Dirt clung to the slumber drool on Crispin’s face. He woke up and wiped it
off, trying to remember why he’d fallen asleep outside. “Gordinth,” he
whispered, turning to look at the headstone he’d conjured up. The sun
still lay below the horizon; only the faintest glow of dawn lit the black
sky. When he heard snores coming from behind, he turned to see Jago lying
there, curled up. With no other dragons in sight, he stood up, stretched,
and brushed the dirt off his legs and arms.
Jago’s eyes opened.
“Jago, we need to go and find the others. They’re going to need our help.
Gordinth would have wanted us to do this.”
Jago stood and looked at the shallow grave.
Gordinth’s gone. What shall we do, Master?
Crispin said, “I’m taking over Gordinth’s hut. I’m moving my things in
right now.” He ignored the dragon’s question and stomped toward the
Gretel’s hut, which they shared. A hooded gray cloak, identical to
Gordinth’s, only smaller, lay on his bed. “Where did this come from?” He
picked it up. The clean fabric slipped through his fingers. “Gordinth left
this for me.” Slipping it over his head, he became one with the cloak. “It
fits perfectly.” His other clothes disappeared. “I always wanted a blue
one, but this is much better.”
When he went outside, Jago noticed the cloak.
It suits you well, Master. What do you ask of me?
“Help me move my things into Gordinth’s hut,” Crispin said, “and then
we’re going to find the others, even if we have to search every inch of
the island. Rosenwyn can stay with the babies. They’ll need her
protection.” Since he only had an armful of belongings, it didn’t take
long to transfer them to the other hut. “One day I’ll figure out what to
do with all this other stuff.”
Jago stood in the village waiting.
Crispin ran to him, climbed on the dragon’s back, grabbing one of the
spikes on his neck. “Let’s go!”
soared to the clouds, disappearing among the mist.
“Let’s find them, Jago.”