Razori stroked both thumbs down the snout of the red dragon whelp, recumbent across his thighs, with a surety that had me jealous. He’d always had a way with animals, including the human kind, and his touch had translated easily to the creature we’d found in the ruins.
“What should we do with it?” My heart skipped, as its gold eyes slid to mine.
“Train it. We can finally do something, Clar.” His eyes burned hot as any dragon’s fire.
Rebellion. I could smell it, rising from his skin, becoming ashes on my tongue.
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: recumbent, thumb, whelp)