You're leaving me with a DRAGON!!

I blinked. Slowly. Like maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t happening.

“You’re leaving me with a dragon?”

Kellan slung his bag over his shoulder like this was a casual hike and not, you know, a cosmic betrayal of friendship. His stupid grin got wider. “She likes you.”

“She tried to eat me last week.”

“Correction,” he said, holding up one finger, “she tested your reflexes.”

“She inhaled and I lost my eyebrows.”

“Eh, they’re growing back nicely.”

Behind me, the dragon huffed — a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated the ground and tickled the bottom of my spine with primal fear. The trees at the edge of the glade trembled. A small flock of birds made the intelligent choice to flee.

“I’m not qualified for this,” I hissed.

“She’s not a job interview. She’s a majestic, emotionally complex, murder-capable creature who’s very attached to her nap schedule.” Kellan glanced over his shoulder at her, then lowered his voice. “Also, she’s been a tiny bit moody since I accidentally stole that cursed goblet from her hoard, so... just avoid mentioning the word 'cup.' Or 'steal.' Or 'curse.' Really, maybe don’t talk at all.”

“Oh good,” I said, my eye twitching. “So, I’ll just stand here in silence and hope she doesn’t flambé me in my sleep.”

“Exactly. You’re a natural at this.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

He winked — the kind of wink that made tavern maidens swoon and I consider hiding sharp objects. Then he turned, stepped toward the glowing blue portal crackling behind him, and tossed me a satchel.

“Emergency meat rations!” he called. “Also, I think there’s a squeaky toy in there. She likes those.”

The portal flared, brighter than lightning. I lunged.

Too late.

He vanished in a swirl of sparkles and smugness, and the portal sealed with a pop.

Silence.

Long, long silence.

Then… the sound of something massive exhaling.

I turned around slowly. She was right there.

The dragon — thirty feet of armored muscle, shimmering amethyst scales, horns that curved like obsidian scythes, and golden eyes that locked onto mine with unsettling amusement. Smoke curled from her nostrils.

I clutched the satchel to my chest.

“…So,” I managed, “Want to be friends?”

A pause. Then, in a deep, velvety voice laced with centuries of boredom and sarcasm:

“Only if you stop screaming every time I blink.”

I froze. “You talk?”

“I speak, peasant.”

“I’m not a—okay, no, that’s fair.”

She stretched, wings unfolding with a sound like sails catching wind, casting half the glade in shadow.

“What’s your name?” I asked carefully.

“I have many names,” she said, flicking her tail. “But Kellan calls me ‘Peaches.’”

“…Peaches?”

She growled.

I wisely decided not to laugh out loud.

That night, I tried to sleep in the clearing. The dragon — Peaches — was coiled like a living mountain of muscle and molten attitude nearby. Every time I shifted in my makeshift bedroll, she cracked an eye open and stared like she could see straight through me.

“Do you ever… like… hang out with other dragons?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“…You sure?”

She snorted. “I don’t want anything. I’m a dragon. I take.”

“Right,” I mumbled. “Just checking.”

There was a long silence. I thought maybe she’d finally drifted off when she said, low and quiet:

“I miss him, too.”

I turned my head toward her. Her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths.

I didn’t sleep much.

The next morning, I found a half-burnt deer carcass next to my bedroll. A gift, apparently.

Later, I accidentally stepped on her tail, and she knocked me into a tree — which was, by her standards, a love tap.

We found a rhythm.

Sort of.

She taught me how to roast fish in dragon fire without disintegrating it. I taught her how to play cards. (She cheats.) She told me stories from a time when kingdoms bowed to her. I taught her a lullaby my mother used to sing.

It was… weird. But it worked.

Three days turned to four. Then five.

Kellan didn’t return.

On the sixth day, we heard the hunters.

Humans.

Loud. Armed. Stupid.

Peaches growled low in her throat, crouching behind the trees. Her wings twitched.

“You want me to scare them off?” I whispered.

She blinked. “With what, your disappointing aura?”

“Fair.”

“Stay here.”

“No.”

She turned. “Excuse me?”

“If you kill them, they’ll send more,” I said, stepping up beside her. My knees were trembling. My brain was screaming. But I kept my voice steady. “Let me try talking.”

Peaches stared at me for a long moment. Then…

“…You’re dumber than Kellan.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Somehow — miraculously — I talked them down. They backed off. Apparently, Kellan’s “reputation” bought us just enough time.

When I came back to the glade, Peaches looked… weirdly impressed.

“You didn’t scream once,” she said.

“I screamed internally.”

She laughed — a thunderclap of a sound that shook the trees.

And then, a soft sound like tearing paper, and pop!

Kellan stepped through a second portal, grinning like he hadn’t vanished for nearly a week.

“I brought pie!” he announced.

I didn’t even speak.

I just punched him.

Peaches laughed again.