Storming up into the short, slightly raised artillery tower, Quinn
threw open the door, looking into the startled eyes of Charlie, their
weapons expert on the premises.
"What? Wasn't there enough dragon for you?" he thundered, showing Charlie the bleeding hole in his arm, where the metal-tipped projectile had torn away his flesh. It hurt like hell, but his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment.
Charlie fumbled, and then, calmly said, "I wasn't concentrating, Quinn. We didn't expect you back so-"
"Wasn't concentrating?" Quinn yelled into Charlie's face, literally inches from the other man. "Maybe you shouldn't bloody well be operating the harpoon if you don't concentrate! Keep one eye on the sky, you idiot!"
Charlie kept his opinions to himself, accepting Quinn as the leader. He merely listened as he was scolded.
"You could have at least aimed a little higher, avoided taking a chunk outta my arm," Quinn grumbled loudly, calming down enough to lower his volume.
Charlie didn't quite know how to react, and so, in his strong Welsh accent, mumbled, "Did you want Alex?"
Quinn turned his head back to the artillery operator, and sighed. "Yeah." He looked around vaguely in each direction. "Where is she?"
Charlie gestured to the tower, and replied, "She's resting, the last I knew. I don't think she feels too well today."
Quinn nodded as if mesmerised. With that, he walked away, holding one hand to the wound on his upper arm.
* * *
Alex stirred as a hand touched her arm gently, looking over sleepily at Quinn, sitting at her bedside.
He looked as though he had had a rough day. His dark brown hair was a tousled mess on top of his head, resting around his jaw line in loose locks. His dark eyes studied her with affection, and his lips were half twisted into a smile. His recently shaved facial hair was quickly re- growing, and Alex smiled.
"Hi," he said quietly, soothingly.
She made a happy noise, quietly, so as not to wake the other people sleeping in the large tower room. There were at least two other couples trying to rest together, and three single individuals wrapped tightly in blankets, hidden from the bitter cool blowing in through the many cracks and holes in the brick walls.
"How are you feeling? Charlie said you didn't feel well," Quinn muttered in a gentle voice.
"Forget about me," she announced, her consideration for the other occupants forgotten, noticing the bleeding mess on Quinn's upper right arm, "we need to get that cleaned up right now."
Quinn shook his head once, insistently, "No, it's not as bad as it looks."
Alex sat up in the bed, carefully, sporting a rather impressive bump, about eight months along. That was her reason for resting, and for not feeling well. It was kicking again, and the morning sickness was not always mornings. Whoever had come up with that term needed straightening out seriously.
Alex touched her fingertips to the nasty wound, and asked, cringing, even as Quinn winced, "What happened?"
Through a hiss of obvious pain as Alex inspected his arm, Quinn replied, "Charlie was on the harpoon, and 'he wasn't concentrating'. Apparently thirty feet of dragon wasn't enough for him."
Alex allowed herself a shy smile. Why was she still so quiet around him? They had been together for about two years now, and they were even having a child. She should really come out of her shell more often around him, other than at night.
She closed her eyes with a hidden smile at her thoughts, and stood, moving to fetch some towels and bandages.
Quinn beat her to it, helping her back to the bed, kneeling before her on the floor.
She sat on the low bed, and began cleaning the wound carefully, so as not to hurt Quinn. Alex would have to give Charlie a piece of her mind. What made him think he could go around shooting at her husband anyway? She knew it hadn't been intentional. Charlie was better than that, but the Welshman sometimes needed a better attention span. He should have heard that dragon coming. if they had indeed killed it.
"Did you actually get the dragon then?" she asked, watching as Quinn removed his coat, sweater, and T-shirt so that she could bandage his arm. She still felt her limbs tingle whenever she saw him like this. Why? It had been so long.
He nodded, and let her bandage his arm, wrapping the cloth around and around, before she finally tied it off gently, yet securely. "Lucky the dragon came over the hill low. Charlie got it square in the chest. Came crashing right down; snapped its own neck."
She nodded, and added, "Did you check?"
"That it was dead?" he wondered, starting to don his clothing again, feeling the bite of the cold in the England air. "Yes. I checked."
"The axe?" she guessed. Her husband had been using that weapon ever since. since Van Zan had died. Quinn felt he owed it to the American to keep his spirit alive by carrying his weapon of choice.
He nodded again, and leaned over, kissing her on the forehead affectionately, before running a hand over her stomach. He smiled slightly. It was rare now that anyone, including Alex, would see expression from Quinn, besides anger, or irritation.
The reappearance of the dragons had hit him hard. He viewed it as a failure on his account. Since he had been the one to kill the male, he felt he was responsible for the others. the leftovers.
His theory of a fertilized egg containing a male embryo was frightening to say the least. To think that all they had done could be in vain. but they had to face the facts. Why else would they still be around after so long, even when they managed to kill nine out of ten that neared the castle. They had watchtowers all around for five miles, and no dragon could pass without being spotted, and recorded. They estimated the size of each of them, and gave them nicknames.
Some of the colonists found this strange, considering they just killed them anyway, and they should not get to know them by title. They only ever named the ones they saw, naturally, and those just got killed. But occasionally, one slipped away from them, and they could recognise them by these titles and estimates. Sometimes, the females had different tints to their scales, and they could recognise them easier this way, by taking note of this colour variation.
"Was it a local?" she asked, knowing Quinn would understand her meaning.
Again, he nodded. "It was that large female from last Tuesday. What did we call her?" He thought for a moment, and then said, "We called her 'Venom'. She had a black shade to her scales. She was the biggest I'd seen in a while."
Alex acknowledged with a nod, and stroked his dark hair from his face, smiling at him. "Don't worry. We'll get rid of them eventually."
"What? Wasn't there enough dragon for you?" he thundered, showing Charlie the bleeding hole in his arm, where the metal-tipped projectile had torn away his flesh. It hurt like hell, but his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment.
Charlie fumbled, and then, calmly said, "I wasn't concentrating, Quinn. We didn't expect you back so-"
"Wasn't concentrating?" Quinn yelled into Charlie's face, literally inches from the other man. "Maybe you shouldn't bloody well be operating the harpoon if you don't concentrate! Keep one eye on the sky, you idiot!"
Charlie kept his opinions to himself, accepting Quinn as the leader. He merely listened as he was scolded.
"You could have at least aimed a little higher, avoided taking a chunk outta my arm," Quinn grumbled loudly, calming down enough to lower his volume.
Charlie didn't quite know how to react, and so, in his strong Welsh accent, mumbled, "Did you want Alex?"
Quinn turned his head back to the artillery operator, and sighed. "Yeah." He looked around vaguely in each direction. "Where is she?"
Charlie gestured to the tower, and replied, "She's resting, the last I knew. I don't think she feels too well today."
Quinn nodded as if mesmerised. With that, he walked away, holding one hand to the wound on his upper arm.
* * *
Alex stirred as a hand touched her arm gently, looking over sleepily at Quinn, sitting at her bedside.
He looked as though he had had a rough day. His dark brown hair was a tousled mess on top of his head, resting around his jaw line in loose locks. His dark eyes studied her with affection, and his lips were half twisted into a smile. His recently shaved facial hair was quickly re- growing, and Alex smiled.
"Hi," he said quietly, soothingly.
She made a happy noise, quietly, so as not to wake the other people sleeping in the large tower room. There were at least two other couples trying to rest together, and three single individuals wrapped tightly in blankets, hidden from the bitter cool blowing in through the many cracks and holes in the brick walls.
"How are you feeling? Charlie said you didn't feel well," Quinn muttered in a gentle voice.
"Forget about me," she announced, her consideration for the other occupants forgotten, noticing the bleeding mess on Quinn's upper right arm, "we need to get that cleaned up right now."
Quinn shook his head once, insistently, "No, it's not as bad as it looks."
Alex sat up in the bed, carefully, sporting a rather impressive bump, about eight months along. That was her reason for resting, and for not feeling well. It was kicking again, and the morning sickness was not always mornings. Whoever had come up with that term needed straightening out seriously.
Alex touched her fingertips to the nasty wound, and asked, cringing, even as Quinn winced, "What happened?"
Through a hiss of obvious pain as Alex inspected his arm, Quinn replied, "Charlie was on the harpoon, and 'he wasn't concentrating'. Apparently thirty feet of dragon wasn't enough for him."
Alex allowed herself a shy smile. Why was she still so quiet around him? They had been together for about two years now, and they were even having a child. She should really come out of her shell more often around him, other than at night.
She closed her eyes with a hidden smile at her thoughts, and stood, moving to fetch some towels and bandages.
Quinn beat her to it, helping her back to the bed, kneeling before her on the floor.
She sat on the low bed, and began cleaning the wound carefully, so as not to hurt Quinn. Alex would have to give Charlie a piece of her mind. What made him think he could go around shooting at her husband anyway? She knew it hadn't been intentional. Charlie was better than that, but the Welshman sometimes needed a better attention span. He should have heard that dragon coming. if they had indeed killed it.
"Did you actually get the dragon then?" she asked, watching as Quinn removed his coat, sweater, and T-shirt so that she could bandage his arm. She still felt her limbs tingle whenever she saw him like this. Why? It had been so long.
He nodded, and let her bandage his arm, wrapping the cloth around and around, before she finally tied it off gently, yet securely. "Lucky the dragon came over the hill low. Charlie got it square in the chest. Came crashing right down; snapped its own neck."
She nodded, and added, "Did you check?"
"That it was dead?" he wondered, starting to don his clothing again, feeling the bite of the cold in the England air. "Yes. I checked."
"The axe?" she guessed. Her husband had been using that weapon ever since. since Van Zan had died. Quinn felt he owed it to the American to keep his spirit alive by carrying his weapon of choice.
He nodded again, and leaned over, kissing her on the forehead affectionately, before running a hand over her stomach. He smiled slightly. It was rare now that anyone, including Alex, would see expression from Quinn, besides anger, or irritation.
The reappearance of the dragons had hit him hard. He viewed it as a failure on his account. Since he had been the one to kill the male, he felt he was responsible for the others. the leftovers.
His theory of a fertilized egg containing a male embryo was frightening to say the least. To think that all they had done could be in vain. but they had to face the facts. Why else would they still be around after so long, even when they managed to kill nine out of ten that neared the castle. They had watchtowers all around for five miles, and no dragon could pass without being spotted, and recorded. They estimated the size of each of them, and gave them nicknames.
Some of the colonists found this strange, considering they just killed them anyway, and they should not get to know them by title. They only ever named the ones they saw, naturally, and those just got killed. But occasionally, one slipped away from them, and they could recognise them by these titles and estimates. Sometimes, the females had different tints to their scales, and they could recognise them easier this way, by taking note of this colour variation.
"Was it a local?" she asked, knowing Quinn would understand her meaning.
Again, he nodded. "It was that large female from last Tuesday. What did we call her?" He thought for a moment, and then said, "We called her 'Venom'. She had a black shade to her scales. She was the biggest I'd seen in a while."
Alex acknowledged with a nod, and stroked his dark hair from his face, smiling at him. "Don't worry. We'll get rid of them eventually."