He doesn't move. All he does is watch me, gaze intent.
All right, then. I examine the goat leg as I pull it toward me. There's a tattered piece of skin-hide-hanging off where he ripped it from the goat's body. I swallow hard. I'm not a total priss. I've seen-and eaten-kills from the Scavenge Lands. I've watched people dress them. I've caught squirrels and taken them in to sell to the stew-makers, because eating it myself means throwing away money. I've watched them skin the things and prep them for meals. I've just … never had to skin my own meat. Never had the opportunity.
I guess now is one great big opportunity. Or something. All right. I wipe my hands and glance around, looking for something to use as a knife. There are shards of broken glass not too far away, and I move to go grab one.
The dragon's immediately there at my side, pushing in front of the doors to the stairwell. Black flares in his gaze.
"Calm down, big guy," I tell him, and dare to pat his nose. "I'm just getting some carving materials, okay? I learned my lesson. I'm not going anywhere."
At the sound of my soothing voice, the eyes flare gold again and he rubs against my hand, as if wanting me to touch him more. Yeah, we're not that close yet. I give him another perfunctory pat, and then with slow, exaggerated motions, pick up a hand-sized piece of glass. I glance over at him to see if he's going to react to the fact that I've picked up a weapon, but Kael seems calm. I consider the makeshift blade in my hand. It's extremely sharp on one edge, and I'm standing very close to Kael, his head down. I could stab one of those tire-sized eyeballs and …
And then what? Run away after wounding him? Run where? The stairwell is completely busted. Like it or not, this dragon's my only way off the building. I guess it's a good thing he wants to be friends.
He nudges the leg toward me again and then noses me.
It's like he truly just wants to take care of me. Okay, this is officially weird. They'd told me to tame the dragon, and I'd thought it was the craziest thing I'd ever heard of. Except now … I'm not so sure. Kael's not acting like the other dragons. Do dragons like humans, one on one? Is that the key? If we get close enough to one of the big, murdering brutes and get one alone, we can become buddies?
Maybe this isn't such a crackpot plan, after all. Maybe it's not certain death. I'm a big fan of uncertain death versus certain.
Using the blade of glass, I skin the goat leg as best I can. It's gross, bloody work, and I don't have anything to wipe my hands on. I'm naked, and the dress they left me with? It's around here somewhere, but I'm too dirty to put it on. I sure don't want to get goat blood on it, so I just wipe my hands on the hide as I go and hope I'm not spreading too many germs.
Eventually, it's mostly skinned and almost looks like regular meat. Almost. I straighten and admire my handiwork. Not too bad. Now if I can just convince him to cook it, it might not be a half-bad meal.
I glance up at Kael. "I don't suppose you're one of those fire-breathing dragons, are you? Or are those just the red ones?"
He watches me intently and then noses my hair.
I push his head away. "Not right now. I'm trying to concentrate." I glance back at him. "I don't suppose I could tell you to change back so we can chat?"
Nothing. Figures.
I pat the raw goat leg. "Cook this please." When that gets me nowhere, I go for charades. I gesture at my nose, then pantomime flames (or, okay, a really great sneeze) shooting out onto the goat leg. Then I point at him. "You cook it with fire. Please."
The great head tilts, and then he whuffs out a small gush of flame from his nostrils. It's so close to my head that I yelp and scurry backward, patting at my hair.
All right. That was a little alarming, but we're getting somewhere. I nod enthusiastically and gesture at the meat. "Yes! Cook!"
At my encouraging tone, he blows out a larger gush of flame, searing the leg. It crackles, and the fat sizzles on it, the smell of charring meat filling the air. The flames end as quickly as they erupted, and he looks expectantly over at me again, smoke trickling from his nostrils.
I move forward, putting a hand on his muzzle as a warning not to fry me, and check the meat. Still raw underneath the top layer. I move away again and gesture for him to 'cook' once more. He does, and after the second round, I check it again. Charred, but not bad at all. I dig my fingers into the meat and pull off a long strip, chewing thoughtfully. Juices rush into my mouth, and I close my eyes at the heavenly taste. This is the first real, fresh meat I've had in I don't know how long. It doesn't matter that it's goat. It doesn't matter that it's been dragon-broiled.