The Golden Dragon's Hoard

2 - 3

"I've dreamed a lot. I'm tired now from dreaming but not tired of dreaming. No one tires of dreaming, because to dream is to forget, and forgetting does not weigh on us, it is a dreamless sleep throughout which we remain awake. In dreams I have achieved everything."
― Fernando Pessoa

I really like this chapter even though most of it is a throwback (kinda, not really) or past memories cropping up. Still important to plot, but I don't typically like flashback scenes - but maybe that's just because I'm picking about stuff like that in my own literature.

Part Two - Chapter Three
"The Dragon's Loved Witch"

"It's okay, starlight," they whisper, huddling down next to Stray as they watch a witch storm down the corridor. As their hiding spot gets passed by, both of them hold their breath, wide eyes tracking the footfalls until she falls out of view.

His heart hammers in his chest, claws clenched over the other's wrist.

It's always scary, sneaking around. One wrong move, one time being spotted, and the witches won't be happy. He's supposed to be in the cage, the witches don't like him out of it.

But not all the witches.

This witch, the one hiding with him, will not be angry.

They're his, after all. His hoard. Nothing is more important than that.

They're trying to get Stray to the big window, so he can see the sun. He hasn't touched sunshine, let alone been outside, for so long. It's no good for him to be without it, he's weaker and heals slower.

"Go," a hand on his back, pushing forward. "Go now, before patrol comes back."

Time is irrelevant, here, nothing makes sense.

They're standing in front of the window, then, one second or one hour later.

Outside has always amazed Stray.

It's large and it's free, tall trees and wide, blue skies. Sunlight casting over big, puffy white clouds that he dreams of flying over. Today, the sun is bright and warm, soaking into his skin.

He exhales, eyes not leaving the golden light.

"One day," they say, hand in his and giving it a light squeeze. "I'm going to get us out of here, star. We're going to leave and never come back, we'll get a small house and a cow and anything else we want."

Stray turns to them, frowning. "I don't want anything but you."

"I'll be there," they smile. "No matter where we go, it's us forever."

"Us forever, really?"

"Of course. Where else would I be if not with you?"

Voices carry over to them, twisting and angry.

They run down the corridor without saying a single thing, movements all faint and hazy, like it's not actually happening. He wants to comment on it but the panic of hearing people talking from just around the corner brushes everything away—

His witch shoves him, suddenly, into an empty room.

It's small and dark and he whines, a hand clasping over his mouth as a body presses into his. The door shuts silently behind them.

"Be quiet," they whisper, gasping. "We can't get caught."

With their fear palpable in the air, there's no way that order is going to get ignored. He nods, reaching up to grab their wrist, tugging it from his mouth.