Chapter 7

Zachary lounged beneath the dappled shadows cast by an ancient oak, poring over the notes Verde had passed onto him. The task was daunting; unfamiliar terms peppered the pages, causing his brow to furrow in concentration. Left with no alternative, he meticulously noted these perplexing words, intending to decipher their meanings through context. This trial-and-error process slowly yielded understanding, allowing him to piece together the puzzle of the text. Despite its challenges, this method helped him make sense of the initial pages through a combination of educated guesses and determination.

Yet, this strategy was not without its flaws. While manageable in sections with a mere handful of unknown terms, deeper into the document, he encountered swathes of text rendered nearly unintelligible by the sheer volume of unfamiliar words, punctuated only occasionally by recognizable terms. This turned his reading session into an exercise in decryption:

"#%...humanity...#thus...@#gently)&(very dangerous)**&critically important￥#caution…"

"The Celestial Tome"

Overwhelmed by frustration, Zachary's head met with the trunk of the oak, breaking it as easily as one might snap a small branch. The shade that had shielded him disappeared, leaving his scales to glimmer in the sunlight.

After stowing the notes and shaking off the debris clinging to his hide, Zachary rose to his full height. It was time to deliver a meal to the human princess, Evelyn. He remembered her particular tastes, bringing not only a tender cut of meat but also a bunch of succulent, violet berries.

Evelyn delighted in the steak before sampling the berries, which tasted exceptionally sweet, possibly a side effect of her bleak situation.

The meal was satisfying, but Evelyn's desires extended beyond mere nourishment. "Mr. Dragon, the berries you've brought back are delightful. Would you like some?" she offered, extending her hand towards Zachary in a gesture of politeness.

The black dragon, situated at the cave's mouth and turned away, let out a dismissive snort, his gaze focused intently on something before him, occasionally flicking his wingtips.

Driven by curiosity, Evelyn crept closer, managing to catch a glimpse of a hardcover book before him. While the details were obscured by distance, the fine quality of the paper and the intricacy of the binding hinted at a collection of poetry.

"Are you enjoying a book of poems? It's surprising to find a dragon with such refined tastes..." she began, only to be interrupted by a sudden gust of wind that left her coughing.

Her coughing caught Zachary's attention, pulling it away from the notebook. He spread his wing, protecting her from the breeze, "What's the matter?"

"Go on," he prompted, seeing her hesitation.

Evelyn, momentarily sidetracked by Zachary's interjection, momentarily forgot her comments about the poetry. "I've run out of water. Could you ensure I have more in the future?" she inquired, her voice laced with a touch of embarrassment. "Additionally, I require daily excursions outside for... personal matters."

Zachary, who had skimmed through the notebook, wasn't taken aback by her requests. He had anticipated addressing such necessities even without her prompting.

Shutting the notebook, Zachary nudged Evelyn further into the cave, sheltering her from the draft. "Certainly," he responded.

Although Zachary consented to Evelyn's needs, devising a safe method to take her outside was challenging. His initial ignorance of human fragility had resulted in the destruction of most of her protective wards. Now, aware of her susceptibility, he recognized that even mild mountaintop winds or the turbulence of flight could jeopardize her well-being. Subjecting her to such conditions again was unthinkable.

Realizing direct transport was impractical, he pondered alternative methods. "Do you know how to weave a basket?" he asked Evelyn.

Her response was a truthful shake of the head.

Zachary let out a sigh, determined to solve the problem with his own initiative. He took to the skies, scanning the forest below until he spotted a bird meticulously constructing its nest. He watched from a discreet distance, fascinated by the bird's skillful weaving.

However, when the bird departed to gather more twigs, Zachary couldn't resist intervening. With a precise movement of his talon, he undid the bird's hard work. His curiosity was piqued by not having seen how the nest was built from the start. Upon returning, the bird was met with the sight of its dismantled home and erupted into a tirade of chirps, unable to identify the saboteur. Left with no alternative, it started over, allowing Zachary to observe the entire nest-building process.

Zachary first tried to mimic the bird's method using thicker branches to construct a large nest. Yet, he soon discovered that such a nest, despite its sturdy build, would not withstand being lifted off the ground. Reflecting on this, he deduced that the success of nest building lay in the branches' interplay. Replacing branches with flexible vines seemed like a solution, but their suppleness proved difficult to handle, particularly for Zachary's sharp talons which easily sliced through them during hasty or agitated movements.

When it was time to deliver Evelyn's meal, Zachary refilled her waterskin and, equipped with food and materials for weaving, made his way back to the cave. Realizing that neither branches nor vines were sufficient on their own, he contemplated using a combination of both.

Evelyn watched Zachary's struggle with the branches and vines while she dined. She soon identified the issue: Zachary could form the basic shape without trouble, but integrating the details was a challenge. The delicacy of the task was not suited for his sharp talons, which often broke the materials, frustrating the entire basket-making endeavor.

Frustrated, Zachary directed his irritation towards the large stone blocking the cave's entrance, pulverizing it in a matter of minutes. His brief outburst of anger helped him refocus on the task at hand.

After finishing her meal, Evelyn stepped forward to assist. She gently detached a vine from Zachary's wing tip, and he allowed her to proceed without objection. "Where should this go?" she inquired.

He guided her, pointing out where the vine should be threaded. Together, they worked harmoniously, Evelyn threading where Zachary directed, securing the structure with the vine. Their collaborative effort resulted in a completed basket.

Evelyn, unable to hide her excitement, hugged Zachary's leg in a spontaneous gesture of joy. He accepted the gesture with good grace, though he remained focused on their task.

"Just a moment," he interjected, indicating a specific area on the basket, "Could you thread the vine through here?" They needed a handle for Zachary to carry the basket easily. This final addition was challenging due to the tightness of the weave.

Evelyn attempted to create a gap for the vine, her hands turning red from the effort against the rough materials. Seeing her struggle, Zachary swiftly intervened, urging her to release her grip. Opting to dismantle the nearly finished basket, he calmly suggested, "No worries, let's start again."

Armed with the knowledge from their initial attempt, they approached the task with renewed efficiency. This time, Zachary preemptively planned for the handle. After securing the final vine, they crafted a large basket, complete with a sturdy cross handle, perfectly sized for Evelyn. Zachary tested its durability, satisfied with its sturdiness. Recalling Evelyn's weight, he added a few stones he had earlier crushed into the basket and conducted a test flight.

Evelyn, standing at the back of the cavern, watched with a racing heart as the black dragon ascended into the sky, the basket in tow, disappearing from the cave's entrance. When the sun began its descent, the dragon returned, gently placing the basket on the flat ground outside the cave. He turned to Evelyn, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "The basket holds up well. As long as I keep my speed in check, the cross-handled design keeps it steady."

"It's also quite sturdy; it could easily carry the weight of two like you," he continued, indicating its capacity. "I've added some leaf padding for comfort, but if you have a blanket or anything similar, it might be good to add another layer inside for extra cushioning."

He knew all too well the fragility of human skin and wanted to ensure Evelyn's comfort, even though the natural padding might still leave her exposed to scratches from the basket's edges or the intertwining branches and vines.

Evelyn's eyes lit up at his words. She hurried into her small alcove, returning with a large, pink blanket. The basket's edge was high, reaching up to her midsection, making it difficult for her to climb in by herself.

Noticing her hesitation, Zachary curled his claw into a step and laid it before Evelyn. She understood his gesture, sitting on his claw, which then carefully lifted her into the basket.

"Thank you," she said, her voice laced with gratitude.

Zachary offered no reply, but his silence was comfortable, familiar.

The blanket was more than sufficient, filling the basket's interior and spilling over the edges.

That night, a wave of excitement kept Evelyn from her usual swift slumber. Zachary, aware of her restlessness, sought a comfortable position that wouldn't disturb her.

Just as he found a cozy spot, a deep, resonant grumble sounded from his stomach, slicing through the quiet.

After a brief pause, Evelyn, seeking to dispel the awkward silence, mentioned, "There's still half of the steak you made left. It'd be a waste to let it go uneaten. Could you finish it?"

As Zachary loomed above her, she quickly tossed the remaining piece of steak into his awaiting mouth. The meat journeyed down to his stomach, eliciting a brief choke from him before he playfully warned her, "Sleep now, or I might decide to eat you next."

Thus, under the unlikely accompaniment of the dragon's digesting dinner, Evelyn found herself drifting into sleep, comforted by the most unusual of lullabies.