The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1), Dan Michaelson [heaven official's blessing novel english .TXT] 📗

far, but it felt like it took me an eternity to cover. My boots kept getting stuck in the mud, the ground threatening to tear them off as I trudged forward. As the rain slicked down my neck, running down my back, I suppressed my frustration with a clenched jaw.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. It sounded like it had moved to the west, likely beyond the city of Berestal. From there it would head out toward the Wilds.

I paused at the entrance to the barn, finally sliding the massive doors open and stepping inside. Adela looked over to me from her stall , neighing softly. I made my way over to her, reaching through the bars and patting her on the side. There were times when petting Adela was my only comfort.

I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at coming out to the barn while my father wrapped yarn around his hands, and my brother sat in his room, looking out the window. At least I could get around on my own. I didn’t need the help of others to walk, like my brother, or help remembering what I’m supposed to do, like my father. “I told Mom I needed to help you,” Alison said.

I turned, smiling at her. The rain had slicked her hair backand had left her gray dress stained. She still wore her apron, and her hands were stuffed into the pockets, as if she had some secret hidden there.

She needed to get out of the house, I realized.

“That would be great. I could use a little bit of help.”

Alison joined me as we brought hay into each of the horses’ stalls. That Alison had come out to help told me just how much she struggled. I realized today must've been worse than normal.

“Has he been bad today?” I reached through and patted Tilly on her flank. She was a sturdy mare, and had once been my brother’s horse. I doubted Thenis would ever ride again. Even if he did, Tilly might be too much for him.

“No worse than any other day,” Alison said, tossing hay into another stall.

“Mom seems as if she’s struggling more than normal,” I said. I crossed my arms over my chest as I watched her. She made a point of avoiding my eyes.

“Probably,” Alison said. My sister rested with her arms on one of the stalls, her head leaning against the barn wall, looking through it as she inhaled deeply.

“How are you?”

“I am as well as I can be,” she said.

“That’s not all that convincing.”

Alison turned. Tears stained her cheeks, running down her face. She wiped at them, smearing a bit of dirt across her face. “What am I supposed to say, Ashan? That it’s tiring chasing our father around all day? Because it is. His mind is like a child, you know. But he doesn’t see himself that way. He sees himself as the man he once was, so he goes off, thinking that he can do things he can’t. Sometimes…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “When you were gone today, he got into the barn. He started to move some of the livestock. ” Alison shook her head. “I hate to think what might’ve happened had I not been there.”

“I should’ve been here,” I said softly.

“You can’t be here all the time, either. You shouldn’t have to,” she said. She turned and grabbed for more hay , her back to me.

“I didn’t need to go off and investigate anything.”

“If there’s something unusual, then you didn’t need to go off and investigate it. That’s just the thing. You are doing what you need in order to provide for us on the farm, but it’s…”

“Tiring,” I said.

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she straightened. “It’s exhausting.”

“At least Thenis doesn’t take that much effort.”

“Not that you would think, but he requires a different sort of attention. He needs for us to feed him. To bring him to the chamber pot. To bathe him. Change him if he has an accident. That happens too often these days. I don’t know if he’s getting worse, or if he has simply stopped caring.”

It bothered me that she would describe it in such terms, but even more troubling was the fact that I simply hadn’t seen that side of things. I knew my brother had been difficult, but I hadn’t realized that it had gotten to the point where my sister and my mother felt overwhelmed.

“Eventually you’re going to have your own family,” I said.

“I don’t see any way that I can do that and leave the rest of you alone.”

“I’ll take care of them,” I said.

Alison tossed the last of the hay, her hands trembling. “That shouldn’t fall on you.”

“It’s got to fall on someone. Might as well be me.” I took a deep breath. “We’ll figure out how to manage without you.”

“I don’t know if Mom can manage without me. She won’t do it now,” Alison said softly. “Maybe it’d be better to sell the farm and move to the city. Mom says there have been offers, but she won’t do it.”

“We’ll make it,” I said.

“Will we?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Alison turned away, heading out of the barn and leaving me alone again.

I stared out into the night for a moment, looking at the ever-darkening sky, and couldn’t help but feel as if Alison might be right. She deserved better, though. She deserved an opportunity to live her life. She didn’t need to suffer because of an accident that was no fault of her own.

What did I deserve, though?

3

The vast emptiness of the plains stretched in front of me, as I crouched down in front of a pawprint on the ground. The recent rains had made the ground soft and soggy. As I lingered here looking at the print, I frowned to myself. The thing was enormous.

I glanced back toward the farmhouse. It was barely visible in the distance, a trail of smoke rising up from