Willow
“Okay, Robin,” I hold up my hands in surrender. “Did I do something to you?”
The dragon, who I think is Robin, flares its nostrils, opening them wide. Heat gathers in the air, and I close my eyes, expecting him to burn me alive. Instead, he blows warm air all over my skin. It confuses me.
I open my eyes again, surprised to hear Robin grumble in dragon language before he lays down on the ground like an obedient puppy - if that puppy was the size of a literal mountain. Those dragons in Game Of Thrones? Robin is just as huge as Drogon, but he is dark blue and has four legs instead of two. He is honestly intimidating.
“Is the dragon really going to let her ride it?” someone whispers to their friend.
“I think so.”
“Where is she going to sit? There is no saddle.”
They are right. Th
