I slept deep that night.
The pond gurgled gently below my cave, steam still rising from the scorched rocks. My belly was full. My wings were sore from the hunt. The new fish I'd brought in swam quietly beneath the surface.
Everything should've felt… peaceful.
But it didn't.
I woke up with a ding in my head.
Not a noise. Not a sound from the jungle.
It was inside me.
Like something tapping behind my eyes, a ripple in the silence of my thoughts. A pressure. A signal. I jerked awake, blinking rapidly, smoke puffing from my nostrils.
What was that?
I stood at the mouth of my cave, scanning the sky. The jungle was still half-dark with mist and morning light.
Then I felt it again. Not pain. Not fear.
A presence.
And she came through the trees.
Wings folded tight. Tail low. Eyes sharp as a blade.
A dragon.
Just like me.
No—not like me. The same size. Same fire behind the gaze. Same muscle, same cautious step.
I tensed.
She did too.
We stared at each other across the stone ledge.
She didn't growl. Didn't bare her teeth.
And neither did I.
The feeling in my head—the strange hum, that echo—it was gone now. Faded the moment she arrived, like it had called her here.
We circled each other slowly. I could see her scars. Faint. Faded. She wasn't new to this island.
But she was alone.
Like me.
She came closer. Lowered her head near the pond. I didn't stop her. She drank, careful, watching me from the corner of her eye.
Not a word. Not a thought spoken.
Just understanding.
Two predators. Two survivors.
And now—maybe—two of a kind.
I didn't know where she came from. Not yet. I didn't know why she was the same size as me, or why that ding in my skull brought her here.
But I didn't chase her off.
And she didn't leave.
For now, we stayed near each other, a cautious closeness forming.
When I curled up to sleep again, she was just outside the cave, curled under a tree.
Close enough to hear my breath.
Far enough to fly if I turned.
But I wouldn't.
For the first time since I'd been reborn on this brutal island…
I wasn't alone.