I lay strapped to the bed, a needle in each of my arms and legs. My father told me I needed to think about what I had done.
What had I done? I’m not even sure.
I had been helping Ancalagon get free, trying to help him escape, and my father had come in and found me. Cal had tried to reach down to grab me, maybe to kill me, as my father says, but I think he was trying to save me.
Of course, then, he blew his fire on me. He already knew it was too hot for me. I had told him, so then, maybe my father was right, and he was trying to kill me. He should have killed me, except … except, something happened. Somehow, and I don’t know how I blocked the fire.
My father grabbed me, and I put a protective covering over us. As soon as the fire stopped raining down on us and we heard Ancalagon scream
