Kaelen's Adventure The Saddle Carrier

More about Kaelen's Adventure The Saddle Carrier

The path was little more than a mark of past travelers, half-swallowed by rain, overgrown with moss. Kaelen walked slowly, the bundle on her shoulders heavier than usual. Not because it was larger, but because it was the first time without Varaan on her back. Behind her, the dragon-like mount dragged itself through the undergrowth, its right foreleg bandaged, its gait unsteady. The injury wasn't deep, but it had forced Varaan to relinquish the weight of the journey—and Kaelen to bear it. The morning before, the shadows had surprised them. Dark figures, treeless shapes with eyes of shardlight bursting from the mist like thoughts from a bad dream. Kaelen had instinctively reached for her weapon, but it was Varaan who had intervened. She remembered the growl in his chest, the dull thud of his claws, the metallic echo of his pain. And then: silence. The enemy had vanished—and Varaan remained behind, wounded, breathing, but not broken. Since then, Kaelen carried the saddle. Not just as a burden of leather and thongs, but as a symbol. For Varaan, for herself, for everything they had never said to each other. The hours passed, as thick as resin. Kaelen barely spoke. She didn't want pity to stand between them. Varaan followed her silently, only the occasional whiff of his breath reminding her that he was still there, that she wasn't alone on this path that had suddenly become so different. Around midday, they found a spot beneath an old rock from which water fell in thin drops. Kaelen lowered her pack. Her shoulders burned. She sat down, not with exhaustion, but deliberately, and looked at Varaan, who had stopped a few feet away. He barely moved, but his eyes rested on her—calm, full of warmth. She said nothing. Instead, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a crumpled cloth, soaked it in the waterfall, and slowly approached him. Varaan let her. Her fingers touched his wound with cautious certainty. He didn't flinch. In that moment, she understood how deep their connection ran. Not through words, not through duty. But through that unspoken "I am here. You too." That evening, Kaelen lit a small fire. The flames danced among the fern and the roots, casting light on Varaan's scales, which glowed silver in the darkness. He had lain down beside her, his weary limbs stretched out, his head resting against her side like a resting mountain. Kaelen leaned against him, letting the warmth flow through her back. The saddle still lay on the ground—between them, like a memory of another time. "Tomorrow you will walk again," she murmured. "But today... today I carry you." Varaan made no sound in response. But his breathing became calmer, his body heavier, and in the way he stayed with her, there was more gratitude than any words could have expressed. Night fell gently. And in her heart, Kaelen knew that the bond between them wasn't made of trails or adventures—but of the silent promise to carry each other. Even if one fell. Even if neither spoke.