Free Dragon Fire by Dina von Lowenkraft

mind-touch. Try.” If he could prove that humans could develop certain skills, maybe he could convince the other dragons to stop playing with them. “Focus on where we’re touching, and then let your mind slip from your hand to mine.”
    Anna closed her eyes and Rakan felt her focus on their hands. But she got stuck.
    “Feel me with your mind the way your hand feels me physically.” He squeezed her hand gently, mentally creating a path that would pull her in.
    “Don’t do that.” Her eyes flew open and she pulled her hand away. “I want to do it on my own.”
    Rakan laughed.
    “What?” she asked.
    “You reacted just like a puppy,” Rakan said. He remembered how annoyed he’d get when the Old Dragons had tried to help him that way. But Anna stared at him, confused.
    “Okay, okay,” he said, holding up a hand. “Next time I won’t help.”
    “Better not,” she teased. “Or how can I learn?”
    “By accepting my help,” Rakan said, smiling. “You’d make a good dragon.”
    “So would you,” Anna said with a smile that caught him off guard.
    Rakan’s smile faded. Did she know?
    The waitress cleared their plates and took their dessert orders.
    “You have a thing for dragons, don’t you?” asked Anna, picking up the sketch he had done earlier of a water dragon.
    Rakan took it back and crumpled it up.
    “Why did you do that? It was beautiful,” Anna said. “I would’ve kept it.”
    “I’ll draw you a better one,” he said. He sketched himself answering the Call to Rise. “Here,” he said, handing it to her.
    * * *
    The waitress came with their desserts while Anna was still staring at the drawing. It was of a dragon flying in the sky, wings outstretched and flames curling from its mouth as it faced the rising sun. It looked completely different from the dragon on her pendant. More like what she had always thought of a dragon looking like. “Can I keep this one?”
    “If you want,” answered Pemba. “But it’d be better in color.”
    “No. It’s perfect.” Anna looked at it more closely. “Where’d you learn to draw?”
    “I’ve always drawn. But I prefer sculpting.”
    “You should sign up at the Art Center – they have studios you can use.”
    “I don’t think I could work with people around,” Pemba answered. “I’ll wait until I’m back home.”
    “Oh,” Anna said, feeling hurt. “Is that what you miss the most?”
    “No,” Pemba said without further explanation. He played with his glass, spinning it around as they both sat in an uncomfortable silence. “What do your parents do?” he asked out of the blue.
    Anna looked away, surprised by the pain that the question brought up. “My mother is a nurse at the hospital. My father…” she shut her eyes. “My father died ten years ago when he was coming back from a solo expedition to the North Pole. He was with a dog team. Sledding. And he was only a few kilometers away from base camp when a freak storm came up. Nothing was ever found. No dogs. No sled. No radio. Nothing.”
    Pemba was silent. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”
    Anna looked up into his eyes and saw a flash of orange, the same color as his Maii-a. “Your eyes…” she started to say.
    Pemba looked away and Anna once again felt like she just couldn’t get it right.
    “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into her lemon tart.
    “No,” Pemba said. “It’s not you. I… I’m not used to this.”
    Anna nodded but didn’t look up. “Me neither.”
    “You know what I miss the most about home?”
    Suddenly, Anna didn’t want to eat anymore. His girlfriend. He misses his girlfriend. She put her hands in her lap and shook her head. I’m such a fool.
    “I miss our yaks. I miss taking care of the herds.” Pemba’s voice dropped so low she had to strain to hear him. “I miss the high altitude where the air is thin and the only sound is the wind,” he said. “I miss being free.”
    Anna looked at Pemba. She could feel his