shrug of his gigantic shoulders. “Has it really been four
months?”
“I can’t quite believe it, either,” she said in
an aching, hollow voice.
“Ah, you seem so … lonely, Kyra. Perhaps you
should marry again.”
“No!” she said emphatically. A moment later, a sad
smile washed over her face. “I know you mean well,” she
said, “but I could never love another man after Seron. We
were best friends as well as lovers. We finished each
other’s thoughts, laughed at each other’s jokes.” She closed
her eyes. “I can’t sleep without him. I reach for him at
night,” she softly admitted, and then rubbed her eyes open.
“I saw you preening for that female up there,” she gestured
with a wan smile on her face, “and my first thought was
that I wanted to tell Seron that you hadn’t changed a bit.”
“Please don’t point,” he said, embarrassed. “She’ll
know that we’re talking about her.”
Kyra lowered her hand. “Sorry,” she said. “Apology
accepted,” he said indulgently. She reached out and
stroked his head the way she used to back in the old days.
He smiled.
Kyra had spent all her waking hours – and many of her
sleeping hours, as well – reliving her life with Seron. Over
and over again, every conversation, every hug, every night
of passion played in her mind. She remembered he had
always wanted her to do something more with her life. He
had said she was capable of doing anything she set her mind
to. The only thing she had set her mind to, though, was
loving him. Shouldn’t that have been enough?
He had tried so hard for her. He never brought home a
pocketful of money, but he always brought home kindness,
laughter, and a sweetness of spirit. If he had wanted her to
accomplish more with her life, why couldn’t she try to do
that for him now?
She laughed at herself. He would have said, ‘Don’t do it
for ME, do it for YOU!”
Was it too late now to do it for either of them?
She glanced down at her hands. Tentatively, she
allowed herself to ask the question, If I can do anything I set
my mind to, what should I do?
Her mind was blank.
“So, what do you think of the way I’m wearing my
scales?” asked Tosch, interrupting her reverie.
“What?”
“My scales … on my back,” said the dragon, turning to
give her a better look. “I’ve forced the edges up just a bit.
Pretty stylish, huh?”
“It looks very modem. You might start a trend.”
“You think so?”
“If anyone can,” she laughed, “it’s you.”
“Well, the only way I can start a trend is if I am seen by
everyone,” Tosch said thoughtfully. “So I guess I’d better be
on my way.”
He flapped his wings and slowly rose off the ground.
“I’ll be back soon to pick up my new cape. Bye, now.”
She went back to the only trade she knew – serving ale.
She worked long hours at a new tavern where the owner
favored her and the customers appreciated her diligence.
But the years of hard work and scraping by had taken a toll
on her. Now, the younger barmaids had to fend off the
pinches and the propositions, and only the regulars took
notice of the pale, disheveled Kyra. She did not care – she
did not care about much.
Six years passed before Tosch returned. Kyra
understood that to a brass dragon, six years was hardly more
than a week; she wasn’t angry with him. Besides, in her
great and enduring sadness, there was precious little
happiness. Seeing her old friend was a welcome relief from
her neverending sense of loss.
They sat on a sandy beach at the edge of the bay. She
glanced up and smiled, slightly averting her eyes. It was
self-preservation. Tosch was covered with every
imaginable color of cloth; it nearly blinded her whenever
she tried to gaze at him. He obviously was not interested
in the three-color cape that she had painstakingly made.
“Look,” he said, insisting that she focus her eyes on
him, “I’ve had my teeth chiseled. What do you think?