No preparation, just a troop of soldiers bringing orders and mayhem. Within two hours I had been assigned as keeper of a medium-sized dragon named Lindquist. Her scales ranged from deep violet to light purple, accentuating the depth of her golden eyes and the span of her impressive wings. She was young, not even two decades old. I had worked with her briefly during my time volunteering for the dragoneers.
Lindquist hated me.
Of the caravan formed, we were but one pair in the midst of fourteen other dragons and keepers. Double that amount for the soldiers accompanying us, and we were on our way. It was a journey of chains and choking dust. Harsh sunlight, oppressive heat, and steep hills made progress a torture. We wound our way through the drought plains and into the mountains, each day hoping to see the coast, and our destination.
The dragons tried to escape. Lindquist was with them and several were killed. Now she is caged, and I walk alongside, trying to comfort her while suffering my own misery.