Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

and swung one leg up and over to settle into the
     small leather saddle positioned just at the neck junction. She didn’t have to be told
     that Dax had provided the saddle for her. There were no reins—it wasn’t at all like
     riding a horse. She found stirrups, more to brace herself with than for any other
     reason.
    Riley grasped one of the long spikes and held on tightly. The Old One didn’t need
     to be told she was ready; their connection was growing stronger, just as her bond
     with Dax grew stronger with every passing moment. She felt the tremendous strength
     as the dragon gathered himself to make the leap into the air. Great wings pumped strong
     and they were aloft.
    Riley lifted her face to the star-studded sky, laughing with sheer joy. She had dreamt
     of adventures, yearned for so much more, hungered for that one partner, that perfect man who would fit with her, would give her the
     courage to embrace life. In this perfect moment she had it all. She felt Dax entwined
     deep inside of her, holding her close—safe.
    The dragon was such an unexpected gift. Dax had given her so many in such a short
     time. He was everything she’d ever dreamt of. It was impossible not to fall more and
     more for him. He had spun ties around her heart without her even realizing he was
     doing it. There was something so incredible about the combination of the gentleness
     he inevitably showed her and the fierce, explosive warrior he could suddenly become
     the moment circumstances demanded.
    The Old One flew high above the forest, and looking down she could see the damage
     the blast had done to the mountain. Mudslides had swept away trees in sections, cutting
     paths through deep forest. Steam vents had opened, and ash covered everything, but
     this side of the mountain had been spared the worst of it. For all the mess of the
     ash, looking down on the canopy was incredible. As if reading her mind, and he probably
     was, the dragon dropped down closer so she could even make out the animals and birds
     taking shelter in the branches.
    The wind tore tears from her eyes and blew her hair back from her face. The sound
     of her laughter echoed through the skies. She could see why Dax had entrusted the
     dragon to make the journey. The powerful wings beat down and up, creating a wind of
     their own, so that dragon and rider streaked through the sky, high above the miles
     of rain forest. The river looked like a ribbon and the various streams feeding it
     appeared to be thin threads cutting through the dark forests of trees.
    She should have been afraid, but Dax was too close, in her mind, whispering to her,
     pointing out waterfalls and cool, hidden pools as well as the silvery, moonlit leaves
     exposed after the wind from the Old One’s powerful wings blew the ash away.
    All too soon they were back to the mountain, and the dragon circled, descending over
     a ruin of a village. To one side of the ruins she spotted a sea of stars, petals open,
     bathing in the moonlight.
    Dax. She breathed his name in a kind of awe. It’s so beautiful.
    Yes, it is. Thank you for showing it to me through your eyes.
    The dragon banked hard and she clutched at the base of the spike at the junction of
     his neck, gliding as he approached the field of flowers. She held her breath, afraid
     he’d land in the middle of them and crush all those swaying night star flowers. Again
     she had the impression of amusement from the dragon. He settled just to the right
     of the field without as much as a bump. Very politely he extended his leg.
    “Thank you, Old One,” she said softly. “That was . . . extraordinary.” Riley scratched
     around the base of the horn on his nose.
    The red dragon inclined his head, his eyes glowing affectionately. She stretched,
     pacing away from him to get a good look at the flowers. The field was tucked around
     ancient circular stone structures, and raised platforms dotted the slopes, very indicative
     of the Cloud People. Mist moved around her, enveloping her, nearly obscuring her vision
     of the ruins. Up so high, where she was born, in the familiar stunted growth of the
     lush forest, she took a moment to look around, hoping the blast from the other side
     of the mountain had spared the forest itself.
    Thankfully, there appeared to be very little damage. The ruins were intact, a historical
     treasure for generations to come. The forest itself, the flora and fauna supplied
     by the heavy mist forming the veil of