DRAKENFELL — DRAKEN FORCES TRAINING FIELD THE NEXT MORNING
The routine had been established.
Every morning, the Queen of Drakenfell would walk across the castle grounds to the juvenile dragon training field. Right on cue, Onyx would spot her from whatever corner of the field he had been pretending to participate in drills from, say "fuck this" in dragon, and rocket towards her at a velocity that made the senior handler develop a nervous tic.
Today was no different.
Onyx launched himself off a training platform mid-exercise, ignored two verbal commands from Handler Caelum, cleared a juvenile dragon who had the misfortune of being in the flight path, and landed at Bellatrix's boots with a chirp so loud it echoed off the armory walls.
Bellatrix scooped him up with one arm and settled him against her chest in the practiced cradle of a woman who had been carrying this dragon for days and whose carrying technique had achieved a competence that her actual parenting never reached.
