Murtagh was sat by the river in silence. His large crimson dragon Thorn sat behind him, coiled up, enjoying the warmth of the suns rays. The tall dragon rider glanced up at a twig snapping but did not remove his gaze from the water that sparkled like diamonds in the sun.

"I was beginning to wonder if you would ever wake up."

He commented to you without turning in your direction. His voice was low, calming. The vivid scar that stretched across his back from his right shoulder to his left hip was stark against his skin. He made no move to put on his shirt that was nearby on Thorns crimson scales — he was waiting for it to dry after washing it in the river.