Rose never turns her back on the dragon. She knows better.
But she also knows Jake should have been here by now, even taking the alternate route and accounting for numerous delays.
She paces. It keeps her warm and gives her something to do. She has the supplies to build a fire in her pack, but she won't risk lighting one, and she can't call for backup. She'd rather deal with the bone-chilling cold than risk drawing unwanted attention.
She and the American Dragon cannot be found until Jake has the information he needs.
If anyone else in the Huntsclan realizes they've captured the American Dragon, they'll be expected to slay her. They'd lose their only bargaining chip. And the dragons would never help Jake, never free him of his curse.
And if the Huntsclan found out they had the American Dragon and let her go, the consequences would be horrific. They had ways of forcing the truth from people. They'd want to know exactly why they allowed the American Dragon to go free, and a word of truth to them would condemn Jake forever. They wouldn't both be able to lie, to withstand the tortures that would await them.
It would be worse for her to begin with. She's climbed so high; she has so much farther to fall. This would destroy her, destroy her legacy as Huntsgirl. It would be easy enough to make them believe Jake was merely following her orders. She has the authority, and he is her friend. But she could not keep the truth of why she's doing what she's doing forever.
It wouldn't take much, after all.
A half-mumbled, practically incoherent sentence.
Anything that would give them reason to look closer. At Jake, at her, at everything they've done. Their research, the security logs, mission logs, training statistics…. Once they looked, they'd find out the truth, or at least enough of it to guess the truth.
They would kill Jake. They wouldn't want to risk keeping him alive. He's too dangerous, even without training like the American Dragon receives. Besides, they wouldn't need him alive, not unless they wanted to study a living specimen, and that would be a far worse fate. It would still end with death, she was sure, but it would be far slower and far more painful.
They would just imprison her. She would have no chance at redemption. Not that she'd want it. Not after what they would have done to Jake. Living out a life imprisoned by the Huntsclan, never again seeing the outside world, would be better than she'd deserved if her plan got her best friend killed.
They'd use her to find out everything she's learned about dragons from this experience. From Jake. From their secret training sessions. They'd supplement their records.
And Jake would be gone.
She can't let this end that way, can't let this mission fail, but Jake isn't coming.
She knows he isn't.
But she won't admit it. It's better to wait. To try to convince herself that he's just been delayed.
The hours crawl. Rose can't hide the desperation in her vigil. She knows something must have gone wrong. Jake would have found some way to contact her if he'd had the opportunity. Even the dragon, weak though she is, notices her increased pacing, the fervent glances at the sliver of sky that can be seen from their position, half-hidden within the cliffs.
They should have never split up. She should have insisted he come, that she could keep the dragon and the dangerous sphinx hair far enough ahead so it wouldn't affect him. All he would have needed to do was keep her in sight.
It's too late now.
"Your partner isn't coming," the dragon says weakly. She sits there, shivering, huddled into herself but unable to draw away from the sphinx hair woven into the net. The dampness of the cave, their hiding spot, makes the chill worse for her. She'd feel it more keenly in her dragon form since she's a fire-breather. That's Rose's only consolation right now; she won't be able to recover the strength to burn through the sphinx hair net. "If you let me go, you won't have to worry about him anymore."
Rose tightens her grip on her spear. "We all know the risks. Your hide is worth more than his." It's a lie to her, but it's not a lie to the rest of the Huntsclan, so it's easy to pass off as truth.
The dragon sneezes. A tiny curl of smoke leaves her nostrils, and she coughs. "I don't want to die," she says plaintively.
"You're an abomination," snaps Rose. The words are automatic. They're harder to believe now, with Jake being…. With Jake being what he is. And her trying to convince him he isn't an abomination because of it. But she's Huntsgirl; she cannot afford any weakness, especially not in front of the dragon.
"I'm just a girl. Like you."
Rose spins, drawing her spear closer to the dragon. The dragon flinches back from its polished tip, but both of them can see her perverse reflection. "Your scales say otherwise," Rose snarls.
The dragon's shivers become more violent, and she says nothing. Rose tilts her head, watching. The shaking isn't just shivering, it's— "You're fighting to keep your form."
The dragon ducks her head, but she can't make herself any smaller.
Rose stands back, watching as fire flares and eats away at the dragon form without burning the net. The human mask the dragon wears is tinier than she'd expected, even considering the dragon's small size. She looks like a child, a young girl, hardly more than half of Rose's own age. It's…disquieting.
Dragons are shapeshifters. Their dragon form, their human mask— Rose knows that isn't all they have. Whether it's their innate magic or with the help of some brewed potion, she knows they can take many other forms. She's read the reports that prove it, that have borne witness to it time and time again. She might have dismissed one, possibly even two, with Jake showing no inkling of such a skill, but not dozens.
This still might not be the dragon's true form.
She might be searching for sympathy, might think this is the best way to get it.
She might believe looking young, helpless, lost will break through Rose's exterior, will soften her heart.
The dragon has buried her head in human knees, arms tightly wrapped around them, and all Rose can see is the same pigtailed black hair as before.
It could still be a trick.
"I don't want to die," the dragon whispers again, and this time her voice cracks, and she begins to cry. "Why do I have to die because of who I am?"
Rose's grip on her spear is white-knuckled now, and she has to consciously take deep breaths so she doesn't shake. "It's not because of who you are," she says evenly, "but because of what you are."
She takes up watch by the hidden entrance again, grateful the dragon's wails are lost in the sound of crashing surf, and waits for some sign of Jake.
She doesn't know if the salt she tastes is from the sea.