John runs a shaking hand along the gently curved body, gaze fixed on the gently spinning eyes. He’s beautiful, perfect, the most fantastic dragon ever to have hatched.
Of course I am, Rodney says. Are you just going to sit there all day, or are you going to feed me? I'm *starving* - who knows what lasting damage might be done to me if I don't eat soon? His eyes began whirring faster, changing colour in response to his rising stress.
“Hey, hey,” John says. “Relax. There’s plenty of food, shh, we’ll get some soon, everything will be *fine*.” Almost instinctively, he moves his hand up onto Rodney’s head, begins to scratch the ridges above his eyes. Rodney’s wings flutter back to his sides, and his eyes slow again.
Oh, he says. That’s nice. How did you-? Oh, oh, and my back, too, you have no *idea* how cramped I’ve been in there, all curled up, I’m amazed I can walk at all, to tell you the truth – hey, hey, did I tell you that you could stop scratching me yet?
John looks down at Rodney, leaning trustingly against him, and he can’t help but laugh in delighted triumph. He’s a dragon rider, a bronze rider, and nothing can hold him - can hold them back now.