It was Thæon and Obí who hunted the deer that fed the company that night; Obí swift and strong, having caught three; one entirely for himself and two to share, not just between Thæon and his new friends, but having given one of the bucks to Gaman when he had come out to the garden on Obí’s return, as if he was replacing everything that had been given in thanks for returning Enlynn. And while the family would refuse if it was Thæon or anyone else offering, they can’t really say no to a towering vermillion dragon with blood dripping from his mouth where his fangs had pierced the deer’s neck.
There’s still caution, but not enough to make Obí recoil, instead throwing himself into the company of Thæon’s friends, watching in fascination as Stellan clears an area in the pasture with his magic, the wind sweeping away the dry grass while Dornan shows off with his precise skill in fire magic to burn away a small area for a fire that won’t spread wildly. Anaïs had given them permission, having said that her Greenseed magic would have the grass tall come the following sunset.
They slow roasted the deer as they all talked, falling into easy conversation—far easier than days past, Thæon thought, now that he has been reunited with his dragon; the communal decision to head to Angrenost not even a discussion, more a simple confirmation for everyone, who assumed as much.