Warm Seat in a Cold Storm (Otherwise Untitled)

Story by Moriar on SoFurry

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#202 of Short Stories

A dragon fails to die.


~ The storm blazed a trail of ice and wind across the sky, sheets of water unrelenting as the regular flash of lightning scrambled between clouds and thunder. Below the night's glimmer stretched a long toss of road through the largely idle fields of pasture being tossed about under the chill breeze. On the shoulder of the road stumbled the lanky frame of a dragon clutching what he had of a coat about his shoulders and waist.

~ The dragon sort of sidestepped onto the shoulder of the road and then the grass as headlights peeked over the horizon and approached on the roadway. When the car slowed on its approach, the dragon slide down into the ditch, startling when it came to a proper stop on the shoulder above him. After a pause, the passenger door opened and the driver called out into the pour, "Get in." She went so far as to wave a hand infront of her forehead, where a jackalope's antlers would have been.

~ The dragon, numbed by ways more than cold, scrambled up out from the muck and into the offered seat. His host reached up to flick on the cabin lights, once the closed door placed the couple in a moment's darkness excepting the flicker of scattered lightning and the pale red glow dribbling from the dragon's chin and onto his coat.

~ The rabbit winced, reaching an arm behind the seat to grasp about in a bag of groceries.

~ "My dad used to ride with a dragon, when he was in a gang.", pulling forward a box of Goat'd Oat'd Land's Brands cereal to toss into the dragon's lap.

~ "Bweehugh?", everything still a baffling fog of events and engine rumble about the dragon's vicinity and thoughts.

~ "One of the things he learned was that grains were the best thing for when a dragon ate his own flame.", reaching over to open the box and shake the contents up at her passenger, "Eat."