cease to amuse me, which is saying something for an Urgal. Here, I found these on the ground." He handed her the pins she had worn in her hair. Their hands brushed, and her stomach fluttered.
"Thank you," Willow murmured. "That was thoughtful. I have plenty more. I never would have missed these." As the urge to kiss him once again seized her, she thought to Sunset, Do you see what I mean? Enough to drive me insane!
Varhog raised his eyebrows in surprise at Sunset's loud rumble of amusement.
"Never mind," Willow insisted. "I'll tell you after we're married." She gave him an impish grin as she slid the pins in a pocket before turning and bounding up Sunset's leg.
"I'll see you back in the city!" she cried, and they were off. Willow noticed Varhog's look of fierce pride and longing as Sunset sprang into the air and she tightened the straps around her legs.
He wants you badly, sunshine, Sunset thought.
I know! Willow exulted. It makes my heart sing! Then she let herself enjoy the time with her beloved friend.
A/N: The following chapter contains a mature love scene. Skip, if so desired.
